New Account But I Know My Ways Of My Old One

Teenagers

𝗜𝗻 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗠𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗕𝗼𝘆𝗰𝗲 (1999-2019)

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER TEN: NEVER WOUND WHAT YOU CAN'T KILL

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SUMMARY ↳ Man, what kind of asshole robs a cafe? There's that familiar poking feeling in your gums. Your body leaps over the counter, tackling the man to the floor. Your fangs fully unsheathe and you make sure that the struggle blocks what you're doing from view. You yank his arm to the side, grabbing the gun out of hand as your teeth sink into his wrist. Your venom pumps into his body. The robber yelps at the pain, before his body gradually stops struggling, slumping. Paralyzing venom, Miguel had deduced, like his.  pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: gunshot wounds, mentions of being paralyzed (its not permanent) wc: 4.1k

While all your other classmates are nervous, you sit and hum to yourself as the final preparations commence. The back of the stage is dimly lit. The large red curtain hides you from the view of the audience. Your ballet shoes are tied snugly, the satin ribbons crisscrossing your ankles in perfect symmetry. You glance around at your fellow dancers, some of them stretching, others whispering last-minute encouragements to each other.

“Well, you seem fine,” says Victoria, coming to your side.

You smile at Victoria, her presence a welcome comfort in the dimly lit backstage area. She looks like the pinnacle of elegance, with her off shoulder ruffles and her sparkly romantic tutu. Her hair is pinned up with flowers. “I don’t really get nervous. Not for this, at least,” you say.

Victoria laughs softly, her eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement and nerves. "I wish I had your calm. Any tips for a nervous wreck?"

You think for a moment, then reply, "Just focus on the music and the movements. Everything else will fall into place."

She nods thoughtfully. "I'll try that. Thanks."

The stage manager's voice breaks through the hushed whispers, calling everyone to their positions. Victoria gives you a quick nod before heading to her spot. You take one last look around, feeling the energy and anticipation building among your fellow dancers.

As you step into your place, the familiar strains of the opening music begin to play. The curtain starts to rise, and the bright stage lights flood the stage, momentarily blinding you. You blink and adjust, finding your mark on the floor.

With a final deep breath, you lift your arms gracefully, your body responding to the music with practiced ease. The audience is out there, but your focus is on the dance, each movement a tribute to the countless hours of preparation and passion that brought you to this moment.

It’s been very long since you participated in a proper performance. You stopped taking classes shortly after you got bit. Occasionally you threw on a youtube video and practiced in your room, just to make sure you still had it. The stage lights feel different now, more intense, more real, yet there’s a comfort in the familiarity of the movements.

As you move into the first steps of the routine, you feel the warmth of the spotlight on your face. The audience fades into the background, and all that exists is the dance. You and Victoria move in perfect harmony, the countless hours of practice evident in your synchronized movements. Your hands find her waist, lifting her into the air with practiced ease. As you lift Victoria into the air, her form light and graceful, the audience gasps in awe. The spotlight glimmers off her sparkly tutu, casting shimmering reflections across the stage. The energy of your fellow dancers surrounds you, creating a powerful synergy that fills the stage.

With each leap, you feel like you’re flying, the exhilaration of the performance pushing you to new heights. Victoria matches your intensity, her face a picture of concentration and grace. The audience is captivated, their eyes following your every move, their applause growing louder with each passing moment.

As the final notes of the music play, you and Victoria come together for the concluding pose. You lift her once more, her body arching gracefully in the air before you set her down gently. You both hold the final position, breathing heavily but smiling, the audience’s applause roaring in your ears.

Your eyes trace the audience as you're held in your final pose. You take in the awed faces of the crowd, their clapping hands and their cheers. Then, you finally see it.

Damian and Jon, sitting among the crowd. Damian you get, but damn, when did you tell Jon about the show? Did Damian tell him? Damian sits comfortably in his chair, eyes half lidded with his hand over his mouth. Jon is leaning forward, eyes wide and sparkling, mouth agape. You chuckle.

With a final bow, the curtain falls, shadowing you and your fellow dancers. Applause follows you as you’re ushered backstage. Your fellow dancers surround you, their faces flushed with joy and accomplishment.

Victoria rushes over, grinning widely. “We did it!” she squeals, gripping your arms.

You laugh. “Thanks to you!”

The backstage is a flurry of activity, dancers congratulating each other, stagehands bustling about, and the stage manager giving everyone a thumbs-up. You take a moment to catch your breath, leaning against the wall.

Victoria comes to lean next to you. “I saw your friends in the crowd,” she says. “Damian and the blue-eyed boy.”

You nod. “Yeah, I didn’t know they were gonna come.”

She raises a brow, making you furrow yours. “What?” you question. She hums and shakes her head. Fine, she can keep her secrets. 

You glance towards the side entrance where you know Damian and Jon will be waiting. The thought of their presence in the audience fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Damian's cool composure and Jon's wide-eyed enthusiasm are a perfect contrast, and you can't help but smile at the thought of them sitting there, watching you perform.

The bustle backstage starts to calm down as everyone begins to change out of their costumes and pack up their things. You take a moment to stretch and unwind, the adrenaline from the performance still coursing through your veins.

When you finally step out into the lobby, Damian and Jon are waiting for you. Damian is leaning casually against the wall, his usual smirk in place, while Jon is practically bouncing on his heels, excitement radiating from him.

"That was incredible!" Jon exclaims, rushing over to hug you. "I had no idea you were so talented!"

“ I had no idea you were coming!” you explain, arms coming up to wrap around him.

“Of course I had to come,” he leans back and looks at you as if you just insulted his mother. “Damian said he’d gut me if I didn’t, anyway.”

You raise a brow, looking at Damian smugly. Surprisingly, he doesn’t shy away. He steps forward, holding your gaze with twinkling eyes. “You were impressive.” It isn’t much, but it means a lot coming from him. Even more so he said it to your face.

"Thanks, Damian," you say, feeling your face warm. "I'm really glad you both came."

Jon's enthusiasm is infectious, and he starts animatedly recounting his favorite parts of the performance, his eyes wide with admiration. Damian listens with a small smile, occasionally adding his own observations. Jon gasps suddenly, an idea having come to him.

“Let’s go get dinner!” he suggests, his excitement palpable. You and Damian share a look before you nod, making Damian nod.

“First, I have to say go say bye to everyone, take pictures, you know how it is,” you say. They nod and hold your stuff as you scurry back to everyone else. Hugs are shared and pictures are taken. You make sure to get in a couple of selfies with Victoria. Hurrying back to your boys, you find them waiting by the exit.

Cold air encompasses your trio. Damian and Jon seem unfazed, their excitement warming them against the chill. You start walking down the street, the city lights casting a warm glow on the pavement.

“So, where to?” you ask, turning to Damian.

“You ask me?”

“Well, you’re paying aren’t you?” you grin. “So you should choose.”

Jon chuckles as Damian scoffs, but doesn’t refute. 

“Why not go to Batburger?” Jon asks, smirking at Damian over your shoulder. You laugh as a look of offense crawls onto Damian’s face. “It’s a classic.”

Damian sighs dramatically, then his expression shifts to a more serious one. “I was thinking we could try that new Italian place that just opened up downtown. I hear they have an excellent menu."

Jon shrugs, a mischievous glint still in his eye. "Fine, but next time, it's Batburger."

"Deal," you laugh.

You’re driven to the restaurant, courtesy of Alfred. The energy from the performance still buzzes inside you, and the presence of your friends makes the night feel even more special. As you approach the restaurant, you can see the warm glow of the lights inside, casting a cozy ambiance. The hostess greets you with a smile and leads you to a table near the window, where you can watch the bustling city outside.

Settling into your seats, you glance around at the elegant decor. The restaurant is filled with soft music and the murmur of conversation, creating a relaxing atmosphere. The menu is impressive, filled with a variety of mouth-watering dishes.

“Really fancy,” you comment. “I feel out of place.” Jon nods in agreement, while Damian scoffs.

“Please, this is subpar.” You and Jon share a fond look over Damian’s antics.

As you peruse the menu, Jon begins to gush about the performance again. "Seriously, you were amazing! I can't believe you kept this talent hidden from us."

You laugh, feeling a bit shy from all the praise. "It wasn't really hidden. I just haven't performed in a while."

Damian looks at you thoughtfully. "It's a shame. You should do it more often."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you smile, feeling a warm glow inside. "Maybe I will."

The waiter arrives, and you all place your orders. The conversation flows easily as you wait for your food, the excitement of the evening keeping the energy high. 

“What got you into ballet?” asks Jon.

You can’t say that Aunt May and Uncle Ben enrolled you as a distraction from your parent’s death and to provide an outlet for your grief. “My dad enrolled me in some classes when I was a kid. He saw me getting… restless and said it was a good outlet for me. After that I also did a bunch of stuff on the side, like gymnastics and sports.”

Jon nods, his eyes wide with interest. "That makes sense. You really looked like you were born to dance."

Damian adds, "It's clear you have a natural talent. And you put in the work. That's a powerful combination." You smile, appreciating their words.

Then, Jon surprises you by saying, “I really like your smile.”

You blink, caught off guard by his bluntness. Sparing a look at Damian, you see that he’s staring at Jon. “Thank you,” you say, for lack of anything better to say.

Jon leans forward, his eyes earnest. "No, really. It's infectious. Every time you smile, it lights up the room."

You feel your cheeks warm, surprised yet flattered by Jon's compliment. Damian clears his throat, a subtle hint of amusement in his expression. "Jon's right," he says, his tone casual yet sincere. "Your smile is... captivating." Geez, where is all this coming from?

You chuckle softly, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth at their compliments. "Thanks, both of you. I appreciate that."

Jon grins broadly, clearly pleased with himself for flustering you. "It's true! You should smile more often."

The conversation shifts as your food arrives, and you all dig into your meals, enjoying the delicious flavors and the lively banter. The restaurant buzzes with activity around you, but your table feels like its own little bubble of warmth. Jon tries to recreate one of your dance moves from his seat, almost knocking over his drink, which sends you into a fit of laughter.

Dinner passes, and you all part ways as you head home. You smile at the picture you took at the diner, turning off your phone and changing into your suit for patrol.

On the last Friday before winter break, you and Damian stand before the class, ready to deliver your "Hot Takes" presentation. The room buzzes with anticipation as Ms. Varley introduces you both, her gaze sharp and expectant.

You take a deep breath, feeling Damian's steady presence beside you. Together, you launch into a compelling exploration of Batman's motivations, ethics, and impact on Gotham City. You start by outlining Batman's complex actions. Damian chimes in seamlessly, adding insights into Batman's methods and how they reflect a darker, more pragmatic view of crime-fighting.

The class listens intently, some nodding in agreement while others raise thoughtful questions. You and Damian feed off each other's energy, seamlessly transitioning between points and elaborating on each other's ideas. Your presentation is well-received, eliciting nods of approval and engaged murmurs from your classmates. As you near the conclusion, Damian takes the lead in summarizing your arguments, weaving together the threads of your discussion into a cohesive whole.

By the end of your presentation, you feel a sense of accomplishment wash over you. As you pack up your things and prepare to leave for winter break, Ms. Varley offers a nod of approval, clearly impressed by your thorough analysis and presentation skills. You and Damian exchange a satisfied glance, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done. The two of you walk out, meeting the snow falling on your cheeks outside.

"Well done," Damian says, his voice low but genuine. "You held your ground well."

"Thanks," you reply, feeling a surge of pride at his compliment. "You were great too.”

Damian nods, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "It's a topic I'm familiar with."

"So, any big plans for winter break?" you ask as you walk through the snow-dusted grounds.

Damian shrugs. “I plan to refine my art skills. Nothing much.”

“Sounds like you,” you hum. “Well, I’ll be working. Unless, of course…” you pause, looking at Damian, “...you want to marry me and be my rich husband?”

Damian stops in his tracks, his brow furrowing slightly as he looks at you, processing your playful remark. His lips twitch, almost imperceptibly, hinting at amusement. “Are you proposing?”

You lock your hands behind you back, rocking on your feet cheekily. “And if I am?”

Damian's expression shifts, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he considers your playful challenge. His gaze meets yours, intense and calculating as always, yet softened by a glimmer of something warmer beneath the surface.

"Well," he begins, his voice steady, "marriage is a serious commitment, not to be taken lightly."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Of course, Damian. I'm sure you've thought deeply about it."

His lips twitch again, a bit more pronounced this time. "Indeed. And what would I gain from such a union?"

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to maintain your composure despite the hint of nerves creeping in. "Well, my sparkling wit, unparalleled charm, and the pleasure of my company, obviously."

Damian lets out a quiet chuckle, the sound surprising yet strangely pleasing to your ears. "And in return?"

You pause for a moment, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in your eye. "Well your money is all I care about, but…” your finger traces his jaw, feeling it twitch under your touch, “...I guess your looks are a nice bonus.”

Damian's eyebrow quirks up at your teasing response, a mix of amusement and something else flickering in his eyes. His gaze holds yours, a silent challenge echoing in the air between you. You feel a thrill of exhilaration mingled with nerves, unsure of where this playful banter might lead.

"You certainly have a way with words," he finally says, his voice low and measured. "But I'm afraid flattery alone won't sway me."

You tilt your head, meeting his gaze with a playful smile. "Oh? What will then?"

He steps closer, his presence commanding and strangely inviting. "Actions speak louder than words," he murmurs, his breath brushing against your cheek.

"I believe in thorough consideration," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But some decisions are best made in the moment."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to maintain a playful tone despite the flutter in your chest. "And what kind of action are you looking for?"

Damian's eyes never leave yours, his pupils dilating slightly as he takes another step closer. "Perhaps a demonstration of your commitment," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You breathe, smile twitching as you look down. Huffing a laugh out, you pat his cheek. “You’re good, Dami.”

His brow twitches, looking at you as you distance yourself. You spare him a glance over your shoulder. “No need to give me a ride, It’ll do me good to stretch my legs.”

As you walk through the snow-covered grounds, you can't help but think about Damian's words. "Actions speak louder than words." What did he mean by that? Was he hinting at something more?

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself. You're getting ahead of yourself. It was just a playful conversation, nothing more. You should remember your task.

Gar greets you as you step into the cafe. He’s been doing a lot better. He’s got a new apartment and picked up a second job. Things seem to be looking up for him. Carrie says the cafe always looks good in the winter. You think any cafe looks better in the winter, really. Something about the snow gives the place a cozy, aesthetic vibe.

The cafe looks busy today. Several people are stretched across the area, each of them in their own world. You make your way to the back, seeing Sam organizing some shelves.

“How’d it go?” they grunt, balancing some trays.

You help steady their load. “Good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah. I think the teacher was impressed,” you say.

“I know that’s right,” they grin, poking your forehead. “You’re the smarted person I know.”

You shrug modestly. “Damian helped.” Sam scoffs, but says nothing further.

As the afternoon rolls on, the cafe fills with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods. You move through your tasks, enjoying the rhythm of work. The holiday season has brought a cheerful energy to the place, with twinkling lights and festive decorations adding to the cozy atmosphere.

During a brief lull in customers, you take a moment to sip on a hot chocolate, savoring the warmth. A man walks in, shrouded in a thick jacket. His head is down, his face covered by his hoodie and cap.

danger

Your fingers tense. “Sam? Can you go get my phone from the back? I think I left it on one of the shelves.” Carrie and Gar are back there too. As long as you're the only one the guy will threaten, it’s fine. Sam nods and goes to the back without questions. Good.

You put on your best smile as the guy approaches the counter. “Hello, sir. How can I–”

You don’t even get a chance to finish your greeting before the guy raises his arm, gun in hand, and shoots two bullets at the ceiling.

The sound of the gunshots reverberates through the cafe, sending a jolt of fear through the air. The customers scream and duck under tables, seeking cover. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you keep your composure, knowing you need to stay calm and think clearly.

The man's face remains obscured by his hoodie and cap, but you can see the glint of determination in his eyes. His gun is pointed at you now, and you raise your hands slowly, trying to appear non-threatening.

"Empty the register," he demands, his voice rough and desperate.

“A cafe, sir? I’m sure you’ll find a better score somewhere else?” you ease.

“I’ve alerted the authorities of the situation. I’ve also sent an anonymous tip to the Batcomputer.” Thank you, Karen.

The man's grip on the gun tightens, and his eyes narrow as he registers your calm demeanor. "Just do it. I don't have time for this."

You nod slowly, moving towards the register with deliberate, unhurried steps. "Alright, I'm opening it now," you say, keeping your tone even and composed. The register dings as it opens, and you start pulling out the bills, placing them on the counter.

As you work, you discreetly glance around, assessing the situation. The customers are still hiding, some peeking out cautiously. You catch a glimpse of movement from the corner of your eye. Sam, Gar, and Carrie are peeking from the back, their eyes wide with fear and concern (except for Gar, he just looks pissed). You subtly shake your head, signaling them to stay hidden and safe.

“Nobody better fucking move or call anybody!” the robber yells, whipping his gun around. People whimper and cower, shaking.

You move methodically, placing the bills on the counter one by one, keeping the robber's attention focused on you. Your mind races, calculating the distance between you and him, and the timing required to make your move.

"Please, just stay calm," you say, your voice steady despite the tension in the air. "I'm almost done."

As you place the last bill on the counter, you see an opportunity. The robber's attention shifts momentarily to the pile of cash, his grip on the gun loosening slightly.

With a swift, practiced motion, you lunge forward, aiming to disarm him. The robber reacts quickly, pulling the trigger just as you reach him.

 gun gungungun MOVE

 The gunshot echoes in the confined space, and you feel a sharp, searing pain in your side.

You hiss in pain. FUCK. It’s been too long since you’ve gotten seriously hurt. Your senses couldn’t move you out of the way, you were too close. Your senses are going haywire, they aren’t sure what to do at the moment. There's that familiar poking feeling in your gums. Your body leaps over the counter, tackling the man to the floor. Your fangs fully unsheath and you make sure that the struggle blocks what you're doing from view.

You yank his arm to the side, grabbing the gun out of hand as your teeth sink into his wrist. Your venom pumps into his body. The robber yelps at the pain, before his body gradually stops struggling, slumping.

Paralyzing venom, Miguel had deduced, like his. 

You push him away, standing up, wiping away the blood and hot pink liquid around your mouth. You clutch your side where the bullet hit. The pain is intense, but you force yourself to stay focused. The robber lies on the floor, paralyzed and unable to move (not permanently, of course).

You take deep breaths, trying to slow down your heart in order to slow down the blood. The cafe is in chaos, with customers wailing and crying. You look down at the gun in your hands, unloading it and throwing the mag somewhere. Sam, Garrett, and Carrie rush out from the back, their faces filled with shock.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" Sam asks, rushing to your side.

“Shit, kid. That was stupid,” scolds Garrent, putting pressure on the wound. Carrie quickly takes charge, calling the police and trying to calm down the customers. There’s a sudden rush of wind, sending napkins flying and causing yelps from customers.

Jon, no, Superboy is in the entryway of the cafe. He’s hovering slightly, cape billowing in the wind. His eyes are wide, looking straight at you. There’s an arm wrapped around his shoulder. Is that… Robin? Robin, hanging off of Superboy's shoulder. Wait, no, he’s hopped off of him, now he’s walking… oh, he’s right in front of you.

“I’ll take it from here.” His voice leaves no room for argument. He crowds you into his arms, leaning you against him. His hand presses into your wound, eliciting a grunt from you. He shushes you softly.

Police cars skirt to a stop outside. Officers rush inside, quickly getting the robber in cuffs. The hustle and bustle distract you from the pain momentarily. Superboy rushes over to you two.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” he mutters, hands finding your face.

“No,” you and Robin say at the same time. You blink at him.

“What?” Superboy growled.

“I don’t trust them to deal with this,” is all Robin says. The reason you didn’t want to go to a hospital was because one, you have no type of insurance whatsoever and two, your physiology is not exactly normal. Ah shit, your vision is getting spotty.

You take a deep breath, trying to stay focused despite the pain and the spotty vision. "I can handle it," you say, trying to sound confident.

“No, you can’t,” scold Robin and Superboy in sync. Superboy scoops you up in his arms, looking at Robin. “Your choice,” he says.

Robin looks at you, snuggled in Superboy's arms. You're blinking slowly, vision getting blurry. He looks down at gloves, covered with your blood. It’s quiet while he thinks, the loud chatter of the scene fading away. Then, he nods.

“The cave.”

It’s the last thing you hear before your vision fades completely.

notes: man what is it with my readers and getting shot by an asshole robbing a cafe of all places LOL

Y/N: Levi, it’s 4am- Why are you baking a cake? And what’s with the party banners and sweets?

Levi: I’m celebrating the death of my sleep schedule, want a cookie?

orpheus and eurydice

I'm not trying to die

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

That shit hurted

everythingoes | kth & jjk

Summary: He is all the things you feel when fireworks light up the night sky. But everything is temporary and everything goes, just like those very same fireworks.

Pairing: Fuckboy!Taehyung x Reader; Jungkook x Reader

Genre: ANGST, so much fucking angst, smut, (barely there) fluff

Word Count: 24k

Warnings: cheating, sweet taehyung being a dick (I’m sorry tiger cub, I love you), a toxic relationship, possessive Taehyung, sex while semi-intoxicated (they can still consent), oral (fem and male receiving), panty play? I think, taehyung with a monster schlong, deep throating, face fucking, dirty talk, breast play, very slight cock/body worship, face sitting/riding, squirting, cum eating, riding, taehyung having a crazy amount of stamina, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, spanking, forced orgasm, creampie, slight breeding kink

A/N: Highkey, I was listening to mono when I came up with this plot and then when I was typing a certain scene. I wonder if you can guess exactly what scene that is lmao. In other news, this AU fried my last remaining brain cell and honestly I just want to rest for three years. My fingers are practically number from typing. UNEDITED because I’m DONE with it (for now). I’ll edit when my brain cells regenerate

Keep reading

Im just hoping for a new phone-

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

🏐 Haikyuu!! lockscreens

☽ please, like or reblog if you save

A queen

May Cash Gabby bring you all the blessings you deserve this year.