#plis send asks

[tensecretsandakiss]

there's a severe deficit of horny anons in my ask box and I don't know how I'm expected to function without them

[becasart]

hello! could I repost your pregnant katara art on my twitter? with due credits ofc

If it's these two, then sure thing!

I don't like some of my OLDER older art 💩 i'd rather keep those hidden in a corner somewhere

[bigfemboyenergy]

felt like it

so i have my own story with my own ocs that has technically existed for prob 2 maybe 3 years now idk. and like i remembered it existed and now have a more deep concept for it in which the mc i originally selected is not the mc bc.. he held no actual plot significance when it comes to the trauma and magical aspect!, HIS BROTHER WOULD BE A BETTER MC AUDNDJSSJ so instead my brain decided to make the mc the op char!! except he learns and grows to regain his opness so hes not like. always op. its actually funny why did past me make this guy practically god /genq

anyway i want to write this so i might just..test out the villain perspective or smth bc i made an animation (yk with a template ofc i cant code/animate/etc for shit) with the main bad and good guys in it and suddenly i want to come up with a plot

Would you believe it if I told you I wasn’t always so cruel? I was a child too, once.

I didn’t choose to become what I am; my parents did. That we may have in common.

It isn’t a joke when I tell you I’m not all bad. Been tainted, but not completely absorbed into those expectations I seem to be forced to meet.

It’s an unusually cold summer day, the breeze blowing the leaves of green, healthy trees around on their branches. The sun shines, but it feels far away, distant somehow. Clouds are scattered across the sky, light filtering through them like it does through the leaves of the greenery. It may seem like a beautiful morning to some, but to others, it was less than joyful. Others..like me. (HELP HES SO CRINGE /SRS)

The birds chirping awaken me, my “eye” opening. I take it in, as if I truly could see it, and feel around, trying to see if I have something to tell me the time.

[meraale]

ARE U STILL TAKING SKETCH RECS

YEA ALWAYS!!!! im behind on them rn bc i have a lot of work to do but im still planning on getting around to them SEND WHAT U WANT ME TO DRAW PLS

[heartfullofleeches]

femboy creep reader would def have one of those dentist teddy bears... but with real teeth that they took found

Some boys like roses, some like plies of teeth and bones left at their doorstep to use for their special art projects.

-

"I've sent you flowers, meals, my credit card information, even my medical records and samples of my blood when you asked - why won't you go out with me!"

Blocked. Didn't even send a full pint like you asked. You'll never have enough blood to finish that painting tucked away in your closet at this rate. Rolling onto your side, a knock at your window weeps away the brief flicker of tranquility you felt at ridding yourself of another parasite chasing after your tail. When will they learn that sweet gestures like those just aren't enough for a boy anymore?

Crawling out of bed, you walk over to window and take a peak outside. The thick layer of glass muffles footsteps growing fainter in the distance. Unlocking the latch, you open and lean out the window in an attempt to get a better look at them - knocking over the wrapped box left on the sill in the process.

"A gift?" It's not an entirely uncommon occurrence. You're used to them being left on your doorstep, but this was new. Long as they aren't trying to break in you can't really complain. You're tempted to throw it right out, but the wrapping paper- what a gorgeous shade of red. You pick at the tape as you walk back over to your bed, intending to salvage the paper for later use. The box pops as you peel back the final piece seeming to have none taped to the cardboard itself. You look inside. A fluffy brown bear looks back. You'd like to say they were smiling, but it would be pretty hard for them to do so with that giant hole in their mouth. A note sits on its little tummy, held in place by its tiny claws. You read aloud it to yourself.

"Have fun, pretty boy~ Got more for you on the way if you're willing to keep me around.

Much Love, your secret admirer."

The box was definitely heavier than the weight of a plush bear. Lifting your new friend out of the box, another prize awaits. You run your fingers over the eggshell colored object, trailing them downwards till you reach imperfections in its smooth surface. Sockets, nostrils, teeth. You toss the bear onto the bed and pull the second object out. A pair of pliers at the bottom of the box next to a photograph builds up the excitement fluttering in your stomach. Scooping the bear up in your arms, its jaws fall slack - a second note lodged in the back of its mouth.

"Call me. ;)"

You snuggle the bear to your chest- retrieving your phone from the nightstand.

"This is more like it. Don't worry, little guy. I'll give you all your teeth back- then we'll send whoever sent you a nice thank you message."

[ozzgin]

Hi hello Ozz the Great hope your having a swell day. Just wanna let you know your OCs, drawings and stories are absolute fantabulously amazing. I usually never had any form of attachments to OCs in general but yours had me in a tight grip ☝️😔 I still vividly remember waking up sweaty and all after I had a dream about being crushed by Suma. Plis send my regards to Suma and give him a lil kiss on the cheek for me.

Hugs and kisses,

Microbial anon 🦠💝

I'm very glad the characters are to your liking, anon! 💕 I was wondering under what context I could draw your fever dream, and as you know my mind mostly works in comedic anime scenes, so…

Suma: Oh? Are you challenging us? I haven’t had my warmup today, what do you say we teach them a lesson, (Y/N)? Suma: ...(Y/N)? You: Can’t…breathe… Suma: Oh! Sorry, I got all heated up. Are you okay? Your face is kind of purple…I hope I didn’t crush your throat. Maybe ask Sakaki to have a look. Sorry. My bad.

[More yokai harem] | [Character Guide]

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Hi heart I would love an order of Paul aron with the song Renegade Aaryan Shah smut plis 😻

Paul Aron x Fem!Reader

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

As the opening bars of Renegade thumped through the speakers, I felt the bass vibrate through my body. I was at the club, my body moving to the music, the lights flashing, and the alcohol coursing through my veins. I spotted him across the crowded dance floor; his blond hair shining under the strobing lights, those intense blue eyes fixed on me. His name was Paul, a Formula 2 driver, and he oozed confidence and sex appeal. I felt my pussy clench as our eyes locked, a jolt of electricity coursing through me. 

The music took over, and I let my body move with the beat, my hips swaying, my hands running through my hair. I could feel his eyes on me, burning with desire, and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. The lyrics thumped out, "I'm a renegade, built this kingdom up from ash and clay," and I imagined Paul and me, building our own kingdom of pleasure, our own world of taboo desires and erotic adventures. 

As the song reached its climax, I felt a hand on my waist, and then his lips were on my neck, his breath hot against my skin. Paul whispered, his voice deep and husky, "Let's get out of here." I didn't need to be asked twice; my body was on fire, and I needed release. We pushed our way through the heaving crowd, hands brushing, lips almost touching, the anticipation driving me wild. 

We fell into the back seat of his car, our lips finally crashing together, tongues dueling, hands exploring. I felt his hard dick pressed against my thigh, and I moaned into his mouth, grinding my hips against him. Paul broke the kiss, looking at me with fiery desire. "I've wanted you all night," he growled, his hands squeezing my thighs. "You're so fucking sexy." I smiled, biting my lip, my hands reaching for his belt. "Then what are you waiting for?" I teased. "Take me." 

With urgency, he pulled me onto his lap, my legs straddling his waist, his hands grasping my ass. I could feel his dick, hard and throbbing, and I lowered myself onto him, moaning as he filled me. Paul's hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements as I rode him, my tits bouncing, my hair falling around my face. I leaned back, giving him a view of my body, my hands reaching behind to squeeze my ass as I rode him harder. "Fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his eyes fixed on my breasts. "Keep riding that dick, baby." 

I sped up, my pussy clenching around him, the car rocking with our movements. I felt so full, so alive, and I knew I was going to cum hard. As if reading my mind, Paul reached between us, his thumb finding my clit, rubbing it in circles as I bucked my hips. "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice hoarse. "Let me feel that tight pussy squeeze me." And I did. I cried out, my body shaking, my pussy pulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. Paul groaned, his dick twitching inside me, and I felt his hot cum filling me up, our juices mixing together. 

We kissed, breathless, our hearts pounding. I sat back on his lap, his dick still inside me, feeling deliciously full. "That was just the start," he whispered, his hands stroking my thighs. "Now, I want to taste you." With that, he lifted me off his lap and laid me back on the seat, spreading my legs wide. I felt the cool night air on my hot skin as he lowered his head between my thighs, his tongue flicking my clit, sending shocks of pleasure through me. He ate me out like a starving man, his tongue and lips working me over, his hands gripping my thighs tightly. 

I moaned, my hands tangling in his blond hair, guiding his mouth to my sensitive spots. "Mmm, you taste so fucking sweet," he murmured, his breath hot against my soaked pussy. I cried out as he sucked my clit, his fingers entering me, curling inside to hit that magic spot. I bucked my hips, my body tensing, and I came hard, my juices flooding his mouth. Paul moaned in appreciation, lapping up my cum, his fingers never stopping their delicious assault. 

After I came down from my high, Paul kissed his way up my body, his lips marking my skin, his hands caressing my breasts. I felt his hardness against my thigh again, and I smiled, knowing he wasn't done with me yet. He positioned himself at my entrance, teasing me with the tip of his dick. "I want to fuck you doggy style," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "I want to watch that perfect ass as I take you from behind." I shivered with anticipation, getting on all fours and presenting myself to him. 

Paul entered me slowly, filling me up, his hands grasping my hips. "You like that, baby?" he asked, his voice low and sexy. "You like my cock deep inside you?" I nodded, biting my lip, feeling his length stretch me deliciously. "Fuck yes," I moaned. "Now, pound that pussy. Make me yours." With that, he began to thrust, his hips slamming into me, his balls slapping against my clit with each deep stroke. "Damn, your pussy feels incredible," he grunted, his hands squeezing my ass cheeks. "It grips my cock like a fucking vice." 

We found a rhythm, our bodies moving together, the car rocking with the force of our passion. I cried out with each thrust, feeling his thickness stretching me, his balls slapping my sensitive clit. "Cum for me again," he demanded. "I want to feel you explode around my cock." And I did, screaming his name, my body shaking, my pussy pulsing as I rode wave after wave of bliss. Paul grunted, his fingers digging into my soft flesh, and I felt him explode inside me, his hot cum shooting deep. 

We collapsed in a sweaty, satisfied heap, our hearts racing, our breath coming in ragged gasps. I felt Paul's cum leaking from my well-fucked pussy, and I smiled, knowing we'd created our own kingdom of pleasure, our own renegade world of uninhibited sex and passion. "That was incredible," I whispered, turning to face him, our foreheads touching. "I can't wait for the next adventure." 

As the song says, "We be riding 'til the sun up," and I knew that Paul and I would ride this night out, exploring each other's bodies and pushing the limits of our sexual desires. It was just the beginning of our erotic odyssey.

[afreakingdork]

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 7

RotTMNT x Reader

It's like there's metaphor in this week's chapter art by @matchstique

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis:  You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

“I have an announcement!” Mikey projected. “We are not dating!” 

The rest of the lair stared on with various shades of confusion and crestfallen faces while you tried your best to melt behind your friend.

It would have probably gone better if he hadn’t been so stubborn about holding your hand.

You might have also been able to help if he had given you even the tiniest bit of notice that this was how he was going to inform his family.

Instead, after your rooftop reaffirmation and the strangest deal of your life, you’d spent a few days apart where things returned to a sort of norm. Back and forth text conversations appeared in your phone again and you chatted sparingly throughout the day. It led to a Wednesday where he asked if you wanted to come over and hang out on Friday. Not easily agreeing after the last time you saw his family, you had asked him if he’d cleared everything up with them. He’d texted back that they were fine and seeing your new dynamic could help with that. You’d quickly messaged back that your dynamic was supposed to be the same to which he promptly sent you with an ‘exactly!’

For Mikey, the return to normalcy was the start of something new, but his family had perceived your talk to be one of loss. Not that you were trying to read into his text, but the way he wrote it gave the impression that he was sticking it to them. You imagined that based on that, the conversation had probably gone as well with them as it had with you. He was hell-bent on indulging his crush and there was nothing the brothers he was raised with from infancy could do to stop him. Relenting only enough to sound your worries about it being awkward, Mikey then plied you with a million reasons on why it would be comfortable which after about the fifth thing devolved into his sending pictures of random places in the lair.

Mikey: See, the bean bag is a comfy place, no uncomfy here.

Mikey: Microwave open and ready to get you comfy popcorn.

Mikey: Bathroom toilet, moderately clean and ready to serve all your comfort needs.

You’d had to text him several stop messages as if you were putting a halt to an automated system. He completed your request with a laughing selfie before you both worked out what time. The next two days passed in a similar fashion and the day of, you approached your preferred entrance. The manhole cover there was open and a sort of inviting as it led to a line that joined with the abandoned subway. Peering down the pit found Mikey smiling up at you from below. Returning the gesture as you descended, he stepped away as you hit the ground beside him and jokingly said he would be your escort. Happy for it because while you knew the way, it didn’t help how eerie the empty tunnels were, he caught your hand and belted into a full tilt run.

Scrambling after him and crying out his name in a whirling echo, you took all the turns and tripped nearly every few seconds. Mikey yanked your arm off to somehow keep you upright and, within what seemed like a rollercoaster amount of time, you were thrust into the fairy lights that designated the lair. It was a rushed trip up some stairs to the common room where, with you panting, sweaty, and still gripped tightly in the youngest brother’s grasp, Mikey had sung his announcement.

Much to your horror.

And everyone else’s stares.

You weren’t sure which was worse.

“Uh… I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just gonna say it. You musta added a word by accident, bud…” Raph offered with his hand.

“Nope!” Mikey retorted with closed eyes.

They didn’t know.

You could see it on all their faces.

He hadn’t talked to them.

At least not in a way that made sense to reality. 

“Yeah, that does not say ‘we’re single.’” Leo pointed at your conjoined hands.

Where you were already straining the connection, you gave a tug which Mikey continued to refuse.

Why was he doing this?

He’d lied.

To your face.

Well, to your phone’s face.

There was no way he could have misconstrued your question.

Where had this all gone so wrong?

“I said what I said.” Mikey huffed.

Splinter clicked his tongue, loud and wet. “Why waste my time!? Still no grandkids! Wake me when you finally marry!”

Turning to you and somehow not seeing the horrors there, Mikey pretended to speak a secret out of the side of his mouth. “The ace thing kinda fell in line with no kids for me, but I am not going to try to explain that to him. No way.”

Splinter had already went slack as if to sleep in his armchair, but the other boys were painted new shades of shock.

As if using a color scale, surprise glossed down the brothers in a degradation. From Leo who seemed openly gobsmacked, then came Raph with a slightly furrowed brow and parted lips that said he knew what the term was, but had never considered. It then reached Donnie where the purple brother’s eyes flicked side to side as if scanning some mental file. Finally reaching April, who without an obvious reaction, instead came a soft encouraging expression to Mikey.

“That right?” Leo muttered, taking a step forward with a half-hopeful smile on his face.

“Yeah, I don’t really get why the ‘not’ part was hard.” Mikey released you so he could gesture with both his hands as if he picked up the word and placed it for examination.

You backpedaled several fearful steps away watching the entire unraveling with dismay.

Clutching what felt like a defiled hand to your chest, you wished to fall into some pit hole you assumed the subway or adjoining sewer had.

Something specifically straight to the center of the Earth where you’d burn up in the core.

Not only had he not discussed whatever the hell the two of you had going on, but he’d somehow neglected to share his newfound romantic and sexual labels.

You were now party to their reveal.

Something you explicitly asked not to be.

Not that you didn’t support him.

This was a family affair and you were new blood.

You had no stake in this.

No say.

Why were you here?

“Obviously the new thing!” Leo griped, coming over.

You tried to step a little more away until one of your feet caught the other and you tumbled.

The others tried to move, but there wasn’t enough time as you hit the ground.

Staring up at the group all in states of hovering, it hit you that you had a large audience for your fall.

Welling up a fountain of tears, you dropped your head and said you needed a drink.

The poorest excuse, you scurried off to the kitchen where you heard Leo grab Mikey in a yelp.

“Nuh uh! Y/N is scared out of their mind! Give them a minute!! What is up with you?”

“Scared?” Mikey’s eyes went a horrified wide. “What? Y/N?” He tried to run again, but Leo still had him.

“Dude, quit! I am not above having Raph sit on you!”

“I can think of something better.” Raph appeared in his hulking form.

“Hell yeah! Finally!” April crooned and, before Mikey could blink, the light was blotted out.

Making sense in little slivers of fluorescence, he realized the others had all locked arms into a huddle with him trapped in the center of it. “No!” He screamed, feeling reduced to his childhood where they had done this when the youngest got away with a little too much. “I am way too old for tot jail!”

“I always wanted in on this! Score!” April whooped, bouncing on the arm tethers of both Donnie and Raph. 

“Just… slightly… before your… time…” Donnie wheezed where she’d struck him just right to knock the air out.

“Alright, jail bird, let’s hear it. Sing, ya canary!” Leo ordered, narrowing his gaze down at his brother.

“I’m not going over this again!” Mikey groaned, feeling especially small.

Leo threw his head back for an exasperated groan before he came down with irritation. “CLOSE IT UP!”

Every party took a single step inward which adjusted the size of the cage.

“No!!!” Mikey cried out.

“They want to know about the ace thing, Mikey.” April offered, losing steam at the sight of the youngest’s fear.

It took Mikey a few traumatizing moments to put together what she meant before he looked up with renewed anger. “Why didn’t you just say that?!”

The whole group groaned and overlapped with complaints.

Mikey laughed nervously and had to put quite a bit of effort into not bringing his arms up as a shield. “What… did you want to know?”

“When did you figure that out?” With a nod, Leo signaled the others and the cage disengaged.

Mikey fell over with relief. Laying on his side for a second, his lids lowered. “Kinda had a night long epiphany … uh… 3 nights.. or days? Maybe it was a week or something ago…?”

“You explicitly said you didn’t tell him.” Donnie looked at April.

“I didn’t. I shared my bit, showed him the Wiki, and offered advice on the spectrum.” She was quick to respond.

Raph appeared beside Mikey just as the younger was righting himself. With a large hand clasped onto his shoulder, Mikey was trapped by Raph’s toothy grin. “We’re here for you, big man. Support all the way.”

“Thanks, Raph.” Mikey put his hand over his brother’s and shared a smile before looking to the other three. “You all knew.”

Leo looked the most guilty and rubbed the back of his neck. “From the way you talked that night… It made sense, then… shit…”

“Then Leo and I talked about it right after, with April.” Donnie gave his culpability.

“We weren’t trying to talk behind your back.” April offered. “I started by filling Donnie in, then Leo came by and… it was a whole thing.”

“I wasn’t a part of it.” Raph raised his hands up with his innocence.

“No, I only had to explain to you the different types of attractions.” Leo rubbed a hand down his face. “Look, we’re sorry…”

“I’m not mad.” Mikey glanced around openly. “In fact, I’ve just kinda been sitting here. You guys are worried over nothing.”

Leo gave a dead eyed stare before shaking it off. “Did you want to talk about being ace? You hear that? I specified! No mixing it up anymore, got it? I know when I came out it was a whole thing.”

“Aroace.” Mikey corrected with a small smile.

“Oh?” Leo plopped down beside his brother. “You went all the way. Great job.” Leo held up a fist bump.

MIkey took it. “Still feeling broken, but not as much.”

“You aren’t.” Leo blew the exchange up.

“You really aren’t.” Donnie chimed in.

April did a few little hops in place before she leapt forward to hug Mikey.

He caught her with a gleaming smile.

“I’m so proud!” She gushed. “Oh and one more thing!” She caught his face and yanked so she could send menace straight into his eyes. “It’s fluid your whole damn life so one label isn’t the be all and end all, your feelings could change, understand?!”

“Y-yes…” Mikey choked under the squeeze. “That’s the thing I don’t really like about labels…” 

“Good.” April released and flopped down between Mikey and Raph.

Donnie gave a dramatic gasp before kneeling down. “I guess we’re all sitting on the floor now.”

Mikey chuckled. “So I’m good, are you all good?”

“No, what the heck is up with that other thing?” Leo leaned forward, zeroing in on his younger brother. “Oh, sorry! Was I not specific enough!?”

“You already ‘weren’t’ dating.”  Raph did the same boxing of the word as Mikey had.

“Ugh!” Mikey rocked back onto his shell. “Our friendship was up in the air! Duh! I jeopardized that and then I fixed it.”

“Fixed it how?” Donnie was the next to give a suspicious gaze.

“We talked it out.”

April folded her arms.

“The judgment in this space!” Mikey soured.

“You’re doing textbook Leo avoidance tactics. I would know.” Leo scoffed with his whole head.

“Because if you don’t get this then you aren’t going to get what it really is!” Mikey exclaimed and then clamped a hand over his mouth. “Please forget.”

“Not happening.”

“Not on your life.”

“You dun messed up!”

“Mikey, what happened?!”

As if dispelling all the little speech bubbles, Mikey flung his hands and waved them in the air. When everyone was thoroughly quiet, he threw a little stink eye to each party before slumping into himself to explain. “This is all new. It’s either a squish-“

Raph held up a finger.

“-ace crush.” Mikey shot him a finger gun and a wink.

Raph turned the hand into a thumbs up.

“Or something else and I need to find out what. You guys… don’t have the best track record in believing in me or letting me figure stuff out on my own.” Mikey rubbed his arm.

That didn’t feel great.

He also had to say it.

He really, really wanted them to let him have this.

He’d already fought enough to convince you.

He wanted his family to be on his side for once instead of trying to protect him. 

Bringing his attention up, he caught a clip of the many conversations being had with glances.

The only one not participating was April who was staring right at him. Caught by the look, he watched the moment her lips parted. “What does that mean, Mikey?”

The journalist’s inquisition.

He had mad respect for that. “Like I said, we aren’t dating, but I’m going to feel this out…” 

While April had a nose for a story, Leo had one for bullshit. “Mikey…” He warned.

Mikey crumbled. He was always like this when caught. It didn’t bother him, but he wished the others would let him off the hook once in a while. “I wanna experience the whole crush thing. I asked Y/N if I could do that. Go through all the motions. Well, keep doing it. Keep liking them. I want to see what it feels like. I want to know all the highs... and lows… so…”

“But you aren’t dating?” Leo pressed. 

“No.” Mikey said firmly as he felt he’d repeated himself on that front enough. “Y/N doesn’t feel the same.” 

“If they don’t…?” Raph came alive with distilled concern. “Lows!? But that means you’ll be dumped?! Wait! You want to know…? You want to be dumped?!” 

“No! Well-!” Mikey hiccupped on the lie, again wasting away under it. “Kinda… sorta…. Not like exactly but…”

“Mikey! What? Why!?” Raph continued on. “That’s like saying you’re gonna learn how to drive a bus and then settin’ the thing on fire! What are ya thinkin’!?”

“I’m not trying to be sad on purpose!” Mikey pleaded with his older brother. “But I want this! For me! I finally have a chance to experience this! I might not again! I want to see this through! I want to feel normal! I want to see what it’s like to-“

April had her hand on his arm.

He looked down at it and then up to her.

“You’re gonna hate this-” She started.

“I am normal, yeah I know-!” Mikey’s face fell.

She flicked him right in the forehead and he squeaked out in pain.

“Why!?”

“I wasn’t done, fool!” She stared him down and he clamped his mouth shut so she would continue. “It’s not going to be normal, because no one is normal. There’s no right way to care about someone. Look at us.”

“You’ve never given me grief for my emotional shortcomings.” Donnie shrugged.

“Or like… this... just everything here, ALL OF THIS!” Leo got progressively louder and more agitated as he swept a hand over himself over and over. “Man, I hate crushes!”

“They make Leo insane.” Raph agreed.

“And you a walking Godzilla.” April stared with amusement.

“Maybe I should just laugh at volume a million at unfunny jokes.” Raph turned his head away.

“You did not just make fun of me!” April pushed her sleeve up.

“Stop!” Mikey threw his arms out.

The others all resigned to dropping their respective qualms.

“Normal may have been the wrong word, but it works. That’s exactly why I want to do this. How will I react? You all have things! Leo’s crazy! Raph’s powers go wild! April cackles! You know them! I want to see. I want to feel! I want to know where this goes and I’m not going to ask if that’s okay. I’m doing it. This is my choice. I didn’t tell you before, but I’m telling you now. You’re my family and I love you, but this is happening.”

There was a pregnant pause before April dispelled it. “Well damn, how can we say no to that!?” She then tossed an arm over MIkey’s shoulders. “Fine, I’ll let you, but if Y/N messes with you then I’m getting my bat.”

“And I will do my best to stop that.” Leo came next, slinking his arm around Mikey’s carapace. “Doubt it’ll come to that though. I’ve gotten a pretty good read on Y/N and I somehow think you’ll end up breaking their heart.”

“I’ve just emailed you the background check.” Donnie dotted off tapping into a holographic screen. “I did it during my whole ‘they’re definitely totally a villain’ phase, but there’s been no update. I do enjoy the thought of a good shovel talk though…”

“I’ll take that.” Raph pretended as if he was picking up the thought when he instead grabbed the whole of Donnie and pulled him into the group hug. “It’s the eldest’s duty. You can’t take that away from me. It’s Raph’s birthright.”

Tears welled up in Mikey’s eyes. “Guys! This is all I wanted!”

A good squeeze and a few more for extra measure and everyone dispersed.

“Maybe this is more important than I thought.” Splinter huffed into the calm.

“Listening in?” Mikey brushed his legs off as he stood. “Think you can keep an open mind, dad?”  

Splinter thought it over for a little too long and April gave him a threatening stare. He returned with a little nervous whine before heaving a large sigh. “Fine, fine. Explain to me the many fake words you came up with.”

“First of all.” Mikey approached, with an outstretched finger. “They’re not fake, that’s lesson one!”

“Doctor Sexuality is in the house?” Leo whooped.

“Absolutely not.” Donnie smacked the back of his head.

“Ew, gross!” Mikey screamed before continuing on his explanation with April lobbying at his side.

Donnie reviewed the trio once before looking toward where Leo had started up an argument about shovel logistics with Raph. A debate went on simply for the sake of it and Donnie gave Mikey’s distracted form one last glance before heading towards a staircase. Descending his calculated two at a time, he hit the landing and found you immediately.

You weren’t very good at hiding, he thought. 

You only stood by the fridge, with your back to a counter, and had your face buried into your hands.

Weighing his steps so they would make a gentle sound, he padded past you to grab a glass from a nearby cabinet.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you rise, not startled, and peer at him between fingers.

He patted himself on the back for avoiding scaring you and didn’t bother to indulge your worries.

Instead, he went to the fridge and got the pitcher from there, where the opened door gave you privacy. “Want a drink?”

He’d gotten this for you, but he could easily sip on it himself if you said no.

“Um… sure…” You mumbled.

You didn’t sound confident, but he poured a glass of water, metering the top so it wouldn’t spill.

People always forgot to give it that line of berth.

Replacing the jug, Donnie slipped his hand on top of the fridge door and counted out several seconds before closing it. It was another sign for you and once his threshold seven had been met, he let the door go and straightened with the glass in hand.

It sloshed lightly but was nowhere near spilling.

Another mental score for him and held the drink out to you.

You were slow to take it. “Did… they send you to… kick me out?”

He found you outlandish. 

You spoke like Mikey, in a way. You always piped up with something honest, albeit ridiculous. The only difference was, where he’d long learned to give up on Mikey’s train of thought because it always took tracks he never quite understood, you, however, wove an obvious and nervous path. He couldn’t understand why you bothered with such absurdities if that was the case. It was as if you were compelled to take anxiety and make it tangible by giving it voice.

“No, though I do relish the thought.”

You blinked up at him with horror.

He supposed he should have pulled that punch. 

It was too soon after his cruelty. 

He needed a metered approach. 

Cue light-hearted dialog. 

He gave one tenth of a smile and leaned against the fridge. “Not you, to clarify. Of throwing someone out. I have a whole system in place for it, boot and all, but I’ve never been allowed to use it.”

“O-oh…” Your brow furrowed and you took the daintiest sip. “A real boot…?”

“Leather and steel toed.” He nodded, appreciative of his own work.

“For an intruder that’s probably bad…”

“For family though…” Donnie led you a little.

“Might be funny…? Does it…?” You gave a little kick. “… right in the butt?”

“Absolutely.” Donnie’s grin grew another tenth as your little mimed action was an endearing one.

You smiled a little more and looked at him with a bit more courage. “How… did everything go? Since… I’m not being kicked out.”

Donnie rolled his eyes. “Once again we continue the Hamato track record of not being great at telling each other things. Thankfully, with Mikey, it’s almost never a huge deal. He’s currently telling pa-pa about his new found sexuality.”

You gave a faint nod.

“He…” Donnie slowed, wondering if this was his to share or not. Finding himself an unwilling party, he figured that gave him enough grounds. “…also told us about your little tryst?”

You made a distasteful face. “Don’t call it that…”

“What would you call it?”

“Friendship…?” You tried and then pursed your lips.

“Queen platonic?” He offered.

“I don’t know.” You turned to him openly.

He liked that best.

“I was ready to be thrown out onto the street. I feel like I’m Icarus…” You tapped your glass and leaned up to stare at the fake sun in the form of overhead kitchen light. “My wings will melt and I’ll crash land back on Earth with nothing.”

“Not tonight unfortunately.” Donnie felt the tug and looked where you did. 

There wasn’t much there that he didn’t already know about.

Metaphorically it held greater importance. 

“You’re being a good host.”

“I’m always a good host.” Instead of moving his head, he shifted his pupil to glimpse you.

“I haven’t…” You swayed, obviously nervous over the rest of your sentence. “... gotten to see much of your good side.”

He gave a single puff of amusement. “True. Even now I’m here under nefarious purpose.”

“Oh?” You took another sip.

You weren’t afraid now. 

The dialog was successful. 

“I dislike visitors walking around unaccompanied.”

He would leave out the part about how he usually used cameras to track company instead.

It wasn’t an explanation he cared to give for the time being.

“Ah.” You sound like you understood which pulled his head. “The evil chaperon.”

“Did you just typecast me?” He could feel his interest pique. 

“I saw it in your eyes.” You had a twinkle to yours. “When we got here you were thinking that we were violating school code. Holding hands is strictly forbidden.”

Donnie gave a genuine laugh.

What an image. 

He could almost see himself as a professor down the road wearing tweed. “You have jokes. I’ll have you know you’re up against a master.”

“Is that so?” You leaned into him while looking him over as if something about his outfit would scream hilarity.

“Get into my good graces and I’ll let you in on my comedy.”

“Slapstick.” You pointed a finger from around the glass.

He arched an interested brow at your reasoning.

You did your cute kick motion again and then brought your gaze right to his. “Seems obvious.”

Putting his fist to his mouth as you’d elicited one too many laughs in a row, he chuffed. “Wrong. I consider it a challenge now to show you my highbrow brand.”

You went to raise your hands on instinct and lost grip on your glass.

In a swoop, Donnie brushed your fingers while plucking the thing from you.

You gave him a thankful bob before bringing up your hands for the comedy police to see. “I take it back! I have no idea what I’m dealing with!”

“Wise choice.” He offered you your glass.

You gave a tenth of a bow as you took it.

His grin wasn’t so easily chartable at this point.

What an odd showing.

Drinking a little more, you seemed to think of something. “What kind of movies do you like?”

Donnie had to think for a moment before realizing where you’d gotten the insinuation from. “Typecast…” 

He hadn’t meant to say that bit aloud.

It didn’t seem to bother you. 

“Yep.” Your smile was so resilient. “Do you watch a lot of teen movies?”

“I’ve seen a few, but we grew up on a diet of martial arts flicks and sci-fi tales.”

“Jupiter Jim and Lou Jitsu!” You announced proudly.

“Did you know that or were you told?” Donnie tipped a knowing eye. 

Your lashes fluttered with guilt. 

“I’m sure you know far more about us than I would be comfortable telling you as of yet.” Donnie leaned back, satisfied.

“Mikey really loves you all. He always talks about you. He never has a bad thing to say.”

“That is mutual…” Donnie began and gave a flick of his gaze as he thought over the end of the sentence. “To an extent.”

“Very brotherly of you.”

“Raph will be giving you the shovel talk.”

“Shovel what…?” Your glass lowered a little.

“A conversational trope. The shovel will be used to hide your body if you hurt Mikey. It’s a common threat from a protective family to a new suitor.”

You paled. “I wouldn’t-!”

The way you cut yourself off gave him pause.

He stared at you and watched a sheen glisten over your eyes.

It made him all the more uncomfortable until he felt forced to break the moment just before the tears breached. “Y/N.”

“I don’t want to!” You forced out and in doing so screwed your eyes shut to keep anything from falling.

Unfortunately, keeping one liquid up, threatened another as you forgot about your glass and it tipped dangerously forward.

Donnie shot forward to cup the bottom of it, along with your hand, to keep it from spilling.

The graze got your attention and you brought up watery doe eyes to him.

“That’s… where all this is heading. I don’t want to… I’m also too… I’m too weak to let go like I should… To put my foot down…” You shook your head.

“He never discussed how you agreed to the matter. He’s not forcing you is he?” Donnie asked, quiet.

“No, no… of course not, but it’s kind of a technicality…” You only then seemed to notice his hand supporting yours and moved to set the glass on the counter.

He felt a strange temperature differential in his palm.

“I need something from him and he needs something from me… It made sense to agree at the time, but…”

“You don’t like it.”

“I really don’t… What…?” You turned up to him with a pleading expression. “What... do you think?” As if remembering your nerves your eyes doubled in size before you begged him. “I-I understand if you don’t want to tell me! Private family business and-!“

He really wanted to put a hand over your face.

Smother that worry.

You were so flighty, but that was only your outer layer.

You kept reverting to it stubbornly and Donnie could not figure out why.

“I think he doesn’t know what he’s in for.” He went with the obvious. 

You quieted as he spoke right through you.

Your expression also said you were thankful for it.

He would keep that in mind.

“We’ve all been there, crushed by a crush. Myself, a few times. It’s less than ideal.”

“It sucks.” You added with a side glance that said you knew your fair share.

He didn’t like that either.

That was strange.

Shaking himself off physically, he sighed. “As we’ve learned with Mikey though… No…” Donnie grimaced. “As Hamato’s-“ He corrected with a sneer. “-we don’t learn unless we do it the hard way. From experience! We can step in and badger each other all we want. Chain each other down if it gets really bad, but in the end, that’s how it goes. He will learn by doing. He won’t be dissuaded when he wants something.”

You nodded, seemingly assured by your time with Mikey.

Now that he could appreciate.

You were aware of somethings, even if they weren’t your own.

“We’ll run damage control if necessary. Do keep me posted.”

“I will.” You looked a little relieved.

“Y/N!!” Mikey burst into the room and swept right past Donnie as if he wasn't there.

You squeaked at his sudden appearance and he swept you up for a quick examination as if you’d been abducted.

In his rush, the younger had knocked the water glass over and Donnie watched dully as water spread over the counter and then dripped onto the floor.

Mikey was too loud and garnered too much of your attention for either of you to notice.

Sighing, Donnie went to go get a towel while Mikey went on and on about how he felt bad for leaving you before switching to tease you about falling into the purple beast’s hands.

Turning with a towel in hand, Donnie curled his fingers and gave the dullest roar to play such a part.

You giggled.

Saying something about a comfort movie, Mikey then dragged you out. 

You threw one last weakened glance over your shoulder. Tossing the towel over the spill and watching it soak, Donnie wondered if the film was one he’d seen before.

💛 NEXT 💛

I can always count on my bestest betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[kitkatscabinet]

I NEED more of the aegon x older sister AU!

Like what if Otto tried to send reader on a betrothal tour like Rhaenyra did? Or what if at a Tourney another knight asked for readers favor? Otto would be doing everything he possibly can to contain Aegon lol

Would Aegon still become the type of person he was in the show/books? Or would he try and become the best version of himself to impress reader?

What if, to try and separate Aegon and reader, Viserys sent reader to live with Daemon in Essos? Or sent to ward somewhere else? I bet once Aemond had Vhagar Otto would try to use him to keep Aegon from flying to reader.

This somehow took a wholesome turn???

The beautiful unwed Targaryen princess??? you best believe noblemen and knights alike are lining up and down the block just to get a glimpse. Yours is always the first favour to be asked for. I'd imagine there would be people willing to move down in the lists for the opportunity to get to you first.

Aegon goes fucking feral every single time and it's getting harder and harder to keep him on a leash. He is practically sitting on top of you at this point. No matter how hard Otto or Viserys try Aegon will never accept any seat other than the one next to yours. Fingers entwined with yours, head resting on your shoulder- breathing in the oils you'd been bathed in.

He has no shame, the moment you sit back down after offering a favour or even speaking to another man he's either pulling you back down into his lap, or leaning in to place kisses against your face, neck, hands anything he can reach. All the while glaring murder at whoever had the audacity to even look at you.

Gods forbid Otto ships you off to be a ward somewhere or even worse on a tour like Rhaenyra's. He's been plied up with wine so he doesn't notice your departure until you have long since been shipped off.

It's a miracle that King's Landing doesn't burn that day.

Aegon's screams echo through the keep and anything that he can get his hands on is destroyed. rip Otto's belongings.

In the dragon pit Sunfyre is having his own fit. He eats three people and burns a lot more and for once your dragon isn't interested in stopping him.

The second he figures out where you are he is making a break for the dragon pit and it takes a surprising amount of the King's guard to prevent it. He has to be locked in his own chambers which amounts to days of screaming and a completely trashed room.

Luckily Aemond is all too happy to offer his assistance. He’s grown up seeing how you are with Aegon and even to a lesser extent him and Helaena and he thinks it normal. So he’s also quite upset big sis got sent away.

The arrival of Vhagar at whatever poor Lord's keep you've found yourself in is enough to deter many of the more cowardly lords. Aemond is also smart enough to play up his time with you and is content to sit in your lap like a baby instead of the 13-year-old he is.

Being the dutiful princess you are, you finish the tour. Though it quickly becomes more of a strained formality as Aemond has become your personal glaring necklace and Vhagar looms threateningly.

As for the kind of person Aegon is. You would never allow your beloved baby brother to fall into the pit he has in the show. You keep him away from wine and ale, he is not even allowed to drink a few glasses until he is past 16.

He has no desire to indulge in whores, that just means more time spent away from you after all. But I do imagine him getting frustrated/wanting to know how to bets please you and as such will pay a few visits to the streets of silk. He'll never finish inside any of them though. You are the only person that will ever bear his children.

With your constant stream of adoration and reassurance he is nowhere near as bad mentally as he is in the books/show.

You are just as scary as Aegon and the first time you catch Alicent yelling or laying hands on him he is still young and after you threaten grievous harm to her person she will never do such again.

You also aren't above whispering into your father's ears. Turning him and your younger siblings against Alicent and Otto. It takes you a while but you get Otto sacked and by some miracle you get Corlys to replace him.

Your close relationship with your younger siblings has given Rhaenyra a lot of forced exposure to them too. And though she is concerned about Aegon's possessiveness she understands how he feels.

She comes to adore Helaena and Jace being the sweet boy he is does too. so that's two pairs of children enamoured with each other and I think this is when Alicent starts to break free from Otto's brainwashing.

Everyone always hcs Aemond and Daemon as becoming close in these kinds of aus but I'm gonna say it. Aemond and Rhaenyra are a top tier pair. He loves his mother, but her love has still always been somewhat conditional and now he has this mother figure that simply loves him for being him and he can't get enough of it.

Rhaenyra and Alicent reconnect thanks to your machinations and now Aemond's like sweet, two mums!

But now there's just this whole clan of overly freakish possessive Targaryen's that you have accidentally allowed to reign free. Daemon comes back and is pissed, this is kind of all he's ever wanted and his family has just done it without him???

don't usually tag on these kinds of posts but cause this is so long:

@etherily @psychwardsiren @mihrimahsultan03 @bbyaemond @krispold @hyperfixated-freak @eudximoniakr @deadstarkblacksoul @thelittleswanao3

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Other Half Part Six

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Notes: This is going to feed into an ask that was sent to me. Just needed to build that bridge, ya know.

Warnings: Some fluff; mostly angst. Soz. Whoops. Not beta-read.

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Minors interacting with this work will be blocked.

Summary: You can’t know what he does—you can’t ever know. You could be in enough danger as it is if you’re ever connected to Bruce Wayne; he can’t imagine the repercussions if you were somehow associated with Batman. 

“So, who is she?” 

Liz asks it with a knowing, cat-like smile on her lips, brow arching. The question raises Bruce’s hackles, but he manages to keep a calm, serene smile on his lips. 

“Who’s who?” He bats back unblinkingly. It takes everything in him to hold still, to keep his gaze on Liz’s, his hand steady on his glass of wine. She doesn’t blink first; she doesn’t laugh it off or change the topic. She waits. For ten long, uncomfortably quiet seconds, they both wait—until her boyfriend asks Bruce to pass the bread, and the date that Liz arranged for Bruce comes back from the bathroom, asking what she’s missed.

--  

“Why are you still up?” 

“Why are you calling if you didn’t want to talk to me?” 

Bruce can’t help but smile. Sure, he’d asked a stupid question, but you sound so damn sleepy and soft. He can just imagine you at his place, curled up in his bed, wearing another one of his borrowed shirts. He leans against the wall of one of Liz’s bathrooms, eyeing the door. 

“I want to talk to you,” He murmurs. “But I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You didn’t. I was just watching tv.” 

“You sound like you were sleeping.”

“I was just resting my eyes.” 

“Sure you were.” 

“Don’t get sassy with me, Bruce Wayne. I know where you live. Hell—I am where you live.” 

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything. If you do, tell Alfred, he’ll—” 

“It’s late. I’m not makin’ Alfred do anything. ‘Sides, if I want anything, I’ll get it for myself.” 

“So stubborn.” 

“Stubborn?” 

“Stubborn, yes you are.” 

“This from a man who rented out an entire restaurant and then took me to Burger King because I said he wouldn’t.” 

“That’s not stubbornness. It’s being decisive.” 

“Well I have decided that if I want anything, I’ll get it myself, and I won’t ask Alfred.” 

Bruce chuckles softly, scrubbing his hand over his eyes. 

“Alright,” He concedes, nodding and looking down at his feet. 

“Are you having a nice time with your friends?” 

Bruce glances toward the door, pursing his lips and considering. 

“Yeah,” He says, “Liz’s boyfriend is nice.” 

“Mind telling the paparazzi that?” 

Bruce smiles. “I’ll send out an email.” 

“Perfect.” 

“‘Liz Wyatt is unequivocally not dating Bruce Wayne’.” 

“Should be enough to satisfy Mich.” 

“Is that what matters to you?” 

“No, of course not.” 

He tries not to find the way you rush over your words so precious. 

“I was teasing,” He offers before you feel the need to explain yourself. 

“Ugh—That is not nice, Wayne. Wake a girl up and you start teasing her.” 

“I thought you were just watching tv.” 

“...I’m hanging up now,” You grumble. “Go—Be fancy-schmancy and rich and attractive with your fancy-schmancy and rich and attractive friends.” 

“Text me if you need anything before I come back. ‘kay?” 

“Not Alfred?” 

“Not Alfred.” 

“I will. Keep it down when you come in?” 

“Sure,” Bruce smiles, shifting from foot to foot. Then, against his better judgement, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do…Mwah.” 

Bruce chuckles before he hangs up, lowering his phone. He looks down at your contact, and the little photo he has of you there. He draws in a deep breath before he reaches down, unlocking the door and opening it. 

“Shit—” He hisses, jumping as he catches sight of Liz standing there, waiting. “This apartment is huge. Do you not have any other bathrooms?” 

“So who is she?” Liz plies.

“How thin is that door?” 

“Bruce.” 

“...Just someone I’ve been seeing.” 

“Who is…?” 

“What’s it matter?” 

“Explains why you didn’t so much as glance at Cici at dinner.” 

“That’s not true. I glanced at her plenty.” 

“C’mon, Bruce, you know that that’s not what I mean.” She glances over Bruce before proclaiming: “I wanna meet her.” 

“What for?” 

“Because when was the last time you ever dated someone? You didn’t even do that in college. Besides, you’ve met my boyfriend.” 

“And that was your choice.” 

“Are you ashamed of her or something?” 

The question punches him in the middle of the chest, his expression hardening. He’s taken hits from crowbars, guns, and baseball bats that have hurt less. 

“Of course I’m not.” It leaves him with a thread of steel that he’s never heard in his own voice—not outside of the suit, anyway. 

“Good,” Liz’s smile is as bright and as steady as ever. “I wanna meet her. Bring her over here for dinner, we’ll double.” 

“If I bring her, I don’t want this to be an interrogation.” 

“It won’t be an interrogation. It’ll be dinner.” 

Liz is still pointing that smug, satisfied little smile at him. She knows he won’t back down from a challenge, not like this. 

He’s too damn stubborn. 

-- 

Dawn is just beginning to creep over the city as he climbs into bed with you at the penthouse. The room is pitch-black; he can hardly make out your form under the sheets. He feels your warmth as he lifts the covers; he cuddles in close, curling his body around yours. He smiles as you stir, as you press back against his chest and rest a hand on his. 

“Bruce?” 

You're mumbling, and your voice is a little rough in a way that it wasn't on the phone last night. Maybe you had only been resting your eyes when he called, just on the edge of sleep on his couch. 

“Mhm,” He hums, gently wiggling his fingers against yours. 

“You just gettin’ in now?” 

Bruce rests his head between your shoulder blades, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. 

“Of course not.” 

The lie is as blatant, as plain to him as the nose on his face. But you can’t know what he does—you can’t ever know. You could be in enough danger as it is if you’re ever connected to Bruce Wayne; he can’t imagine the repercussions if you were somehow associated with Batman. 

“Just got up to use the bathroom,” He tacks on. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“S’okay,” You murmur, pushing back against him again. 

“Go back to sleep.”

“Mmmkay.” Your grip tightens on his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. Bruce smiles, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He’ll worry about Liz and everything else in the morning…Well. Later in the morning. 

--  

“You busy tonight?” 

“You sound like you’ve been gargling with rocks,” You laugh, glancing up toward the door of the stockroom. “Are you just getting up now?” 

“No. No, been up before, and then uh…Down again. What time is it?” 

“It’s almost two in the afternoon.” 

“Oh, that’s not so bad.” 

“Frickin’ billionaires,” You mutter, scrubbing your hand over your face. 

“So?” Bruce pushes on, “You busy?” 

“Depends.”

“On?” 

“What you have in mind.” 

“Dinner with Liz?” 

You blink slowly, stunned. Dinner with her? Why the heck would Bruce want to bring you to dinner with Liz Wyatt? She’s all glamorous, and cool, and you’re…You. You work in a store, you’re not like Liz. You’re not even like Bruce. You don’t realize how long you’ve been in your own head until Bruce says, “...Hello? Are you—” The words drift away, like he's looking at his phone, then back in, “Are you still there?” 

“Yes! Yeah, sorry, I was, uh—” You clear your throat. “I got distracted.” 

“So? You busy?” 

“Uh…” You glance around the room, like there’s a good answer scrawled on the wall somewhere. Your mouth works wordlessly for a moment before you manage, “N-no. I mean, no, I’m not busy.” 

“Great. I can pick you up from work?” 

“I should get changed after work, not, uh—My place? I mean, what time does she expect us over? Should I bring something? I can get a—” 

“Okay,” Bruce chuckles on the other side of the phone, halting your panicked questions. “We don’t have to go.” 

“No, we can go, I just—” 

“Take a deep breath, sweetheart.” 

“I’m breathing just fine—” 

“We’ll do it another night—or not at all, if you don't want to.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t wanna go, I just—You know, I’m processing.” 

“Sounds like you’re freaking out.” 

“I’m not freaking out! I’m asking questions. I am asking relevant questions.” 

“You’re also repeating yourself.” 

“...We can go,” You insist. “I just need to get ready.” 

“Alright.” 

“How fancy should I dress?” 

“It’s just dinner at her place, you don’t have to get all…you know.” 

“Well, what are you wearing?” 

“Right now? Not much.” 

“Bruce.” 

“You should come back.” 

“What, right now?” 

“Mhm.”

“I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Alright—Hey.” 

“Yeah?” 

“...It’s gonna be fine.” 

You nod, though Bruce can’t see you. 

“I know,” You agree. “I wasn’t worried. I’m not worried.” 

“You’re doing that repeating thing again.” 

“Really hanging up now.” 

You draw your phone away from your ear, peering down at it warily for a moment. Dinner with Liz Wyatt. What do you wear to a model’s house? What do you bring to a model’s house? Oh, there’s gotta be answers for this all over Quora. 

--  

“You look beautiful.” 

“...Well don’t sound too surprised,” You grumble, straightening your sweater before turning to go back into the apartment. “I need like two more minutes, I just have to get on my earrings and my shoes.” 

“Those flowers for Liz?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Nice choice. She loves carnations.” 

“I know. I did some googling,” You admit guiltily, taking up one of the earrings from the table and putting it in. 

“Are they in a vase?” Bruce tacks in, tapping his finger against the glass of it. 

“Mhm. Keeps her from having to go and find one when we get there.” 

“Clever.” 

“I’m very smart.” 

“I know that.” 

You smile as you raise your other earring, fastening it. You glance back as Bruce cuddles up behind you and pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“...We really don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, brow furrowing. 

“...You’re making me think that you’re the one that doesn’t want to go,” You manage after a moment, glancing back at Bruce. He shakes his head, resting his hands on your hips. 

“I’m just making sure...Guess it’s time you met a couple of my friends, anyway. I’ve met yours.” 

“You’ve met one friend,” You argue, chuckling. 

“Mm. Where is Michelle?” 

“Work.” 

“She know where we’re going tonight?” 

“Nope, I just said we were getting dinner.” You reach out, taking up your jacket from where it’s hung over the back of your kitchen chair.  “If Liz is amenable, I’ll send Mish a selfie later, maybe surprise the shit out of her.” 

“All set?—I’ve got them,” Bruce reaches out, taking hold of the flower vase before you can pick them up. 

“Thanks. Is Alfred downstairs?” 

“Nope, I’m drivin’.” 

“Fancy.” 

--  

“...Is Liz’s apartment like yours?” You ask, shifting in the passenger seat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just, you know…Big, and…Nice.” 

“Yes, it’s both of those.” 

“Okay.” 

“Why?” 

“Just—Need to prepare myself so that my jaw doesn’t drop when I get inside.” 

“Your jaw didn’t drop when you got to my place.” 

“It was frozen shut at that point...Speaking of which,” You tack on, “Power’s fully up and running again, so I’ll get out of your hair.” 

“...You can stay if you want.” 

“In your hair?” 

Bruce casts you a side-long smile. “I just mean you can stay over whenever you like.” 

You smile, sliding down in your seat a little. “Noted, thank you…And you’re always welcome at ours, though it’s not as nice.” 

“Your bed’s comfy.” 

“That’s true.” 

You glance out of the tinted window, watching the swankiest skyscrapers in Gotham fly by. You feel Bruce take your hand, and a smile unwittingly grows on your lips.

“Shouldn’t you have both hands on the wheel, Mr. Wayne?” 

“I’ve got it,” He reassures. You hum in concession, grasping his hand with both of yours. You close your eyes, drawing in a deep breath. 

“We can—” 

“Don’t say we can still turn around,” You warn. 

“Alright.” 

You open your eyes, tipping your head to the side and watching Bruce. 

“Do you want to turn around?” You offer.

“No.” 

“Okay, so…We’re agreed.” 

You loosen your grasp on Bruce’s hand, sliding down in your seat a little more and resting your head on your hand. It’s a moment before Bruce pats your thigh, then draws his hand back. You’d actually managed to shake some of your nerves, but Bruce’s repeated insistence that you don’t have to go to dinner is making you more and more nervous. You draw in a deep breath and hold it for a few moments before you slowly push it back out. 

“Okay,” You hear Bruce mutter. You frown as he pulls into a street space, and glance around. 

“We can’t be here already,” You frown as he puts the car in park. 

“Listen,” Bruce turns in his seat to face you. Your stomach flips with nerves, and you brace yourself. “I’ve never introduced anyone to Liz—Or, to most of my friends. Not anyone that I've been more serious about.” 

Your brows raise at his admission. He's serious—about you? Bruce reaches out, taking hold of your hand again. 

“I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out," He adds, "But I don’t know what we’re in for, either.” 

“...You’re nervous?” You realize, stunned. 

“Am I not allowed?” 

“Come on, you know that that’s not what I mean,” You mutter. You sigh, looking down at his hand again, turning your hand over in his, intertwining your fingers. 

“...I didn’t even consider the fact that you might be nervous,” You admit. You raise your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. Your nerves flare as Bruce slips his hand from yours, but he takes hold of your jaw, turning your head and leaning in. He gives you a gentle kiss, thumb sweeping your cheek. You smile, patting his cheek as he draws back. 

 “We’re gonna be fine.” 

-- 

Dinner’s not bad—in fact, it’s quite nice. It’s catered. You’d typically ask if there’s anything that you could do to help with prep, but there’s an officious staff of three flurrying around Liz’s restaurant-grade kitchen. Liz is quite nice herself, but she and Bruce can sometimes make you feel a little on the outside. You don’t think they’re doing it on purpose—they have a shared history, a longer history than you have with Bruce. 

On the other hand, Liz’s boyfriend is lovely. He gives you smiles when the two of you are in the same conversational boat, watching as Bruce and Liz chatter on on topics that neither of you are familiar with. He lobs easy questions at you, backs Liz down from touchier questions, and keeps the wine and conversation flowing. You actually start to enjoy yourself, until—

“So you two are going to the gala together, of course.” 

Liz’s boyfriend grimaces, eyes flicking to you apologetically. It seems he can’t back her down from that one quickly enough. Your brow furrows, a smile frozen on your face as you repeat, “Gala?” 

“For the Wayne Foundation! Oh, don’t tell me Bruce didn’t tell you,” Liz glances between you and Bruce chastisingly. You turn your head to look at Bruce. He still has a smile on his face, but it’s that plasticized smile he gave your manager, and accompanied by a tight jaw. He won’t even meet your eye—hell, he’s not meeting anyone’s eye. 

“Bruce,” Liz tacks on scoldingly, “You haven’t even given her time to prepare. She’ll hardly have time to get a dress now—Leave that to me,” She adds, leaning in and resting her hand atop yours. “I know all the designers in Gotham, I’m sure they can rush something by the 21st.” 

“Oh,” You force yourself to laugh, shaking your head, “You know what—He did, but I’ve got work that night.” 

“Surely you can take off.” 

“I really can’t,” You insist. “My manager doesn’t like me very much. She barely forgave me for disappearing with Bruce for my lunch hour.” 

“What!” Liz’s eyes brighten as she leans back. “Oh, I have to hear that story.” 

It’s a safe enough diversion. You feel Bruce watching you; you don’t dare turn to fully meet his gaze, though you glance at him every now and again. Your mouth works on autopilot, but your mind is racing. Was Bruce even going to tell you about this? Or was this going to be one of those things that he does—those nights when he just goes off and acts like Bruce Wayne at before crawling into bed with you just before dawn? 

Frankly, you’re not sure which you’d prefer.

Next Part

[garfinkelstingle]

matthew's letter to james

hi, i was bored and decided to transcribe the additional letter from matthew to james from the waterstone edition of chain of thorns!

thanks to the peeps out there posting pictures of it, you're the true heroes!

Dear James,

When we talked about my trip, and the places I wished to see, you may recall that--while I wished to be beholden to no agenda or itinerary--I did say there were three cities in Europe I would die rather than miss: Vienna. Berlin. And of course, Venice. Your eyes lit up when I mentioned the latter, and I promised to send you word of the City of Masks when I arrived.

Well, I have been here for three days and I wish to share with you my impressions of the city. As one wanders, one discovers quickly that there are two modes of line in Venice: wet and quiet, or wet and loud. I have, as you would imagine, kept myself to its loudest parts.

It is a city beloved of mermaids, obviously, and in general Downworld is dominated by the fishier side of Faerie. You may ask, do I mean the aquatic parts, or do I mean the dodgy parts? And to that I say, sir, I mean both. Never have I seen so many mermaids, and never have I seen more complex scheming. Within moments of arriving at one of their fames half-sunk tavernas, I was drawn into three assassination plots, two blackmails, and a plot to steal a large sapphire owned by someone named "Il Granchio," who turned out to not just be named after but to actually be himself a giant talking crab. What marvels I have missed by remaining in sodden old London. I have never been threatened with having my head pinched off before, and I daresay it has fortified my character.

As with every other city I visit, I have had to spend half my time dodging local Shadowhunters. The local Institute is always very welcoming, and by "welcoming" I mean they wish to put me on patrol. But this is not my travel year and I am not visiting the world's most interesting places in order to patrol them, or to fight their demons at all, really.

(Obviously if a demon crosses my path, I will dispatch it posthaste. I am still a Nephilim born and bred, and thus feel a certain amount of demon-focused violence is good for the blood. Nevertheless, I have found that one does not need to wander the streets of a city to encounter its dangers. Instead I have followed the strategy of going directly to a city's most unsavory places, where trouble will regularly appear without much fuss on my part.)

The only thing worse than Shadowhunters who want to hunt demons with me, are Shadowhunters who want to Put a Word in My Ear because I have "access" to the Consul. As though when I speak to my mother she wishes me to convey the minor grievances of a bureaucrat from Turin. No, she wants to know if I am eating enough (I am) and whether I am wearing the scarf she knitted for me (I am not). If the Continental Shadowhunters wish to politic they will have to wait for Charles to come through. That's their punishment for taking life too seriously.

On a slightly more sober note--as it were--it is difficult to debauch through the world without the social lubrication of drink. I suppose I knew that before I set out, but the reality can be hard to bear. Everywhere I go I am plied with drink, which I must decline, explaining that I have come not for the alcohol but only for the gambling and the perversion. Even on the rare occasion when I have been unable to avoid visiting an Institute they inevitably drag out the dustiest bottle in their cellar and I must rush to stop them before they open it for a guest who cannot appreciate it.

The problem is that nobody seems to understand why one might not wish to drink. It is very frustrating. Everyone recognizes that one can drink to excess and need to stop for the sake of one's health, but to encounter such a person in reality bewilders them. And I can hardly order water in the sorts of places I am visiting. As a result, I have become a great consumer of black coffee, which I down by the ucketful so as to be seen imbibing something. Unfortunately, this means I now require several large cups of the stuff a day just to keep myself upright. I suppose a dependency on coffee is much less debilitating than a dependency on drink. At the very least it is less dangerous to one's health, by which I mean I have never yet drunk a pot of coffee and awoken on the cold stone steps of a baptistry wrapped in the Union Jack, which I cannot say is true of my time as a drinker of liquor. It nevertheless makes me a bit of a figure of scrutiny, the Englishman who turns down drink. I have begun to tell the especially insistent that I am under a faerie curse and if ever liquor should touch my mouth I shall transform into a badger. I tell you, I look forward to later in the year when I shall be in countries where the mundanes' religion prohibits alcohol. Although I imagine the coffee consumption will only rise.

But I was speaking of Venice, somewhere on an earlier page. You shall have to tell Pickles at the Devil that here there is no need to bring a tub with you to soak in, for the Downworld bars are mostly half-sunk into the lagoon and one sits with one's lower half in water and one's upper half at a table. This is an excellent arrangement for the mermaids and a terrible arrangement for anyone else. The werewolves go around looking like drowned rats half the time.

In addition to the continued popularity of drink and debauch, Venice is also mad for seances. (In this it resembles most other places I have visitied; the whole continent seems mad for ghosts these days. What a career Jesse could have had had he remained disembodied.) I ran into Madame Dorothea yesterday while in a dimly-lit lounge of poor reputation playing Trappola. (Because what goes better with card-playing than dire warning and demands from one's dead family members?) This is not the first time I have seen her on my travels--like me, she appears to be touring. I encountered her first in a brown café in Rotterdam and then again at a floating cabaret on the Rhine a few weeks ago. Both times I could barely see her through the tobacco smoke, but I did get to witness her admonishing a vampire that his late mother was very disappointed in him because she had expected him to become a lawyer.

By this our fourth encounter, Dorothea and I nodded knowingly to each other as fellow-travelers, and she asked me directly if there was anyone I wished to speak to. I demurred, but she was insistent, and having singled me out the crowd demanded I follow through. I searched my mind for anyone whose messages would not be potentially harmful to my good mood, and finally asked her if I could speak with Oscar Wilde. (The man, not the dog, of course; Oscar Wilde the dog awaited me loyally at the pensione as usual.)

At this point I had no doubt about the genuine power possessed by Dorothea, and so when a gruff but cultured voice emanated from that lady's mouth I knew at one it was him. Of course I immediately went off my head and said the only thing I could think of, which, foolishly, was that I thought he would sound more Irish.

Rather dryly he informed me that he had deliberately put aside his accent while at Oxford, and that he hoped I had not called him back from sailing beyond the sunset in order to complain about his diction. (He got quite enough of that from the ghost of his sister, apparently.) I told him no, but that I wished him to know that his House of Pomegranates had been a formative text for me in my youth. Which was a terrible understatement of the importance of his writing to me, but I could think of nothing else. I felt a fool the moment I said it.

Rather acidly he told me that he no longer concerned himself much with notices or reviews, being dead. At this point Dorothea's body-language showed that the spirit was becoming restless, and the crowd was on his side. More politely than I deserved, he suggested that I might wish to ask him for some advice, or at least wisdom, that he might provide from his side of the veil.

Struck, I blurted out, "In the past I have made so many errors, have caused so much hurt. Can I make up for them? Will I carry them with me forever, or can they ever be left behind in the past?"

At this the crowd became hushed. This was not what they had come to see, but at least it was more interesting than my telling a specter ripped from beyond the void that I liked his work.

Oscar gazed at me--I had no doubt it was him, behind Dorothea's eyes, and I will not soon forget the frisson I felt as he sized me up. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was gentle.

"I see from your cravat," he said, "that you are a man of the world."

I allowed that his observation was accurate.

"And I see from your eyes," he went on, "that you mean to live a grand life. That you have already begun to do so, in fact."

"I do," I told him. "I have."

"To live magnificently," Oscar said, as though carefully choosing his words, "means that your joys will be magnificent, but so too will be your pains. You will celebrate grandly and you will suffer grandly. Such is the covenant of such a life."

"Is it worth it?" said I.

He appeared to shrug. "You can see how it has turned out for me," he said. "Nevertheless, I would not exchange my fate for another. Epictetus said that a man is not made by his circumstances; rather, his circumstances reveal him to himself. I may be paraphrasing," he added, and I thought I head him mutter something to the effect, "Look at me. Dead and still quoting."

Now he took in his surroundings. "Next time you seek me out," he said, "pray do so in a place less chill and damp. I may not feel it, but I still appreciate a decent ambience."

And then he was gone.

I tell you, James, I had little expectation when I asked Dorothea to call upon him, but I left that chill and damp taverna greatly inspired. I share these words with you because, while you are not one to descend into the damp and chill places of the world for the sake of a party, as I am, your life is also grand, and like me you are destined to love grandly, to suffer grandly, and to celebrate grandly. I want you to know that Oscar Wilde says it is worth the trouble. And that I believe him.

The only real sorrow of my travels, of course, is the pangs I feel in being absent from you. Parabatai separated are always missing a bit of themselves, and I carry that lack with me wherever I go. I continue forth to seek more experiences, but I promise to return to you in time, and, I hope, the wiser for it.

Pray give my love to Cordelia, to Lucie, to Thomas and yes, even to Alastair. I miss you all very much, and hope that you are keeping London well for me while I am away. Be well and the Angel protect you.

Love,

Matthew

[good-oldfashioned-lover]

@re-is-back-in-black @silence-between-seconds @her-midas-touch @daydream-of-a-wallflower @not-rab @good-oldfashioned-lover-girl @thedvilsinthedetails @dementorfromazkaban @harry-potter-just-posted

Tagging all you guys because I mostly actively talk to you.

I am 51 days away from my exam which means it's time for me to start getting my shit together. (it is insanely stupid how they make us take one (1) exam that'll quite literally determine our whole life when we're so young tf that's so messed up)

I'll be deleting tumblr til then. Ik I promised you guys a smut fic but istg I'll come back with atleast 3 smutfics to maybe make up for it? *laughs casually in obvious attempt to conceal my guilt spiral on leaving you guys "High and dry"

@multishipperofgaydeadwizards dw I didn't forget you lmao I just wanted to say that I'm gonna come back with SO MANY wierd ass ships just be ready I'm gonna make up for 2 months of absence muahahaha

Wtaf guys- I had insta for like a year or so before i had to delete it for same reason but I wasn't 1/8th nearly as emotional and I am now and I've had tumblr for only like 2 and half months now sndkdkdndfjjdjdkdn

Ik some of you guys sent me messages but I'm gonna have to come back to them because the more I stay the more I'll chicken out of deleting because I love you guys so much aaaaaaahhhhh

Please spam me with a shit ton of stuff to come back hehe <3 {but like only in my asks and messages plis coming back to two months worth of mentions will just send me into a dysfunctional spiral💀 wow am I so easy to manage? (/sarcastic)}

I love you guys sooo much and I'm gonna miss you and I'll most definitely cry later today hehehehehe

*dramatic whisper* this isn't goodbye. This is just a see you in a bit * sparkles sparkles* *dramatic whoosh of the cloak and I dissappear into the darkness*

~💋

[boundinparchment]

For the fanfiction trope: 77 and 23 with Pantalone and someone of your choice (reader, oc, canon character, whatever) Feeling like a little devil on your shoulder 💙

77. In Vino Veritas  

23. Performer AU

Hosts are part of the entertainment industry and thus performers; Pantalone plies you with champagne to speak truthfully.

—————

At this hour, the club was packed with patrons. The air was buzzing with orders and chatter and an energy that bounced and darted between every table.

You were surprised that you were able to extend your time as much as you had. Usually, there were strict time limitations, especially with the head host and manager who rarely sat at a table himself. Tonight was a remarkable exception that had your mind swimming from both the champagne and the glances of pure envy you felt creeping up your neck.

Attentive, your host filled your glass again, a playful sparkle in his eyes. The accent lights cast his hair into a delicate shade of purple, perfectly offset by eyes of molten mora. Although your mind was hazy, you knew the expression on his face well; he intended to pry you open and cradle your heart, leave you begging for more.

He had done it the first night, although you’d been stone cold sober and too stiff for it to truly work. It had taken you three weeks to return after that initial meeting and ask for him specifically. Your heart’s rhythm never quite recovered from the way he’d tilted his head and smiled, complimented you like no other partner had.

“My dear, why did you ask for me?”

So straightforward. Like an arrow. Or more like a bullet aimed right for your soul.

And yet he said it with the most charming smile, eyes crinkled as he looked at you. You couldn’t recall the last time a lover looked at you with such intrigue, with such fascination, or even the last time anyone even…

You giggled, the room spinning a little as you tried to control your tongue. Everything felt so slow, almost like you were frozen in time, and you took a sip of champagne to give you a final bit of bubbly courage.

“You pay attention,” you said, placing your glass down on the table with a ‘clack’.

Your limbs didn’t want to work anymore but that was okay. You turned your head back to him, the act feeling so much slower than it truly was, sending your line of vision into whiplash for a moment; blinking, everything seemed to settle again and your host remained listening, his eyebrows a little higher now.

“The first night was a fluke-you were filling in for someone else on the list who wasn’t available,” you continued. “But I picked you because of…”

You opened a hand and gestured vaguely to his entire personage before you pointed at his face. Your arm wavered, the alcohol having seeped into every cell in your body.

“Because of the way you listen. No one listens. No one sees me.”

“But I do.”

Your grinned so wide your face felt like it was splitting in two as you poked his chest, right near his tie clip.

“You do, Pantalone. You always do.”

Just a role to play, you reminded yourself. That was his job. To listen, to placate, to entertain and socialize.

Your eyes burned.

“But you deserve someone to listen to you, too. Here you are, entertaining people and hearing about their lives and who they are…but who listens to you?”

He took your hand in his own. They were warm and soft, the hands of a man who cared for himself. His lips against your knuckles were warmer, scalding even, and you felt your body betray you for a second when your heart practically stopped.

“You worry too much, my dear. I have you to listen in return, do I not? Or have I always misread your kindness?”

He pulled the glass away when you reached for it, cutting you off for the evening. For a fraction of a second, you caught a flicker of something else before his smile widened and his charm returned. That familiar twinkle in his eye made your mouth run dry.

“Perhaps next time, we can share a meal together. I know a lovely place nearby that serves some of the best desserts outside of Fontaine.”

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

julia, on a wednesday

the following weekend, julia spent time at a beach house with jim's family. seeing pictures on instagram, annie immediately understood why julia had grown the landing strip. she had a small white bikini on in every photo, and in the ones where it was wet, the landing strip was extremely visible.

annie texted her to ask how it went over. "i'm very popular with his dad and brother now," she replied. "his mom doesn't really look at me. but she also walked in on jim fucking me."

robbie was home again that weekend, and so annie was at ted's, fucking him every few hours, getting stoned with lucy, and sending nudes to robbie, and to julia, and to jim. she's started doing this on a thread with julia, but now frequently sent jim her own pics, and he replied with pictures of his cock in julia and his cum on her skin. annie loved being horny about jim with julia. "i love your fiance's cock," she would text her.

jim let her know that his brother had sent him a kind of horny text about being able to see julia's landing strip through her bikini, and annie had encouraged him to send his brother a picture of julia naked. his brother had reciprocated with a picture of his wife.

"it's fucking crazy," jim said. "i've known this woman for a decade, she is the mother of my niece and nephew, and how i know what her tits and bush look like."

"amazing," annie replied. "you're welcome."

when julia returned, she and annie began shopping for the wedding. dress shopping was so fun. the women plied you with champagne, and when they picked up on annie and julia's flirty energy, often joined right in. particularly claire, a sales clerk in her mid-20s who annie sensed was in this job for the joy of it and not the money. as they chatted annie learned that claire was an aspiring event-planner.

julia was changing into dresses right in front of them, in a thong and lace bra, and when annie expressed interest in trying on a dress, claire encouraged her to, so she also stripped to her white panties and pink bra. when claire mentioned that one dress was the one she'd pick, annie begged her to try it on. she tried not to look too hungrily at claire as she slipped out of her black dress. her trimmed pubic hair stuck out a bit around her thong and her very light, nearly invisible nipples poked out a bit from the top of her bra.

"you're so fucking hot," annie told her.

annie had slipped her her number as they left, no decisions yet made. claire texted her an hour later as she and julia were getting early afternoon drinks.

"i don't normally eat pussy but do you want to get together so i can eat your pussy?" claire had texted. "i have a boyfriend so you know, hush hush."

"yes please," annie had replied.

she met claire at her apartment an hour later. the girl seemed nervous but eager. robbie was out, so they went straight to the bed, and claire let annie undress her.

they fucked for three hours -- sweaty, wild, energetic. they kissed and touched and grinded and licked and spit and gasped. annie loved claire's body -- she was tall and thin, like annie, with similarly big breasts and pale skin. the hair on her head was shorter and her pussy was hairier but those were the main differences.

"that was the best fuck of my life," claire told annie in the shower after.

"me too," annie said.

she met ted for dinner that night, and then couldn't manage to cum on his cock after. she faked an orgasm anyway. when she was done, she texted claire.

"i just fucked my boyfriend and it was so boring," she said.

"ditto," claire replied. "i think you made me fucking gay."

a long, hard morning fuck with ted helped annie feel her heterosexuality again. he put his thumb up her ass and she screamed his name so many times her throat hurt. when he came in her mouth, it was soothing to swallow it. ted wandered out to the kitchen after with his dick out, saying good morning to lucy on his way to the bathroom.

her first patient of the morning on thursday was marie, a bored housewife that annie was trying to get interested in hobbies outside of her home. she seemed to feel obligated to do nothing but chores and was collapsing inward. every week annie noticed it felt like less of her personality was coming through.

"marie," annie asked. "do you ever... masturbate?"

marie looked a little taken aback. "what kind of question is that?"

"i just think maybe it would be good for you to relax a little," annie said. "and that's one way I do it."

"i don't need to know that about you," marie said.

"it's OK," annie said. "it's normal, real life stuff."

"i was raised to not to do that," marie said.

"really?"

"self-pleasure is a sin. my father told me."

"well, i was not raised religiously," annie said. "my parents thought it was a good way to keep me from having premarital sex."

"did it work?" marie asked. "you're not married."

annie laughed. "no, it didn't work. i have a lot of premartial sex."

marie grinned despite herself. "i mean, i did too. with my now husband."

"you little sinner, you," annie said. "i know it sounds strange to get a presecription like this... but seriously. try touching yourself."

"i am genuinely not sure i know how."

annie laughed. "just feel around until something feels good, and then keep doing that."

marie said she would try.

after the session, annie checked her phone. she had a message from claire, a picture of herself masturbating.

that night jim texted annie that he and his brother had exchanged more photos - jim had sent him one of julia's spread pussy and he'd sent a similar one of his wife. his brother had asked if julia ever shaved and jim had sent a few shaved pussy pics, and his brother had sent him a video of his wife in the shower, shaving her pussy and touching herself for him as he filmed.

[thetotomoo]

Day 18, DHR Month, Books (Week 3): “Pride and Prejudice”

Title: The Deconstruction and Ruination of a Would-Be Gentleman

Word Count: 1,301

Chapters 1/3

Rating: E

Summary:

For all the privileges a gentlewoman has come to afford in the last two centuries, it has become a universal and acknowledged truth that a woman in possession of sense, sensibility, and her own good fortune is not in need of a husband.

CW: Eventual Smut, Wordplay, Fluff and Smut, Fast Burn, Jane Austen inspired, Dramione Month 2024

~~~***~~~

For all the privileges a gentlewoman has come to afford in the last two centuries, it has become a universal and acknowledged truth that a woman in possession of sense, sensibility, and her own good fortune is not in need of a husband.

Modern men, Hermione Granger once told him, simply lacked the attributes well suited to the title and breeding of good gentlemen. Men were crass, uncouth, and wholly ignorant of the importance of yearning.

And despite his mannerisms, education, and social graces, Draco Malfoy could hardly consider himself to be a proper gentleman. He had never considered himself modest, kind, or unassuming. He preferred to voice his opinions, show his ire, and never restrain any pride.

Pride was, without a doubt, the worst of Draco’s follies. It had been the reason for many blunders in his youth and the sole reason he was still making amends today. But while he meant to fully acquit himself to the witch who stood at his trial and spoke in his favor, today would not be that day.

No— today, after many hours working side by side at the newly formed Department of Mysteries and being subjected to her list, her opinions, and visions for the new Wizarding World, he simply had enough.

Granger had strolled through the Ministry doors that morning, dressed in an unusual garb bearing Pansy’s new clothing line and wearing the scantest drop of perfume— just enough to intrigue his senses. And when asked as to what occasion she had donned such an outfit for, she simply shrugged and said nothing.

Nothing as she bent over tables to reach for scrolls and books.

Nothing when she would brush past him through the wide stacks.

Nothing when the clock struck, signaling the end of the day and she stood, unfastening the top three buttons of her blouse and fanning herself in the freezing room before she turned on those impossibly high heels and walked away.

He meant to woo her—decided upon it at the end of the first week they began to work together when she reminded him she could still send him stumbling back with just her fist if he dared show any amount of indecency. But he was determined to be a gentleman by offering a proper apology and getting to know her likes and dislikes before bringing small gifts: large vases of flowers, the finest chocolates, and the rarest of books.

Then, after months of bestowing and lavishing attention on her, he would ask her to join him for dinner and whisk her away to a picnic in Rome or an exclusive restaurant in Paris.

Once he had plied her with wine and good food, Draco would politely bring her home, kiss her hand, and bid her good night and sweet dreams.

He would continue this for weeks and months and only ought to consider kissing her once he gained the approval of her friends and family.

He would wait like a good gentleman was expected to do and only take her to bed after they married.

But beneath the pressed suit, gleaming cufflinks, and styled pale blonde coiff, Draco Malfoy was not a gentleman. He was far from it, in fact, when his arms neither carried a meager bouquet nor held a bag of takeaway from Granger’s favorite Muggle restaurant just outside the walls of Diagon Alley.

He knocked insistently at her door, tapping his foot impatiently as he heard her voice sing from the other side.

“Coming!”

Draco’s brows twitched, and he frowned at the insinuation, tamping down the sudden flash of images of skin on skin.

“Malfoy!”

“Granger,” he nodded, leaning against the frame as nonchalantly as he could.

She was still dressed in those bloody clothes, the fabric draped across her shoulders and down her frame down to the tips of her toes (thankfully devoid of those heels). Unthankfully, she had not shucked off her blouse and had kept the three buttons at the top unfastened, giving him a glance at the lace beneath.

“Something the matter?” she asked, and he swore he caught a wisp of a smirk that was beginning to curve on her lips.

Draco was tempted, as he often resigned himself in moments such as this, to brush off her concern with a smirk and continue about his day. But he found himself, hands in his pockets, without so much as a distraction to divert her attention to anything but the need written on his face.

He could feel it— the heat that had risen up his neck to sit on his cheeks, the stiffness of his jaw as he glared longingly at her, and the rapid pulse at his neck as he tempered back a growl.

So, he chose the rather ungentlemanly course instead— honesty.

“You,” he said.

“Me?” She asked, arched brows furrowing as she opened the door further, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Tell me, Granger, were you aware how much I’ve struggled today because you chose to indulge the whim and fancy of one of Pansy’s ideas?”

“Struggled? Malfoy, I didn’t… it wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what, Granger? Meant to cause me agonizing pain?”

“No! Well… yes… but no,” she finished and bit her lip.

“What?”

Hermione sighed and shifted on her feet, “I thought… well, you were moving so slow. Which I admire, mind you. It’s not very often a man shows interest, and even less often they listen to anything I have to say. So, when you didn’t ask last week about the Ministry ball…”

Her voice trailed, and she looked anywhere but him. He stood, swallowing thickly, hands finding their way out of his pockets to grip the frame of her door.

“Granger.”

“Pansy and Ginny… they had this grand idea that I should… and then you would…”

“Granger…”

“Well, I was wrong. And I feel such a fool because you probably—”

“Granger,” he snapped before softening when he caught her gaze, “You aren’t wrong.”

Her lashes fluttered, and then she stared, her shapely lips pouting while she regarded him.

“You’re never wrong.”

“So, you…”

“I like you.”

“You like me?” Hermione asked, stepping forward to search his face for any untruth. But there was none— not when she had effectively reduced him and his plans to dust. He had meant to court her like a proper gentleman should and slowly lay the foundations of his affections at her feet. And yet, here he was, shattered and made undone by the mere sight of her in new clothes.

“Yes, I like you. The insufferable witch that you are. Do you have any idea how torturous the past few months have been around you?” He groaned, “To see you laugh, to hear your voice, and share what joy you found in the pages of those books. I meant to do this, you know… tell you everything.”

“Then tell me, Malfoy,” she whispered before the warmth of her palms cupped his face.

He resisted dropping his hands to her hips and pinning her to him until he was sure he had memorized every dip and curve of her figure.

“I can’t,” he said and added when he saw the drop of her face, “Not if I mean to treat you properly like a good gentleman.”

“Malfoy,” she said, fingers caressing and pulling him to whisper along his lips, “I don’t want proper or gentle.”

What remaining notion of propriety Draco had left, burned and turned to ash when Hermione kissed him. She was not slow or gentle with the tug of her fingers through his hair and press of her body against his. And when she nipped and swept her tongue along Draco’s bottom lip, he shuddered and groaned, finally letting his hands fall to her hips and allow her to pull him through the threshold.

[thranduilland]

Head canon that started out with @msgeekstyle as a cracky 'haha, but what if?!' that has slowly started to consume my life. I'll have to write fic for it after I finish my fae Hob series but...

Hob as the spawn of Lucifer. His dad was some human, Hob never found out who. They spent their entire life hiding out in Hell, affectionally referred to as 'the Hope in Hell' because of how much everyone loved them. Then, into their 20s-30s they were like 'mother, I'm off to the human realm, I want to explore' and Lucifer is like '... you're just going to break out if I try to ground you here, aren't you?' and Hob is like 'what can I say, mother? You are the original rebel and I take after you greatly' and Lucifer is like 'God did this to me on purpose! Fine!! You can go! Be careful!!'

Hob hanging about with the humans, getting into some of their battles. Falling in love with their innovation and persistence. Stubbornly ignoring the baby demons Lucifer sent along to keep an eye on him.

1389 comes along, Hob's human friends have dragged him along to a pub. They're all chatting about death, because why the fuck not? and Hob decides to play devil's advocate and declare that he's simply never gonna die. Death is stupid and he has far more interesting shit to get up to.

Dream and Death are intrigued by him, because there is just... something about him. They have their wager and Dream goes to inform Hob, who has no idea who he is talking to but is like 'yeah, I'm game for this! :D ' and agrees to meet back in the pub in a hundred years.

Hob trots off back to Hell like 'Mother, I made a magical friend! We're going to meet in a hundred years to talk about my life' and Lucifer is like '... who is this person?' and Hob is just 'dunno, anyway, gotta run, promised I'd help my human friends with something!!' Lucifer tries to ask Hob's minders who the stranger was, but they're young enough they have never met Dream or Death before so they're like 'idk.'

The 1489 meeting happens as per canon and Hob has a moment where he is actually genuinely afraid he has made a deal with one of his mum's demons, though he's sure they all would know better than to fuck with him like that. So, he's really relieved when Dream clarifies it's nothing like that. Hob trots off back to Hell to tell his mother about his meeting with his stranger. She again is like 'wtf is it ?!' and he's like 'dunno!! Gotta run! :D' and she asks his minders again and they're like 'dunno', cos they still have no fucking clue who Dream is. Lucifer sighs about it and sends Crowley to keep an eye on him, because Crowley is old enough to have met basically every magical being that it could be. Crowley is like 'yeah, alright, I'll do it.'

1589 comes around. Crowley has already figured out that the mystery stranger isn't a danger to Hob, because if he was he'd have already done something to him at either their first meeting or their second. So he spends the time indulgently watching Aziraphale drink people under the table the whole night. They head on back to Hell and Lucifer is like 'so who was it?!' and Crowley is like 'oh, didn't see, I was busy keeping an angel of the Lord from noticing Hope's presence' and Lucifer is like '... fair argument. Fine. Do better next time!' and Crowley is like 'yep, 100% will do that!'

1600s come along, Eleanor and Robyn die and Hob goes into a full on bout of depression. Crowley has to dig him out of the river when they drown him as a witch. He gets quietly handed over to Aziraphale who plies him with tea and food and books to try and perk him up a bit, but it doesn't work, and he wanders off back into the streets of London. 1689 meeting comes along, Crowley is busy searching for him and has completely forgotten that the meeting was supposed to take place, else he woulda gone straight there. Hob doesn't go back to Hell to tell Lucifer about it, so she doesn't get an gossip from that session and when she asks Crowley about it he's just like '... he's having a rough time, can't chat long!'

1700s comes along and Hob has thrown himself into the shipping business, ignoring the demonic influence riddled throughout every single point of it. The influence is familiar to him, he grew up surrounded by it, so it's comfortable for him, familiar. So he stays. Has his 1789 meeting with Dream, where Dream tells him it's wrong and initially he's defensive, because who the hell does Dream think he is?!? but then he folds to it, decides to consider it more in depth later... they have their fight with Lady Constantine (Crowley was busy dismantling the carriage outside while the fight was occurring).

Hob goes back to Hell and tells Lucfer about it. She's livid that he got attacked, but he's just like 'nah, it was great and I ALMOST got a name out of my stranger, I'm sure of it!!' and Lucifer is like to Crowley 'did you see who they were finally?' and Crowley is like 'nah, I was busy destroying the carriage so they couldn't get away' and she's like '... fine, I'll allow it...'

1889 comes around. Crowley has a prior engagement with Aziraphale so some other smuck demon gets sent to watch over Hob. Hob doesn't return to Hell after the meeting cos he's too busy drinking his sorrows, but the minor demon does return after Crowley picks up their shift and they're like to Lucifer 'uhm, still don't know who they are, but they're an asshole and they broke Hope's heart D:' and Lucifer is like 'WHAT?! I am going to destroy them!! Whoever they are!!'

Dream doesn't show for the 1989 meeting, obvs. Crowley reports this to Lucifer who is like 'oh, I really am going to ruin them. Just absolutely smite them!! who do they think they are?!?! Playing with my son's heart like this?!?' Lucifer sends Hob a Hell Hound to try to cheer him up, but he sends it back and asks for a Hell Cat instead, Lucifer is like '... yeah sure, okay'. Hob immediately names his Hell Cat 'Eye in the Dark' and it becomes a ball of black fur, that is a stealthy beast of prey. Lucifer is like 'did you have to name it like that?!' and Hob is like 'what's wrong with that?!?!'

Somewhere around this time, Lucifer gives birth to Adam and the events of Good Omens start to kick into play, so some other poor smuck demons get stuck watching Hob, because Crowley is busy watching over Warlock, who he thinks is the Antichrist. Lucifer sends out a Hell Hound for Adam, who names it Dog. Lucifer hearing about this sends Hob a message like 'I take it back. Eye in the Dark is a respectable name for a Hell Creature, please impart this knowledge to your baby brother, who named their's 'Dog!' Hob thinks that is hilarious.

The Apocalypse that Wasn't happens a few months before Dream escapes. Crowley, following the events of the Not Apocalypse gets a message to Lucifer like 'you still want me to keep an eye on the Hell Spawns or nah?! I'm officially off the clock, otherwise' and Lucifer is like '... you know what?!? Yes, keep an eye on them for me and I'll grant you a pardon' and so Crowley continues to check in on Hob, Warlock, and Adam. Hob has basically adopted Warlock as his own baby brother, and dotes upon both boys... and all their friends.

Dream comes back. Has his duel with Lucifer, neither of them knowing about the other's connection to Hob. Dream still wins with Hope, which Lucifer takes hard because like... that's her son, not that Dream knows that. Dream leaves and continues on his canon path, talks with Death, gets nudged to come find Hob.

They meet at the New Inn as per canon, but they agree to keep meeting. Dream pops in at random times and they start dating. Hob misses a check in with Crowley one day because he's busy in bed with Dream.

Crowley bursts into the apartment like 'Hell Spawn?!?!?! Where are you Hell Spawn?!? You can't do this to me, Hell Spawn! I can't tell your mother that I lost another of her sons on my watch!! Don't do that to me, Hell Spawn!!' and Hob is like 'ugh!! I'm fine, Uncle Crowley, go away!!!' and Crowley is like 'nope. Not until I have seen for myself that you are not dying!! I have a duty of care, Hell Spawn!!' and Hob is like 'I AM A GROWN MAN!!' but he stomps out to the living room anyway like 'See?!?! Not dying. Now fuck off, please!!'

Crowley is like 'alright, I will go, but next time, text me, Hell Spawn. You can't just expect me to- Hell Spawn!!! Get behind me!!!!' because Dream has wandered in from behind Hob and Crowley a) knows who Dream is and b) is aware that Dream is on the DNI list for Hell. Hob is like 'what are you doing?! that's just my boyfriend!!' and Crowley is like 'YOU ARE DATING DREAM OF THE ENDLESS?!?!?!' and Hob is like 'His name is Morpheus!!!!' Dream is like '?!?!?!?' about the entire thing. Crowley is like 'Just wait until your mother hears about this!! Cannot believe-!! She is going to slaughter me!! Then she's going to slaughter him!!! then you're going to be grounded forever!!!' and Hob is like 'what are you on about?!'

Crowley eventually leaves, Dream and Hob awkwardly have to explain things to each other, including that one time like 'oh yeah, I beat your mother in duel by apparently invoking you?!?!'

Bonus scene 1:

Dream staring at Eye in the Dark, before he learns of Hob's true nature like 'Why do you have a Hell Cat?!' and Hob is like 'What?! That's just Eye in the Dark, she is a sweetheart!!! :D' Eye in the Dark meanwhile is hissing at Dream like 'hurt him and you won't see me coming!!!' and Dream is like 'So noted, little sister, I mean him no harm...'

Bonus scene 2:

Jed: Who are they, Uncle Dream?

Hob: Oh, these are my little brothers, Warlock and Adam.

Adam: I'm the Antichrist.

Warlock: Former Antichrist.

Adam: Well...

Jed: ...

Adam: Hey, wanna hear that time I almost destroyed the world?!?!?!

Rose: Oh, wow, yeah, they're definitely family.

Dream: !!