#None of my thoughts are nearly coherent enough to be put into actual words

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Everything about this frame is absolute artistry and I'm not taking any criticism on the matter.

[whumping-in-the-wings]

Well, I certainly didn’t intend for this piece to take quite as long as it did, but the Head Cold from Hell came back with a vengeance, and I sort of strung this together in between naps and bowls of chicken noodle soup. Which unfortunately means it’s A) not as good as I’d like and B) not as whumpy as I was initially planning, because I want to make sure I’m actually semi-coherent when we actually get to The Good Stuff. But I’m still pretty proud of how this piece turned out (and, on the bright side, it introduces both our eventual caretaker and the single most screwed-up, godawful disaster of a friendship I have ever put into words. So that’s fun!) The next piece is already mostly planned, and should be a lot better quality now that I can actually breathe out of both my nostrils.

CW: mentions of blood/injury, restraints, dehumanization, emotional whump, brief medieval medicine stuff, whumpee POV

Taglist: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @finaldreams1106, @redwingedwhump (as always, let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the list!)

Traces: Part Three

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By the time they made it as far as the subtle slope of land that led to the manor, Adair was very nearly reduced to what his captors supposed him to be. Their words turned into mere collections of sounds, passing over him with no more meaning than the gray autumn clouds far above. Even keeping his own thoughts together was more than he could manage; the only things that registered were the ones that were more feeling than thought, the ones that even the horses would have understood had they been in his place. The things you didn’t have to be human to feel.

Pain. Hot pain, clashing against the numb cold of all the blood he’d lost. The ropes, chafing at him, stealing the usual sureness from his feet until every move he made was more uncertain than the last. Exhaustion, worse than he had ever felt before, sore and searing and bone-deep, piercing every fiber of his body.

There were other things he should be feeling. Human things. Somewhere in his fogged mind, he knew that. The loss of the only life he had ever lived, the danger he was in and the need to keep the others out of it. But all that, for the moment, was beyond him, and there was little he could do but take whatever came and hope, afterwards, that he could pull himself together well enough to face whatever came next.

What came next, it turned out, was the hands. He felt them, too, like he did the pain in his leg, but somehow they were worse. Pain, at least, left him a little of his pride, but there was none of that to be found in how the hands poked and prodded at him. It seemed that the rest of the manor’s residents had come out to welcome their lord and his hunting party home and see his newly-taken prize for themselves, and there were too many, far too many to shy away from the way he had on the trail. They surrounded him, squeezing his arm, stroking his coat, setting their fingers against his shoulder to gauge his height. Between the ropes and the arrow-wound, trying to back up out of their reach hurt too much, and he nearly fell when he tried; this time, when some of their hands closed on his jaw and forced his mouth open, when they leaned in close to peer at his teeth, there was little he could do but let them. And all the time they were discussing him, offering their opinions in those words that no longer seemed like words, and they were close, too close, and he could barely move, felt as though he could barely breathe, and Sir Aubrey sat there on his horse, proud of himself, proud of this, and it was too much, it was all too much-

There was no real reason for the new voice to cut through the cacophony the way it did. It wasn’t a loud voice, or a particularly commanding one- it was, in fact, quite soft and light, but there was something in it that set it apart from the others, that made the others listen. Even Adair, as exhausted as he was and as useless as words had become, felt his ears prick forward towards it.

“Aubrey,” the voice said, “get that poor beast out of that mess before he tries to bolt for it and breaks that leg, and probably several legs that aren’t his while he’s at it.”

As the crowd fell back a little, the owner of the voice was revealed to be a young man leaning casually against the low stone wall, shorter and stockier than Aubrey, with several dark braids gathered into a loose knot at the back of his neck. From the look of him, there seemed no reason why the manor residents should be doing as he said, but they were, all the same, and even Sir Aubrey was smiling his half-smile. “Sterling,” he said. “I didn’t think I was gone long enough for the way of the world to change that much. Do all squires give orders to their knights now?”

“When the knight comes home with a bloody centaur, the squire has the right to say anything he wants,” Sterling retorted easily. “At least until the knight explains what the devil he’s up to now.”

Sir Aubrey shrugged. “Little enough opportunity to be found in a place like this. I could hardly ignore one that walked right into my forest.”

“And what do you suppose Cyra’s going to say when she finds your opportunity in her stable?”

“She can say anything she wants. I’m the lord of the manor, aren’t I?”

“But not of the stable. That’s Cyra’s domain. Although, given the way you smell, I suppose it’s an honest enough mistake-“

The conversation went on, but Adair could no longer comprehend it. It was too jovial, too friendly a conversation, one that didn’t belong alongside the growing horror of his own situation. The crowd had mostly moved back from him now, examining him with their eyes instead of their hands. There was still shame in that; the knowledge that they could look into his eyes and still see no difference between him and the horses made his heart clench painfully in his chest. It likely didn’t help that he was standing here as docilely as the horses were. Something in him warned against that, told him he should fight, he should do something to keep Sir Aubrey’s attention on him. But he couldn’t summon up the will to act on that instinct. Today, at least, he had done as much fighting as he could do, and he would just have to hope that it had been enough to keep any thoughts of his family well out of Sir Aubrey’s mind.

He did try to resist, a little, when they brought him into the rough, thatch-roofed stone building that apparently served as the stable. He’d never had walls around him before, never been closed in by anything more secure than the forest trees, and everything in him rebelled against the prospect. But after all that the day had brought with it, everything in him didn’t prove to be much, and his attempt to break away was pathetic enough that Sir Aubrey only laughed at it, patting Adair’s shoulder in the same way he would have done with his horse or his dogs. Though the touch was gentler than anything else Sir Aubrey had done to him, it was an insult still, and one he had to bite his tongue to keep from answering. He had resolved never to speak to this human until he had absolutely no hope left of ever seeing his family again. So long as there was still a chance that he might find his way back to the others, he would let this man see him as no more than an animal, however hard it was to bear. His human half he would keep hidden, so that, when he rejoined his family, there would still be a part of him that had always been with them, had always been free.

He didn’t bother fighting when Sir Aubrey and one of his men forced him into one of the cramped wooden stalls; it was too much of a relief to finally be allowed to lie down. Even though it was only dry straw beneath him and not the soft grass he was used to, he couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him once his weight was no longer on his injured leg. His hands were kept bound, but the ropes around his ankles were cut loose and replaced with a slightly looser one around his neck, secured just above the stall’s half-door. Soon, he told himself. Soon they’d be finished with him, and they’d leave him for the night, and he’d have a chance to gather his thoughts, come to terms with what had happened and decide how he was going to face whatever happened next.

But, as it turned out, there was one more pair of hands he had to suffer through first.

“Ugh. He sounds almost human when he screams like that.” The younger man, Sterling, made some sort of sign against evil with one hand, and tipped a little more of the strange red liquid over the arrow-wound with the other, eliciting another cry from Adair, pinned beneath him. “Freaks of nature, these are, and for the life of me, Aubrey, I can’t see why you’re bothering with all this. You’re never going to get anything useful out of this wild thing. There’s a reason why everyone else aims arrows for their hearts, not their legs.”

“I’m not everyone else. I want to see if it can be done, and if it can be, I want to make a name for myself doing it. Simple as that.” Sir Aubrey leaned even further over the stall door, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t bother trying to clean that cut on his shoulder. It’s shallow, it should heal well enough. I don’t want him lashing out at you.”

Sterling paused in his work for a moment with an exasperated sigh. “I hope you realize you can’t keep me a squire forever. One of these days, Aubrey, you’re going to have to knight me. And you won’t be able to nursemaid me like this then.”

“I’ve been nursemaiding you since you were an owl-eyed brat with barely enough of a tunic to cover your skinny arse, and I’ll keep doing it long after you’re a knight in armor.”

“Oh, any hell but that!”

For a moment, Adair- able to make sense of their words now that every ounce of his energy was no longer devoted to staying on his feet- wondered why this conversation, which had nothing whatsoever to do with him, was still so painful. Then the realization came. I used to talk to Bracken like that. Light and laughing, without a care in the world, and then Bracken would strike out at him in mock challenge, and they’d be off on a race through the forest or a brief spar that he would always let his brother win-

It wasn’t the memory that hurt, but the knowledge that it was only a memory, now. He turned his head away and forced himself not to listen until Sterling had finished bandaging the wound and they left him there, finally alone.

Then he closed his eyes, hoping the exhaustion he’d been battling for so long would see fit to defeat him now, and replace the agony of the memories with the blackness of the sleep he so desperately needed. But, like every effort he had made today, it was a doomed one. This place unnerved him, to say nothing of its master, and his thoughts, far away with his family, refused to settle themselves. He shifted position often, as best he could between his bonds and his injuries, sometimes jerking at the ropes in the hope of gaining just a little more slack. He forced himself not to think of the others, of what tomorrow might bring, of all the other things that threatened to overwhelm him if he allowed them into his mind. The strangeness of it all was the worst. He was used to the sounds of the forest at night, the presence of the ones he loved around him, the night winds around him and only the stars above. Not this. Not this cold, stone-surrounded silence.

And try as he might, he couldn’t erase the feeling of those many, too many hands. The traces of the touch lingered on his skin like phantoms. However much he tried to shrug them off, they were still there, binding him as securely as the ropes and the walls.

Sleep, when at last it came, was fitful, and full of nightmares only barely worse than the one he was already in.

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 12

Chapter 1     Chapter 11

The dining room was only slightly less formal than the entry way.  It was decorated in deep tones and dark wood meant to evoke grandeur and pageantry. It still spoke of old money and cold families.  There was no evidence of laughter over inside jokes, gasping at stories about someone’s day, discussions of dreams, or fatherly advice doled out over a lovingly cooked dinner that everyone worked on together.

Marinette held back as everyone made their way into the dining room, letting them claim their usual seats, prepared to take whatever seat was left.  She was hoping to cause as little upset and disturbance as possible.  Her plan was foiled when Duke jumped up from his seat and moved down one spot.  “Hey, Marinette.  Take this seat.”  

Marinette opened her mouth to object but stopped when Jason put his hand on her back to guide her to the seat.  “Lost cause.  Don’t even bother,” he muttered low enough for her to hear.  Marinette looked back at him uncertainly but nodded in understanding. She breathed a small sigh of relief when Jason took the other seat next to her.

Dick pouted at the seating, but took the seat across from her instead, grabbing the seat quickly from the right as Tim was just about to drop into it from the left.  Tim grumbled something about annoying puppies and took the next seat over, causing Damian to scowl and redirect himself to a different seat. “Damian!” Dick called out to him. He patted the seat next to him.  

Damian huffed and sent Marinette a glare as he took his not normal seat beside Dick.  He squirmed in the seat.  It wasn’t his usual seat and he could feel the difference.  It felt off.  It felt wrong.  He didn’t like it at all.  This was not his routine.  This was not what he was comfortable with and it was all her fault.  They were playing a charade for her.  They were making themselves uncomfortable for her.

Marinette watched politely as M. Pennyworth set the plates down in front of everyone.  When he was done, he exited quietly.  Marinette watched him leave the room as the rest of the family took bites of their food.  M. Wayne had called M. Pennyworth a father and Jason had called him a grandfather, but he didn’t eat with them?  And addressed them all as Master or Miss?  Did none of them know what family was supposed to be?  What it was supposed to mean?  Because that, wasn’t it.  And honestly, if that’s what they thought it was, she had serious concerns about joining their ‘family’.

She looked back to Jason and tried to send him a message with her eyes to ask him about it without having to say it out loud and draw attention to herself.  She cleared her throat quietly, hoping it was quiet enough that just Jason would hear but everyone looked at her.  She looked at their eyes before returning hers to her plate.  “Sorry,” she said quietly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bruce said kindly.  His eyes were filled with concern and a touch of worry.  He wanted her to eventually feel like this was her home too and if he wanted that to happen, she needed to feel comfortable here.  “Did you need anything?”

“No, no, no,” Marinette insisted, shaking her head and sending him a weak smile.  “It’s nothing.  The dinner looks amazing.”

“If there’s anything you don’t like…” Bruce started.

“No!  Of course not,” Marinette exclaimed.  “This looks really delicious.”  She was waving her hands frantically.  It was all going wrong already.  She was causing a commotion.  From the moment she’d walked into his life, she’d caused nothing but commotion.  She was really hoping to break the cycle tonight and get closer to the kids in the family.

Bruce watched her uncertainly, but nodded.  “Because if you want anything else, we have a huge kitchen and pantry,” Bruce tried to assure her.

Marinette’s eyes grew even bigger and her movements more frantic.  “Jesus, B. Lay off her.  She already said she was fine,” Jason grumbled.  “You’re going to give her a complex.”

Somehow, Marinette’s eyes got wider and her face went slack.  “No, no. It’s fine.”  She turned to Bruce with a desperate look.  “I’m fine.  Thank you for your concern.”

“Marinette,” Bruce stated with a touch of exasperation. He didn’t know what he had to do to get her relax, to get her to believe she wasn’t going to make him not want her. “Just let me know.”

Marinette nodded rapidly.  “Of course.”  She looked around the room taking note of the pasted on, polite smiles while they took silent bites.  She could feel her shoulders curling in on her as the quiet continued.

“How was your day today?” Bruce prompted Marinette after the first few bites in uncomfortable silence.

She nearly dropped her fork in surprise.  “Oh, it was pretty good,” she answered with a polite smile.  And oh God, this was the most awkward thing she had ever done.  She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a breath.  It wasn’t going to change unless she did something to change it.  “I’m glad you had a meeting this morning so we missed out on the Penguin.  I mean sorry about the meeting, but I think it worked out for the best.”

She fought the urge to openly examine the people around the table.  They had all frozen at her mention of the Penguin, but all seemed to be trying to pretend like they hadn’t.  Their smiles became forced.  She wasn’t sure if it brought back bad memories or scared them how close M. Wayne had been to getting taken by the Penguin.  If they had stuck to their original plan, he could have been able to take him.

Bruce chuckled politely, tightly.  “Definitely a better result.  I would still like to go to the art museum with you though.”

“Do you have room for someone else?” Dick asked perking up.  “I’d like to get in on that.  Cass?” He looked over to Cass to see how she felt.  When she nodded excitedly he looked over to Damian.  “Damian would love to go to, right Damian?”  Damian leaned back in his chair and focused on the food, refusing to look at Dick.  “Damian’s in,” Dick enthused.

Tim snorted but realized his mistake as soon as the sound came out.  He looked warily over at Dick who was giving him an overly wide smile.  Tim turned to Marinette with an artificial smile.  “I’d love to.”  Duke shaking his head caught his eyes and he grinned maliciously. “Duke loves the art museum.  We can’t go without him too.”

Duke froze and narrowed his eyes at Tim for a fraction of a second before smiling at Marinette.  “If you don’t mind the company.”

Marinette looked between them.  The only one who seemed to actually be happy about it was Dick. Everyone else seemed like this was the last possible thing they’d ever want to do.  She plastered on a smile, unwilling to be the cause of discord in the family.  “No. Yeah.  That sounds… fun.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at her.  “You’re being insincere,” he accused harshly.

“Damian!” Bruce scolded loudly.  “That was uncalled for.”

Dick looked at him with disappointment. “Damian.  It is not okay to treat a guest… your sister like that,” he added after Bruce finished.

Jason was tense, preparing to step in if Damian said even one more word to Marinette.  He knew she already didn’t feel welcome in Bruce’s life, let alone his home.  He sure as Hell wasn’t going to let Damian solidify that belief.

Marinette stared at Damian wide eyed.  He wasn’t wrong, but she thought everyone kind of understood the reasoning behind it.  It wasn’t ideal, but it was expected.  Not to mention she wasn’t the only one.  She looked around the room and finding varying levels of disappointment, concern for her, and annoyance with Damian.  She looked over at Damian trying to gauge his goal.  

Roy and Jason had warned her that he would try to intimidate her, likely attack her.  And she guessed she should have expected to defend herself.  But again, he wasn’t wrong.  What he was accusing her of; not being entirely honest, she wasn’t.  None of them were.  But when she looked in his eyes, it wasn’t hostility she saw, not completely.  It was confusion, uncertainty, unease, and yes, a fair amount of hostility.  And wasn’t that the issue she was having with them too?  That they didn’t seem to be sincere with her?  But while she curled in, he lashed out.

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted quietly.  The room fell silent again and Damian looked up at her with a confused scowl.  She met Damian’s gaze and gave him a small smile.  “We’re all being varying levels of insincere.  This is an awkward, uncomfortable, scary situation.  For all of us, I imagine.  Again varying levels of that.  Maybe for you and me more than the rest.  You’re the baby and I’m…”  She let it trail off leaving ‘unwanted’ unsaid, hoping they would fill in the sentence with a more palatable adjective.  One she wouldn’t have to discuss with concerned looks and sympathetic smiles.

“You guys don’t want to offend me and I’m trying desperately not to offend you, but we don’t know each other well enough to know how to do that or what we need to do to ease the tension.  We’re trying to figure each other out, so nobody gets hurt. You or me.”  She knew she was rambling but it was honest, coherent rambling at least.  Maybe not completely, but it was the truth.  And Damian was right.  They weren’t being themselves and they weren’t going to get to know each other until they were.  

“I don’t want to expose too much and scare you away or give you the ammunition to really hurt me, if that’s what you’re going to do.  And I imagine you guys are afraid of driving me away by saying the wrong thing.  And how do you know what the wrong thing is until you know someone?  So we’re all on edge.  Not ourselves.  We don’t feel safe to be ourselves yet.  And how can you be sincere when you’re not yourself?”

Cass smiled warmly at her and nodded in agreement. Jason wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.  “Except me. She’s herself around me, so suck it.” He stuck his tongue out at the rest of the family, like the mature, tough, dangerous, vigilante he was.

“Oh my God, Jason.”  Marinette shook her head and dropped it in her hands.  “That’s because I was drunk off my ass and didn’t have the ability to pretend when we met.”

“That’s French for ‘because you’re the best’,” Jason assured them with a completely straight face.

“It definitely isn’t,” Dick rolled his eyes, but his lips were turned up in a smile.  “If you want to talk about him behind his back in front of his face in French, let me know,” Dick winked at her.  “I haven’t gotten to practice my French in a while.”

“It sounds like Jason took advantage of you in a weakened state.  Terrible brother behavior,” Tim insisted.  He shook his head in mock disappointment.  “You deserve better.”

“Who?  You?” Jason squawked, affronted at the suggestion.

“I was going to say Duke, but if I’m the first one that comes to mind when you think of best brother, I mean, I’m not going to argue,” Tim shrugged with a smirk.

“You say Jason is always wrong and you’re always right, so…” Duke added with a grin.  He turned to Marinette.  “Sounds like you and me are going to form an alliance.  New Kids Club.”  He turned his head slightly when Cass made a noise.  “And Cass.”  He smiled when Marinette giggled.

“Let’s not form alliances and cliques or hog Marinette, please?” Bruce asked, the resignation clear in his voice but affection clear in his eyes.

Marinette nodded and turned serious. “Absolutely.  I will not form any kind of pact with Duke and Cass over lunch next week?”  She looked between the two of them for confirmation. Duke and Cass nodded back at her and Marinette grinned.  “Monday?”

“Hey!” Dick objected.

Jason gasped at her and dropped his arm from around her shoulder.  “This feels like a betrayal.  I’m betrayed.”  He shook his head and took a bite of food.  “You’ll fit right in.”

Duke shook his head.  “Can’t Monday.  I have a poetry thing.”

Marinette’s eyes brightened.  “Are you presenting or watching?”

Duke looked down shyly and rubbed the back of his neck.  He hadn’t even told the rest of the family about it.  It didn’t occur to him that they would be interested.  “Presenting actually.”

“Would you mind if I came too?  Or do you not like people you know being there?”

Duke shrugged.  “No, I don’t mind, but…” he cringed slightly, “it isn’t in the best part of town.  It’s kind of dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, I can protect you,” Marinette winked at him.  She ignored Damian’s scoff and Bruce’s choke.

Jason rolled his eyes.  “Don’t worry, I’ll go too.  I’ve never heard the kid read.”

“I’d like to come too,” Dick looked at them hopefully, “if you don’t mind.”

Duke made a noise that sounded like some combination of happy and resigned and nodded.  “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

“You okay with Adrien and Max coming too?” Marinette asked.

“Yeah, bring them.  It’ll be nice to meet them.”  He waved off her concern.  “Okay, that’s fun and all but we still need to decide when to not meet for the New Kids Club.  And I’m not putting that in my nonexistent calendar for,” Duke looked up questioningly, “Thursday lunch?”

Marinette looked over to Cass who nodded excitedly at her.  Marinette smiled back at her and Duke.  “Sounds good.”  She pulled out her phone and handed it to him.  “Want to put your number in so we can coordinate?”

“Absolutely!”  He took her unlocked phone and put his number in.

“Can I put my number in too?” Tim asked

“And me!” Dick exclaimed.  

“Yeah, of course,” Marinette smiled at both of them. A real smile.  Thank God Adrien was right.  She kind of liked the kids… even though most weren’t kids and most of them were actually older than her.  

“Why don’t you put all our numbers in there, Tim,” Dick suggested.

“Tt,” Damian scoffed.  “There’s no reason she would need my number.”

Bruce gave him a disappointed look, but Marinette shrugged.  “Please, don’t put it in if he isn’t comfortable with it.”

Tim pursed his lips.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  What if she finds a cute animal?  How’s she supposed to send you the picture?”  Damian scowled but didn’t say more.  Tim finished and handed the phone back to Marinette.

Marinette took it back with a thank you and scrolled through her contacts.  “Huh… he didn’t put you in,” she assured Damian.

“What?”  Tim looked at her confused then looked at her phone again.  “Oh, it’s under Demon Spawn.”

Marinette gaped at him.  “It’s under what?”

“Dem…”

“Yeah, no,” she cut him off.  She pushed a few buttons and looked back at Damian.  “Not anymore.  It’s gone.  You can give me your number when and if you’re ready.”  Damian didn’t acknowledge her, but he did nod curtly at his plate and Marinette was taking that as a win.  

She tucked her phone away and looked around the room.  “Okay, so, Duke does poetry, I heard Damian does art, and I heard Dick likes to swing, what does everyone else like to do?” Marinette asked with a bright smile.

Jason and Tim burst out laughing.  “Your reputation proceeds you, Lover Boy,” Jason managed to get out between gasps.

Marinette frowned and looked between them in confusion. “Did I say something wrong?”

Dick smiled warmly at her.  He kept his eye contact with her as he threw a roll at Jason’s head.  “Ignore them. Their minds are in the gutter.  For clarification, I like gymnastics.  I was a trapeze artist in a Haley’s Circus when I was a kid.”

“Oh that sounds fun!” Marinette almost squealed in excitement.  “You must have loved flying through the air.  That was always the best feeling.”

“It was.  I loved it.  The freedom of soaring before gravity took over was amazing,” Dick nodded in agreement. His eyes took on a distant look as he talked about it and a smile curled on his lips.  “Did you do trapeze work in Paris?”  Marinette froze momentarily.  “You mentioned you liked the feeling.  Is that how you know it?” he prompted gently.

“Oh… um… no.”  She looked down at the napkin on her lap for a second, pretending to readjust it.  “I was friends with a few of our local heroes.  One of them, Ladybug swung around the city on a yoyo that worked kind of like a magic rope.  That feeling of swinging up and breaking gravity was always heart racing.  And the feeling of falling until the string caught.” She looked away with a smile. “Yeah, I understand what you’re talking about.”

“We have a trapeze in the manor.  Did you want to try it out sometime?” Dick asked excitedly.  

Marinette grinned.  “That sounds like fun.  I’d love to.”

“How about tomorrow?”

Marinette blinked.  The Waynes definitely moved fast.  There was no time to breathe.  Just moving from one thing directly into the next.  She needed time to think, time to process that they apparently didn’t require.  “I can’t. Sorry.”  Dick’s face fell immediately.  If she didn’t have a legitimate excuse, she’d feel guilty.  “I’ll be in New York tomorrow for business and I’m meeting with Lucius Friday.”

“Saturday then,” Dick offered.  Marinette smiled and nodded causing Dick to almost vibrate in his seat.  None of the other siblings ever wanted to go on the trapeze with him and he was beyond excited to connect with Marinette.

“Did they take you around often?” Bruce asked with forced calmness.  “The heroes,” he explained when she scrunched her face in confusion.  “You said they took you around often enough for you to know what it felt like… where Hawkmoth could see.”  Spending time with civilians in suit was dangerous, incredibly so, even more so doing it in full view of the public.  Something like that could have resulted in Marinette getting targeted.  It was irresponsible and negligent.  He should have never trusted the Parisian heroes or Diana that the heroes could handle Paris without him.

“No,” Marinette said as nonchalantly as she could manage, trying to pretend like she didn’t notice the tightness in his voice. “They rescued me a few times and once things were resolved they would sometimes take people who had gotten caught up in the attacks for short rides like that to bring up morality.  To make them feel better.  It wasn’t unusual or noteworthy, just a public service.”

Bruce relaxed minutely, but the tension in his frame was still clear.  Marinette watched him carefully, trying to gauge if she’d used the right words to calm him.  She could feel her body tensing at exponential rates the longer he was silent, the longer it took him to relax or smile.  Marinette looked down at her plate and pushed her food around with tight lips.

“I like unsolved mysteries,” Tim threw in.  Eyes around the table turned to him, most of them incredulous and tense that he would take the conversation there.  She heard a whispered “Dude,” from somewhere around the table.

Marinette let out the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding and started laughing.  The eyes that had been on Tim turned to her, making her laugh even harder at the awkwardness of it until another voice joined hers in laughter, followed by another, until most of the table was at least chuckling.  

“My best friend gets into that too,” Marinette nodded with a grateful smile.  She narrowed her eyes playfully at him.  “Do you end up in all night benders following the trail of a mystery down incalculable rabbit holes until you get crazed and someone has to come and force you to sleep too?”

Tim looked shocked and slowly looked around the room before returning his gaze to Marinette.  “No,” he said tentatively.

“Yes,” Cass, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Bruce all chorused at the same time.

“Oooohhh, remind me some time to talk about the Impossible Murder,” Marinette offered.  Her eyes lit up with excitement.  Unsolved mysteries and conspiracy theories she could do.  This was her comfort zone.  Not that she got into it, but years with Alya had taught her the rhythm of inquiry and questions.  She took comfort in that rhythm.  It was something familiar she could lean into.

“Yes!” Tim exclaimed, an inquisitive glint in his eyes.

“No,” Cass, Dick, Jason, Duke, and Bruce all chorused at the same time.

Marinette giggled and winked at Tim.  “We’ll talk later,” she stage whispered to him.  She grinned at the groans she heard around the table.  

Tim turned to Duke and stuck his tongue out at him. “Sounds like we get our own club, just for Marinette and me.  The Investigator’s Club.”

Jason scoffed and took a bite.  “Like I’d want to be part of a club with that name.”

Cass cleared her throat lightly, drawing some attention to her.  “And Cass,” Tim amended.  Cass nodded happily.

“How about you, Cass?”

“Ballet,” Cass answered with a smile.

“Oh, I wish I could do ballet.  Are you in a class or do you do it on your own?  Or are you a professional?”  Marinette asked trying to keep her voice from getting too excited or invested.  Bruce had mentioned she didn’t talk a lot and Marinette didn’t want to pressure her to talk if she didn’t want to, but she also didn’t want to make her feel like she was ignoring her.

“Fun.”

Marinette nodded.  “I bet it’s a nice way to relax.”

“Not as good as shooting guns though,” Jason grinned. “Or blowing things up.”

Bruce sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. “Jason…” he started, not even bothering to try to finish the sentence.

Marinette blinked a few times then nodded.  “Uh huh.  I like sewing,” she responded dryly.  Jason laughed and shook his head at her.  He took a bite of his food and looked back at her appraisingly, a happy glint in his eye.

“Right, B mentioned you’re a designer.  Just graduated right?” Dick prompted.

“Yes.  My final project was a few weeks ago.  Now I’m figuring out my next steps.”

“Is that related to your trip to New York?” Duke asked.

Marinette nodded and swallowed the bite she’d just taken. “I’m meeting a few friends and someone at Style Queen to talk about styling a shoot.  And Adrien has a job interview.”  She took a quick bite of her dinner before continuing.  “We’re also trying to get a feel for New York, see if that’s somewhere we would want to move.”

“Wow, Style Queen is really big!” Duke nodded. “That’s awesome!”

Marinette smiled at him.  “Getting on her good side is definitely good for your career. Luckily, I’ve been able to impress her over the years.”

“Along those lines,” Bruce cut in, “I’ve commissioned her to create clothes for us.  We were planning on her coming over to start on Tuesday, so I expect everyone to be here for it.”

Dick beamed at her but Damian grunted loud enough for everyone to hear.  He had absolutely no interest in wearing something purely because ‘his sister’ designed it.  He had a style and level of craft he required in the clothes he wore and he was not about to sit or stand around uncomfortably all day long purely out of some misplaced obligation.

He narrowed his eyes at Marinette.  It still didn’t make sense.  Why would she have come to Gotham if she was looking to break into fashion?  She had to have had an ulterior motive.  “So you just happened to consider Gotham as a place to reconsider?”

Marinette cocked her head to the side.  “No…” she scrunched her face in a bit of confusion. “I never even considered it. Gotham was a side trip.  I had no intention of staying past earlier this week. But things… changed,” she looked around sheepishly before looking back at him.  “I was considering New York or Metropolis in America.  Also Shanghai, I have family there; London, Adrien has family there; Milan, my… grandmother grew up there.”

“Is Adrien your boyfriend?” Tim asked.

“No.  My... brother,” her voice petered out as she called the word and she looked down guiltily.

“Will he be part of your business?” Bruce asked, pretending like he hadn’t registered her discomfort, hoping that if they moved past it, she would too.

“Yes. No. Maybe.” Marinette grimaced as she went through all the options.    She shrugged.  “Whatever he wants.  He wasn’t allowed to make choices growing up so now that his father,” she spit the word out with disgust, “is gone, I’m going to let him decide his next move. He wants to help, but he’s looking for a teaching job.  He’s thinking of doing both for a while.  I’m hoping I can convince him it’ll be okay for him to focus on him.  It isn’t ‘abandoning’ me if he does.

“But, that's what's taking so long.  I can work from almost anywhere.  I’d prefer to be near a big city, but really, it isn’t necessary. It’s harder to find a place he'd like to teach and we want to live.”

“If he isn't part of your business...” Dick started, trying to figure out her motivation.

“We come as a set,” she said definitively and took a bite, staring him down as if daring him to challenge her.  “He’s my emotional support grimalkin.”

“Will your future romantic partner, if you want one, be okay with that?” Damian demanded.

Marinette shrugged.  She could feel Jason tensing next to her at Damian’s tone, but she wasn’t too bothered by it.  “They will be or they won't be.”

“Those are the options, yes,” Damian deadpanned.

“Demon Spawn…” Jason hissed.

“I meant,” Marinette cut in before Jason could continue the fight he wanted to start, “they will be okay with it or they won't be my romantic partner.  Adrien and I have been through a lot.  We feel safest when the other is near, at least close enough to come running if there’s a problem.  If someone can’t understand that about me, then I don’t need them in my life.”

Bruce nodded and gave her an understanding smile. “We should invite him next time.”

Marinette nodded in agreement.  “He’d love that.  He’s dying to meet you all.”

Bruce took another bite before coming up with an idea.  “If he’s thinking of being part of your business anyway, why don’t you bring him with you when you do the commission?  We can have a family dinner afterword.”

“That’s a great idea.  I’ll check with him,” Marinette nodded.  “And apparently, as long as he doesn’t talk about pineapples with you guys,” she gave Jason a pointed look, “it should be fine.”

Tim groaned.  “No.  No! I’m not having this conversation again.” He glared at Dick.  “Pineapple is the most disgusting topping to put on a pizza.”

Dick gasped dramatically.  “You take that back!”

“It’s worse than sardines,” Tim hissed.  “It’s an abomination.  It’s an insult to pizzas.”

“How dare you!  Pineapple is amazing.  It adds a sweetness that perfectly contrasts the saltiness you get from other ingredients!” Dick defended.

Marinette blinked a few times as Dick continued to sing the praises of pineapple on pizza before she leaned over and whispered to Jason.  “You weren’t joking.”

“Nope,” he said popping the p.  “Told you it always finds a way to come up.”

“It came up because you mentioned it,” Marinette deadpanned.  “Literally you’re the reason it came up.”

He shook his head as if he didn’t hear her.  “It always finds a way.  It’s like sorcery.”

Chapter 13

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver @aespades @prettylittlebutterflie @imarivers8  @ certainmuffinbagelcalzone @ritacrow-blog @unoriginalmess @demonicbusiness @kking13 @lady-bee-fechin @blur-of-colours @kittenmywaythrulife @kashlyn @loysydark

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 1: Rimming

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,560

Warnings: Rimming, anal sex, some vaginal fingering, himbo Ben (mild unintentional hypnosis I guess)

A/N: Welcome to Kinktober! This is actually an idea i’ve been thinking about for quite a while. We’ve done himbo Rog and himbo Gwil so it only seemed fair to do himbo Ben and since he’s obviously an ass man......only made sense that he’d be into anal lmao. It seemed like the perfect fit for the first of these prompts. But this is the first time I’ve written (or even really thought about) rimming so I hope it’s okay!

“Geeze Ben, could you maybe close your porn next time. Didn’t really expect to see that autoplay when I woke the computer up this morning,”  Ben snorted into his plate of eggs, “Which one was it?”  “Something called Anal Punisher 3.”  “Don’t know what you’re complaining about, that’s a good one.” His eyes twinkled teasingly and he poked his tongue out as you sat in front of your own plate.  “I’m sure it is.” You chuckled, able to see the funny side now that you weren’t staring directly at close up of a porn stars arsehole, “Just not when I’m trying to check my emails on our shared desktop.”   “As if you’ve never had a cheeky wank at that computer.”  “That’s what I have a laptop for,” You laughed again, shaking your head.  “Alright, fair play. I only left it up cause you got home early last night and I had to, um, clean up.”  You rolled your eyes at the flimsy excuse.  “And if you don’t want me watching Anal Punisher 3 then maybe you should let me punish your anal....arse....fuck, you know what I mean.”  It was your turn to snort into your breakfast, Ben’s clumsy attempt at seduction nearly making you inhale the scrambled eggs. When you finally got yourself under control you said, “I don’t care if you watch it, just shut it down when you’re finished.”   “Sorry love,”  “But  y’know, if you did want to anal arse fuck me tonight I wouldn’t say no.”  Ben’s eyes lit up in excitement. He’d either not heard the joke you’d made at his expense or decided it wasn’t worth bringing up if the possibility of anal was on the table, “Serious?”  “Serious. I’ll even put my plug in when I get dressed so we don’t have to spend as much time on foreplay.”  “If I hadn’t already married you, I’d propose on the spot.” 

But by the time Ben got home he seemed more interested in just cuddling on the couch. You’d done as you said you would and worn your plug all day, constantly thinking about what would happen later that night. Right up until Ben stepped inside yawning, when you snuck off to the bathroom to remove it, realising your plans were unlikely to go ahead. You’d half expected him to fall asleep on the couch after dinner but evidently, some part of him still wanted you. He tapped his thigh and beckoned you towards him, pulling you down so he could hold you close and kiss your shoulder. Soon enough that cuddling had turned to making out, you straddling his lap as you kissed him deeply, his large hands pulling you into him, stroking whatever bare skin he could find. Without thinking you dragged your fingers through his hair. He hummed in response so you did it again, your fingers creating small, firm circles against his scalp, drawing random patterns there as you focused on keeping your lips on his and your tongues entwined. Ben made soft pleased sounds as your fingers kept up their movement, almost moaning at the sensation. You could feel him getting harder under you as you carefully rocked your hips.   “Benny?”  “Huh?”  His hands had begun to roam more, moving down to your arse, grabbing and squeezing as he pulled you against him.  “Kinda got me excited here honey. Might wanna stop if you’re too tired to carry through,”  “What?”   He seemed nearly dazed, not properly comprehending what you were saying.   You shifted your hand to his chest, drawing small circles with your finger, “I mean I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day anyway.”  “Think?”  “Exactly, thinking about our conversation this morning. Remember? Anal Punisher 3?”  “Anal?” It was still a question but there was a tone of excitement behind the dopey confusion.  “You said you wanted to.... I kinda really want you to.”  “Mmmm,”  “I mean I get it if you’re too tired,” you said softly, stroking your palms over his biceps, “but I’m up for it now if you are. So, do you still want to?”  “Mmhmm,” but as keen as he sounded, Ben didn’t seem inclined to move to the bedroom or even to begin to undress you. He was too caught up in feeling you up and trying to kiss you again.   “Don’t you want me Benny?”  He was slow to react, eyes still shut as he nodded, speech flowing like treacle “Want - you.”  “You can have me.” You had to lean back to stop him from kissing you again. As much as you liked making out, you were getting eager for more and wanted to know where he was at.  He nodded again, not seeming to hear you, and then, when he couldn’t immediately locate your lips again, opened his eyes.   It reminded you of the time a few friends had dragged you and Ben to a hypnotists show. None of your group had been pulled on stage to experience the hypnotic powers the man claimed to have, but those who had been had all worn similar expressions to Ben. Eyes heavy lidded and almost glazed over and when they’d gone back to their seats you’d noticed that they seemed a bit dazed and confused. You’d not seen Ben look like that before. Well, maybe a bit dazed after you gave him a proper good blow job, but nothing to this extent. Not even when you edged him repeatedly. He tended to get whiny and loud rather than glassy eyed and dopey. Usually more talkative too, begging or moaning your name. This was something new.  

Curiously, you stoked his hair back off his face and asked him how he felt, tugging lightly on the ends that reached the back of his neck.  “Good,” he sighed softly, “Kiss?”  You couldn’t deny him that when he’d asked so cutely, so you leaned in to kiss him again, letting him draw you in deeply for a moment. When the chance arose you let your lips slip from his, kissing along his jaw until you reached his ear, “What else do you want?”  Ben hummed softly and then said, “Arse.”  It was unusual for Ben to be so monosyllabic. Even when he was super horny and desperate for you, he could generally get most of a coherent sentence out. Nothing that would win any literary awards of course, but enough so you knew what he meant.  “What do you mean Benny?”  “Ummm....arse.....cock.”  It sounded like it had been a struggle for him to even think of the two words he wanted but you couldn’t help but giggle, “Does that mean you want to fuck me?”  “Yeah,”  “Okay baby. But you have to do everything I say, understand?”  Ben nodded.  “Can you do what I say Benny? Be a good boy and follow my instructions?”  He nodded again, “Yes. Please.”  You kissed him once more, trying not to laugh too much, and then scooted off his lap.  Ben whined as soon as the physical contact was broken.  “If you want my arse we gotta move to the bedroom,”  He frowned as if he didn’t quite understand but let you take his hand all the same and followed you to the bedroom. 

Ben’s hands began to wander again when you stopped to open your bedroom door, grasping your hips and then dropping lower to rest against your behind.   It was hard to ignore the tingle the light contact sent through you but you bit down on your rising need as you turned and grasped Ben’s hands, “Gotta wait for that Benny. Just a little longer.” You stepped back towards the bed and Ben smiled dopily as you pulled him along. “I mean I’m ready but not all the way. But if you help get me lubed up you can fuck my arse for as long as you want.”  It was like a light turned on inside Ben’s mind. His eyes still had that unfocused look but they were wider and he was nodding enthusiastically.  “You gonna undress me or should I start for you?” You laughed and when he didn’t immediately move you began pulling your shirt off over your head, too eager to wait. You reached behind you to unclasp your bra, “C’mon Benny. Help me out.”  Ben blinked twice before he seemed to understand but was soon offering his help, pulling the bra from your arms, gently cupping your breasts as he revealed them, thumbs falling into a familiar rhythm rubbing back and forth over your nipples. Still moving slowly, Ben leaned in and kissed your throat, humming in response as you pressed your chest into his hands and sighed contentedly. But he clearly had something else on his mind because soon enough his hands fell, fingers picking at the waistband of your leggings. Indulging him you quickly shed your pants, turning so he could see the thing he really wanted as you stripped off the final layer of clothing. Ben watched intently as you wiggled your hips teasingly and eked the waistband of your knickers down a few inches. And then something changed. 

You felt it in the air, a shift in energy, but even that wasn’t enough to prepare you as Ben growled and lunged forward, his hands tight on your waist as he lifted you onto the bed, barely giving you time to settle on your hands and knees before he dived in behind you.   All you could manage was to gasp his name as he rushed to tear your underpants down your thighs. But your surprise at his sudden movement doubled as he spread your cheeks and buried his face between them. He’d licked you like that once or twice but only when he’d been eating your pussy and teasingly snuck his tongue elsewhere as you tried to recover from your orgasm. This was entirely different.  

It felt similar to the vaguely tickly sensation he made you feel when he was helping you relax before a round of anal, when he would tease you with light strokes from his fingers until you were shivering and wanting more. But there was more heat to it. His breath hot and his tongue wet as he traced your hole. You felt like you’d been completely lit up from within, like he’d suddenly discovered a hundred more nerve endings than he usually hit. And adding to all the physical sensations of Ben’s fingers holding you open and his mouth exploring your darkest nooks, was the feeling of doing something properly filthy. You’d felt the same when you and Ben first tried anal, completely depraved at enjoying something so taboo. That feeling had lessened as you did it more, your enjoyment then stemming from Ben’s improved skills more than the act itself. But with your head against the sheets and your arse in the air you remembered why you’d liked feeling so downright dirty. It only heightened your desire and made every caress of Ben’s tongue sweeter.  

Of course, best of all was just how into Ben was. You wondered how he could possibly be breathing when every second seemed to be taken up with moans and groans as he feasted on you. The noises started softly as he tantalized you with hard licks against your arsehole and the surrounding area. But as his tongue explored deeper, as he pressed into you, making your arse feel slick and hot with his drool and making your pussy throb, he got louder. He seemed to enjoy you more and more, as if he’d never eaten anything as satisfying in his life. That was enough to have you shaking. You were already wet from grinding against him on the couch but the ways he was touching you and how thoroughly he was enjoying it had you positively soaked.   “Finger me Benny,” you gasped, trying to maintain some of the control you’d intended to have.  Ben did as you asked, never able to deny you what you craved, but it wasn’t up to his usual standard. His fingers weren’t as deft as normal, moving awkwardly and out of time. It was as if his fingers were trying to work off of muscle memory alone, his mind too consumed with something else to take any notice of your cunt.   With a needy whine you clumsily disentangled one fist from the sheets and batted Ben’s hand out of the way, replacing it with your own.  Ben didn’t make any indication that he’d noticed you start touching yourself, except to tighten his grip on your arse, holding you firmly as you began to writhe against your fingers. He happily went back to gripping a cheek in each hand, pulling them wide to give himself better access to your arsehole.   It seemed that wearing your plug had been a good idea because Ben found it easy to press his tongue into you, licking around and making your muscles tighten before withdrawing and sinking in again.   And that stimulation plus your own fingers in your cunt made you moan wantonly into the bedding.  Ben answered with his own long, loud moan of desire, sending a shiver along your spine. It was enough to tip you over the edge, your fingers massaging a spot within you as Ben rapidly tongued your hole. 

You rode out your high before letting your fingers slip back to tangle in the sheets once more, but Ben showed no signs of stopping. He might very well have kept up the intoxicating performance all night if you hadn’t whined his name. Even that wasn’t enough to make him stop entirely, just slow down and hum.  “Ben? Benny?” you gasped, as he readjusted his grip on you, “You gonna fuck me or what?”  Ben groaned as if he didn’t want to stop tasting you but wanted to move on to other things as well. And you were on the verge of instructing him to get the lube when you felt his fingers. He reached under you, two digits carefully tracing along your cunt, sliding through the creamy evidence of your earlier orgasm. He didn’t break contact, his fingers just as softly sliding along your crack and up to your arsehole. And then they were pushing against the ring of muscle.  Usually he’d take his time applying lube but he seemed too lost in the moment to remember it. You didn’t mind too much though. Lube might have made it a touch more comfortable but wearing the plug had helped loosen you up and Ben had thoroughly coated everything with his saliva and your own cum. His fingers breached you moderately easily, making you shiver and whine at the feeling of being filled again.   “God it’s a good thing we do this a lot,” you half sighed, half laughed into the sheets, as Ben’s fingers sank another inch into you.  Ben’s only response was to lean forward and lick around where his fingers were penetrating you, humming happily as he did so. 

Ben seemed inclined to spend just as long fingering you as he did licking you, but the way his fingers moved inside you quickly had you worked up and eager for more.   “God Ben. You’re hard right?”  Ben only pumped his fingers into you faster but you took it as a yes.  "So fuck me already. Please Benny,” It came out whinier than you’d expected so you cleared your throat and tried a proper demand, “I need your cock in my arse now Ben.”  You weren’t sure it would be enough to get Ben’s attention. He seemed too engrossed in fingering you to even hear what you were saying. But thankfully, something broke through his blinders.  Suddenly, his fingers disappeared. It was followed by the sound of his pants coming down and then you felt the head of his cock against your back entrance.  “Wait,” You gasped, “Wait. Lube.”  Ben repeated the word lube in a grunt, shifting hips slightly so he could run his shaft along your soaked cunt. You felt him between your lips, as if he were teasing you, sliding back and forth, coating his length in your juices.   A moment later, he returned to your other hole, his hands on your hips to pull your arse back onto him.  Ben let out a satisfied groan as he sank into you but you were panting roughly, almost seeing stars with how good it felt to finally be filled the way you wanted to be. Once or twice your breath hitched, the discomfort of his size pushing into you exacerbated by the lack of proper lube. But it wasn’t enough to truly bother, certainly not enough to stop. The fact that just seeing your arse had made Ben snap into an animalistic, almost feral demeanour had made you impossibly horny. And you were desperate for him to fuck you properly now he was fully sheathed in your arsehole’s tight embrace.   Ben moaned at the feeling, vocalising your own desire. And then he said something.   “What was that Benny?” you asked, unable to comprehend him.  “Fuck....arse......hngggg.....arse.....” he said though you were sure you were missing something. But as nonsensical as it was it was still hot. Knowing Ben was so desperate for this, for you, knowing you could make him babble incomprehensibly. It was insanely hot.   And then he began to fuck you.   You whined and brought your hand to your pussy again, finding your clit, though Ben’s frantic thrusts made it hard to keep the contact consistent.  

You screamed when you came, voice tearing out of your throat as Ben roughly pounded into you, his hips almost bruising hard against your arse.   It was nearly impossible for you to breathe under so much pleasure and you panted for air as the orgasm subsided.  But Ben was still going, still thrusting into you furiously, grunting with the effort as he neared his own release.   You gasped his name and told him to cum, trying to not get swept away by the feeling of his cock moving inside you, wanted him to keep going almost as much as you wanted to feel his semen warm you from the inside out, and drip out of you.   Your request was enough to make him shudder to a halt, his hands squeezing your hips tightly as he released himself with a groan.  He thrust a few more times and your limbs gave out. You felt them wobble and then collapse under you, Ben’s body pressing you into the mattress as he sank down too, still trying to fuck you.  

It took you saying his name twice before he stopped though he made a reluctant sort of a sound when he realised he had to pull out.  “Well if you didn’t fuck me so well you probably could have gone on a bit longer,” you laughed as he, somewhat grudgingly, pushed himself to his feet.  With a satisfied groan you rolled over and stretched your arm out to grab Ben’s hand so you could pull him onto the bed too.   He lay on his front, sighing as his head fell into the crook of your neck, his body resting almost entirely over yours.   You were half being crushed by his weight but you enjoyed it. It was comforting and warm and you softly drew your hands over his back as you caught your breath properly.  Ben was quiet as he lay there until, some ten minutes later, he suddenly pushed himself to his knees, blinking at you. His eyes still had a vaguely unfocused appearance but the more he blinked the more normal he seemed.   “Are you okay?” He asked slowly.  You laughed and nodded, “More than okay. Lie back down, I’m too tired to sit up.”  He compiled with your request, lowering himself again but this time on his back, “I have no idea what just came over me, babe.”  With a sigh you shifted to your side, propping your head up on one hand, “What do you mean?”  “All I know is I saw your arse and just needed it, more than anything else, more than air, I just wanted you.”  “Gotta admit, it was a little unexpected,” you lay your palm on Ben’s chest, his skin still flushed and warm to the touch, “But ummmm, definitely didn’t hate it.”  His hand landed gently on top of yours, holding you against his heart, “Did I use any lube at all?”  “Only spit and my cum.”  “Fucking hell. Are you sure you’re okay?”  “It’s fine Benny. If I’d needed anything else I would have made you stop. If I’m honest....kind of made it hotter.”  “Babe!”  “Not in a weird way! I’m not going to let you get away without lube all the time.” You laughed, “Just knowing you wanted me so badly was nice.”  “I always want you badly.”  You patted Ben’s chest softly, your heart fluttering, “Does that mean you’d want to eat my arse again another time?”  “You liked it?”  “Well you were very thorough.”  Ben groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes which just made you laugh again.  “I did enjoy it,” you said softly, deciding to put him out of his misery, “Wasn’t necessarily expecting it but it felt really good.”  “Well that’s something. I still don’t understand what just happened though.”  “What’s that saying...Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?” 

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini 

[getlostsquidward]

Divine Intervention

Irina Spalko x fem!reader

A/N: For the anon that requested another Irina fic, here you go! <3

Warnings: violence, blood, nudity

Summary: The knowledge-seeking woman gets what she wants, and more.

gif from here

“Tell me everything you know.”

“I want to know everything! I want to know!”

An ominous sound can be heard in the Akator. Debris of rocks from the ceiling was starting to fall, the walls of the temple were rotating, and there was a very bright light coming from above. Akator was slowly deteriorating, but Irina didn’t falter; spellbound by the creatures who will give her the knowledge she always wanted to have. The people around her either got away in time or were sucked in by the spaceship. She stood ground in the middle of the thirteen crystal beings, graciously accepting their great gift.

“Tell me. I’m ready. I want to know!”

A smoke-like thing transferred from their skulls to Irina, passing her the wisdom she so desired.

“I can see. I can see!”

The crystal skeletons started to merge, incorporating to form a body. “Cover it! Cover it!”

Irina was overwhelmed by the knowledge she had gotten. It was too much for her, a human brain to handle; her eyes started to burn, her body disintegrated and turned into ash.

-

Irina was woken up by the blinding ray of the sun peeking in between the tall big trees, in the middle of the woods. She touched her face, her arms, to check for any burns or wounds, but she found none. She also found herself… stark naked. No clothes, no shoes, not even her trusty rapier. Blindly believing that she was alone in this vast forest, she roamed around to find clothes and shelter.

She was incredibly hungry and parched, having walked for hours now. Her feet had small cuts now, her arms with insect bites, due to the absence of garments to protect her body. Yet, she doesn’t plan to stop searching even if the sun is setting down.

It was now dark, but she can slightly see a faint flicker of lights not far ahead. She followed the light, determined to get what she needed even if she had to kill someone if they refused. It was a two-story cabin, inhabited, based on the fruits and vegetables growing outside. She looked around the house, searched for another entrance beside the front door and windows. Irina found a back door, but it was locked. She stared blankly at the doorknob, wishing she had something with her to open the damn door that wouldn’t alert whoever was inside.

The knob clicked. Thinking that someone had opened it from the inside, she shuffled for a fighting stance, ready to attack. When the door didn’t open, she pushed it and peeked inside. There was no sign of people, and the lights were off. She peered in the dark, searched for something she can eat. There was none lying around, and instead, she met was some new shiny appliances.

Her eyes caught the knives in the corner, so she took one, just in case it was needed. The sound of stomping feet from the wooden stairs alerted the Colonel-Doctor. She hid in the dark and waited if the person was threatening enough to kill.

-

You skipped the last two stairs, rushing to the fridge to get a tub of ice cream. You skimmed the items inside, looking for something to snack on while you watch your favourite show. It was rather empty aside from the half-full ice cream tub, and some leftovers. You really have to get groceries tomorrow. As you closed the door, a sharp object was pointed at your neck. You retreat away until your back hit the table. You can faintly see the woman hovering over you thanks to the dim light from the kitchen island.

You slowly raised your hands on your head, “Woah, lady. What do you want? You wanna rob my kitchen? Well, consider this your unlucky day because there’s barely anything ther-“ you stop blabbering as she pressed the knife into your skin.

“I need clothes and food. And tell me what this place is.” Her thick accent sent shivers on your spine.

“Okay. First, this is my house, and well, we’re in the middle of nowhere; and this middle of nowhere is in the Y/C. I will get you clothes, but I need to get upstairs to my room. For the food, there’s a leftover in the fridge. I’ll heat it for you if you want. Please, just please don’t kill me,” you pleaded.

She stepped back enough for you to stand, but her hand grabbed your shoulder as a precaution as if you can outmuscle her. You walked towards the fridge to get her food and put it in the oven. After setting the timer, you head to the stairs, the woman still behind you. Once you got to your room she closed the door abruptly and gave you space to rummage on your closet. You don’t know if your clothes will fit her so you settled on giving her an oversized shirt and one of your comfy shorts. “Here,” you turned around to give her when you finally noticed that she was naked. “What the fu…” your eyes trail down her Alabaster skin, but abruptly faced away when she cleared her throat. Blushing from being caught, you merely tossed the clothes to her.

Gathering your courage to speak, you asked, “Lady, who are you and why are you very nude in my house?” You’re insanely beautiful too, and I mean that with utter respect.

“Irina Spalko. I woke up in the middle of these woods earlier. You can turn around now.” Once you did, she continued, “And thank you.”

“Well, I don’t really mind the company, as long as you don’t kill me, please.”

“Insanely beautiful.”

You stared at her dumbly, "What?”

“You said I’m insanely beautiful,” she said smugly, her lips tugging upwards on a smirk.

Now, what the fuck did she just said? “I- I didn’t say anything like that. You must be hallucinating, Ms. Spalko. Your hunger makes you hear things.” You scurried off downstairs to get as far away from her, and your ice cream. It must have turned to a puddle now.

You set her food on the table and wait as she took her time before following you out. She must be so sure that you wouldn’t take off and call for help.

The princess had finally descended, you thought as you watch her sit at the table and eat silently. “Colonel-Doctor. Not a princess,” she declared. You opened your mouth to speak but remained in an O-shape as no coherent words were coming out. “H-how- what- I- I don’t understand. A-are you a mind reader or something? A witch?”

“Neither. Just… a chosen one.” After that, she paid you no mind and continued eating.

You walked out of the kitchen, fearing that she would hear your thoughts again. Instead, you whispered to yourself, “What have I gotten myself into? I'm like a hostage in my own house, okay. I feel like the main character that dies first in a horror movie.”

You sauntered back in the kitchen and asked the woman, “I take it you’re staying here for the meantime? So do you wanna sleep in the living room or the guest room?” you probed. “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I? If I want to stay alive?”

She only nodded. “Thought so; Uhm, so, where?”

“Guest room.”

“Got it. If you’re finished, just throw the plate into the trash. I’ll ready the room.”

You just finished placing some sheets into the bed when she arrived. “Okay, housemate. Bed’s ready. It’s been a long day for the both of us, and I really wanna sleep now, so let’s settle what we have to settle tomorrow, ‘kay? Good night,” you finished your speech and closed the door. You leaned onto it and breathed out a deep sigh. When did you become such a hospitable host that you just let a dangerous woman into your house?

-

Sleep didn’t come to Irina that night. She tried to remember what happened before she got here. Right. They had returned the skull to Akator; she requested knowledge and they gave it to her. Her brain was overloaded with too much information that she disintegrated. Irina still remembers the excruciating pain, the feeling that someone was drilling holes into her head, the feeling of being burned, but here she was, alive and well. In the middle of nowhere, with someone who looks very vulnerable. You proved to be of use to her, so she won’t harm you… as of now.

Her mind drifted to you. How was she able to read what was on your mind just by sparing you a glance? Before, she needed to be close to the person as possible before she can read them. Her psychic abilities had her family ostracized; the reason she sought knowledge and her purpose. How about the doorknob? Did she do it? Did the interdimensional beings amplified her abilities, and possibly gave her more?

How many days have passed since she was in Akator?

64 years.

At first, she couldn’t comprehend how time had passed, seeing as she didn’t age one bit. But since Irina had encountered aliens herself, nothing was odd for her anymore.

“So you’re saying you’re from the ’50s?”

“Yes.”

“How did that happen?” you curiously asked. “I mean, one day, you’re in a temple in the ’50s, then you woke up in the woods in 2021?” she nodded. “Actually, you know what, whatever. I believe you. The world is in shambles right now and I wouldn’t be surprised anymore if aliens were real,” you finished as you parked your car.

“Here’s the deal, Irina. You’re a woman out of time, and so much had changed since you… since then,” you paused, “And you’re a very physical woman. Like I think if someone bumped their cart onto you you’ll tackle them to the ground, and I don’t wanna cause a scene. So, stick with me, please.”

So far, so good. Irina wasn’t causing a scene yet, except when she snatches out the item you were holding. She was intently reading the label and then muttering about how it wasn’t good for the body and then putting it back on the shelf.

The cart was nearly full; mostly food, toiletries, and some tools. Irina didn’t add anything save for a toy sword. Okay.

She was mostly quiet, but you see that her eyes silently wander around the place, on the people around, frequently landing on you. You spent shopping in comfortable silence, letting her absorb the state of the world. She may be listing off her questions in her head and then ask about them later.

You look at your grocery list and cart simultaneously, checking if you’ve got everything you needed. As you confirm that you’ve had, you gasped as Irina took your hand into hers and laced your fingers together. You looked at your joined hands, feeling how warm and soft her hand is. You remembered that she can read minds, so you jokingly asked, ‘What hand cream do you use?’, testing her ability once again.

“There are two men following us since we got out of the car. I doubt you noticed, but good thing you take so long in every aisle, I was able to confirm that they were indeed following us,” she whispered, her hot breath tickling your ears. “They intend to steal from you.”

Fear taking over you, you stammered “Oh. Stealing in the light of day, okay, uh can’t you do anything to them? Any more abilities? Clearly, you can defend yourself based on how you introduced yourself last night.”

“I could, but you said you didn’t want to cause a scene. And I wasn’t certain until now.”

“Yeah, I take that back. Do what you have to. I trust you.”

Irina found this as an excuse to measure her abilities. You continued to act normal, proceeding to the counter to pay for your groceries. They have no idea that you and Irina have noticed them already. The men split up, keeping themselves at a distance, as one queued at the counter beside yours. The other had gone out of your sight.

She planned to lure them into the alley at the back of the shop. Once you arrived, she had noticed the other man nonchalantly leaning on the wall ahead, waiting for you. You continued to walk slowly until you felt the second man behind you, effectively trapping the both of you in the middle of the back alley. The moment they got near, the man behind spoke, “You, the one with the bags. Give me your money,” he hissed, referring to you. “Your phone and keys. And no one will get hurt.”

You would’ve run for the life of you if there wasn’t another man waiting on the other side, flipping a knife. Eyes locked on Irina, you patiently wait for her instruction, hoping she wouldn’t turn on you and leave you alone.

“I won’t,” she murmured, side-eyeing either man at your side.

The Ukrainian wasn’t sure if her hunch was right, but if she wasn’t, she could still take both men with bare hands. She stared at the knife and envisioned it impaling on his stomach. The man’s grunt had confirmed her hunch as red stained his clothes, and blood trickled to the ground. She then pulled the knife out and willed it to pierce through the other man’s thigh. Once he was down on his knees, Irina’s hand that never left yours yanked you to run to your car. She gave them a last glance and hurled their bodies to the wall for safe measure.

Afraid that someone might have seen what happened, you started the car immediately and drove out. None of you spoke until you’re sure that you are far enough from the store. “What the fuck?” you blurted, adrenaline still coursing through you. “Did you- did you do that? No, no don’t answer. You definitely did. Uh, telekinesis and mind-reading? Any additional powers you’re hiding?”

You glanced at her, her eyes straight on the road. “Because if you’re planning to stay in my house for God knows how long, you might wanna tell me about them.”

She was silent for a while, contemplating her answer. “I don’t know if there’s more.”

When you didn’t respond, she told you everything that had happened to her since she was a child. How they were exiled in their village when her psychic abilities had manifested, how her own mother feared her for her naïve innocence, which led her to flee the village and search for answers.

You listened attentively, though lost yourself when she mentioned that she was part of the Soviet Union. You only hear and see on the internet how these people were trained, and uneasiness was creeping up. Her intentions weren’t clear; she hadn’t yet thought about what she’s going to do now that she’s in a society she outgrew.

When she noticed that you trailed off, she spoke, “I don’t use a hand cream.”

It was a good thing that you’re not stepping on any pedal right now because you would have pressed the brakes heavily. You raised your brow at her, amused, and a chuckle coming out from you. Though her eyes were still cold and impassive, a genuine smile tugged from her lips.

[yamalegacy]

prompt eleven with mirko 😳

i've already done 11 with midnight but idc, i love buff bunny too much not to do it! and well, considering how it aligns with the godly possessive!rumi hcs, it's way too tempting anyway! so here goes!

prompt: #11 from this list  “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”

pairing: mirko (usagiyama rumi) x gn!reader

cw: SMUT. afab reader. rumi is a possessive bunny. brat!reader. dom/sub dynamic. hair pulling, spanking, dirty talking, slight degradation & praise kink (yes, both at the same time, don’t underestimate rumi), fingering, strapon, slight anal fingering. oh boy this really is the filthiest thing i’ve written in a loooong time.

word count: about 3,7k words WOPS I GOT CARRIED AWAY

⚠️ MDNI reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

   Your phone buzzes exactly seven minutes after you started a conversation with Keigo— he insists you call him Keigo, because Hawks is too professional and Takami is too formal, his own words. Seven whole minutes (yes, you’ve been keeping an eye on the time during the whole conversation). It’s over six minutes later than you’d expected, really. It buzzes again almost immediately, and you make a point to ignore your phone for a bit as you glance at Rumi, on the other side of the bar, over the rim of your glass.

When she arcs an eyebrow at you, visibly losing her patience, you give all your attention to Keigo again and offer him a smile before pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans to check the messages you’ve no doubt received from the Rabbit Hero.

fluffy butt 🐇🤍

i bet you think you’re real cute letting him put his hands all over you we’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home

It’s almost disappointing how predictable she is with these things. Almost. Rumi is way too hot when she gets jealous for it to actually be disappointing. You want to remind her that she is the one who invited you to that bar and who left you alone to get drinks, that she is the one who got distracted by a conversation with Ryukyu, but you decide to leave her on read and see what happens.

From where you stand, you can see Rumi’s internal struggle not to just abruptly cut Ryukyu in the middle of what she is saying so that she can get right between you and Keigo. It’s quite the amusing sight, from her flattened ears to her thumping foot, her attitude reeks of frustration. You can’t help but wonder what will tick her off so much that she will intervene — Keigo has only touched you shoulder and given your arm a light squeeze and Rumi is already seething, so it seems likely just about anything would set her off.

“I can hear her thump from here,” Keigo comments, a lazy smile adorning his lips. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

You chuckle at his words.

“I think she’s trying to see whether or not looks can kill.”

He leans closer to you (and you know it’s much too closer to Rumi’s standards because you can smell the minty alcohol on his breath), “I sure hope looks can kill. It’d be a lot less painful than her foot up my— well, wherever she fancies shoving it, I guess.”

You don’t even have time to give him a reaction that you can hear heavy footsteps approaching, so you lean away from Keigo just enough to properly look at your girlfriend as she marches over to you. It’s only now that she is right here that you notice she’s opened her leather jacket, revealing one of her favorite crop tops — black, sinfully tight and exposing just the right amount of cleavage and abs to make your mouth water. 

God, her skin always looks so tempting, you want to reach out, to put a hand on her waist, under her jacket, but she grabs you by the wrist before you can even try to move a muscle. Her eyes are fixed on you, and, to your surprise, she doesn’t even acknowledge Keigo.

“We’re leaving,” she says, her tone stern.

“Rumi... it’d be rude to leave so early,” you tell her, smiling at her with all the innocence you can muster (enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well), “and you are the one who wanted us to come here in the first pl—”

“We’re leaving. I remembered I have something to do.”

You want to push, to tease, to see how far she’ll go, so even if her tone leaves no room for argument, you open your mouth again.

“But you—”

“Now.”

She tugs are your arm and you follow as she takes a first few steps away from Keigo, only to turn around and face him.

“I hope you choke on your fucking feathers, birdy.”

“Always nice to talk to you, Usagiyama,” he simply smirks and gives her a small wave of his hand, “and I hope something,” he glances at you, “will enjoy getting done.”

Rumi doesn't give you any time to say goodbye to him, or to any of her hero friends, and she drags you out of the bar, heading straight for her car. She doesn't even let you register how forceful she is being that you've already been shoved in the passenger seat.

The ride home is short (too short; Rumi drives way too fast for a Pro Hero who is supposed to set an example for those around her) and awfully quiet. She didn't even look at you, didn't glance your way at least once like she usually does. Rumi's ears are still flattened in annoyance when she opens the door of her house to push you inside.

She kicks off her sneakers and takes off her leather jacket to leave it on the back of chair, then heads to the couch, sitting down nonchalantly, arms crossed under her chest in a way that pushes up her tits. All you can do is stare, unable to form a coherent thought as you settle down next to her.

“You had fun flirting with Big Bird, baby?” she asks, and the question would be innocent enough if you didn't know your girlfriend better.

You move so that you're facing Rumi on the couch, your knee bumping into a strong thigh — and maybe, for a moment, you get briefly distracted by the thought of these rippling muscles on either side of your head.

“Come on, Rumi, you know there was no actual flirting. We were just having fun.”

She leans closer to you, invading your personal space, face so close to yours that all you can see in the harsh coldness in her eyes. You barely have time to blink that one of her hands is at the back of your head, her grip on your hair surprisingly gentle.

“Oh, because you think I don’t know what little game you were playing with him there?” she is nearly snarling at you, and this time, her grip on your hair tightens, deliciously painful, and she tugs. “Why do you think I waited so long to grab you, uh?”

So, she knew? The whole time you spent talking with Keigo, flirting with him and allowing him to flirt to get a reaction from her, she knew? And it still didn't stop her from getting jealous and acting possessive in the middle of a bar, surrounded by numerous other Pro Heroes.

Her grip on your hair tightens once more and she brings you closer to her body.

"I just wanted to see how far you'd take your little game," she explains, words nearly spat through her gritted teeth. "But I couldn't take it anymore. You're mine, understood?" she asks, but the way she pulls at your hair clearly tells you that she expects no reply.

"I thought we agreed that I was my own person?" you smirk, even as she yet again tugs at your hair. "We said we don't own each other even if we're dating, didn't we?"

It is true, it's something you've talked about pretty early in your relationship together, after Rumi admitted that she could get jealous easily, but hated that she got jealous. It led to conversation about acting possessive during sex and marking, and you know that's what Rumi is going on about right now, and not some sort of ownership that she'd have over you because she is your girlfriend. But you can't help it, can't help wanting to push all her buttons and see what kind of punishment it earns you.

"You're playing smartass with me now, uh?"

She tugs at your hair again, forcing your head back slightly, but you hold eye contact, refusing to let her get the submission that she wants from you just now. You've already earned yourself a punishment, might as well make the most of it, right?

"I would never."

You smile innocently and bat your eyelashes at her, even if the pain tickling your scalp is starting to blur your sight.

She lets go of your hair without saying anything, and for just a second, you think she might be too annoyed with your act and drop the issue entirely to move on and do whatever she feels like doing for the rest of the night. But she wraps her strong fingers around your wrist and pulls, her free hand pressing harshly between your shoulder blades to push you down onto her lap, face into the couch cushion and ass up, perched over her thighs.

Well, shit.

The first spank comes unexpectedly fast and hard, you have no time to brace yourself for the impact, and your jeans do little to absorb the shock and the pain spreading through your cheek.

“Shit!” you groan through gritted teeth, trying your best not to get too loud, which is most likely exactly what Rumi wants right now.

“Got something to say, baby?” Rumi asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Nope. All good,” you mumble.

A second slap comes, matching the first one in speed and strength, leaving your ass numb from the pain. If there’s one thing you can never expect from your girlfriend, it’s for her to go easy on you.

“All good, you said?”

“Yup,” you whimper pathetically, your voice having none of the bite you wish for. Two spanks, and Rumi already has you trembling over her lap, it’s ridiculous, but you should have seen it coming, really.

She spanks you again, twice, and takes the time to brush the palm of her hand over your sore cheeks, the gesture almost soothing. She repeats the movements again, and again, before stopping to give your ass a squeeze. With each spank, you pant, forcing yourself to swallow the moans that threaten to fall past your lips.

“You’re taking your punishment really well today, baby. Trying to be good for me?” she teases, her hand now comfortably lodged between your thighs, too close to your aching core and yet not nearly close enough.

“Or maybe you’re not hitting as hard as you think you are.”

You aren't sure why you said that, aren't sure what you're doing right now, all you know is that it's dangerous because you're just provoking Rumi — it's always a recipe for disaster in the end.

She doesn't spank you though, but she snakes a hand between her lap and your stomach, pressing her fingers into your skin and pushing up until you put your weight on your knees and lift yourself up enough for her to get access to the button of your pants. Rumi hooks her fingers at the hem of your jeans and tugs, dragging them down your thighs along with your underwear.

She doesn't give you time to adapt to the cool air against your exposed bottom, doesn't let you collect your thoughts or even take a breath, before she is spanking you again. She marks no pause between each strike, just spanks and spanks and spanks. Lost in the rapid fire of her assault on your sensitive ass, you can't stop yourself from moaning — and that's when she pauses.

“Did my baby just moan?”

You stubbornly refuse to respond, clenching your jaw. You know a spank is coming, but you still aren’t ready for the pain.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re just a slut, desperate for me to touch you,” she coos, her calloused fingers gently brushing the raw skin of your ass. “Even if I’m just spanking you, you want me to touch you, don’t you? Because you’re a needy little whore for me, uh?”

Her words cause a shiver to run down your spine, straight to your core, but you press your thighs together and bit your tongue. You’re well aware what she wants you to do, what she wants you to say, but you don’t want to give it to her today. You’ve decided to play, and you won’t back down just because she’s spanking your ass raw. At your stubborn silence, she all but growls in your ear, her annoyance obvious as she slaps your burning cheek once more.

“How long do you think you can resist, baby?” she asks as her fingers trace little patterns on your back, your shirt riding up as her hand slowly moves higher. “How long til you act like the good little slut you are for me?”

You muffle your whine in the cushion, which is starting to feel uncomfortably wet from your tears and drool under your cheek. You hate it, but you can’t give in now. Rumi would be too pleased.

“Just say you’re mine, baby, say you’re my perfect good little slut,” she says, her fingers trailing down your back to settle between your thighs, an inch from where you need her most, “just say it and I promise I’ll fuck your pretty cunt so good you won’t be able to walk.”

She runs a finger along your drenched fold, and you hear her hum in delight. You hate how wet she’s making you; you can’t deny that this is all for her, that it’s the effect she has one you. Met with only silence once again, Rumi harshly pinches your clit between her thumb and index finger.

“Aaah! Rumi—” you gasp, whole body quivering.

“Say it. Say you’re my slut. Beg me to fuck you.”

“Please,” you whimper weakly.

“Uh? What did you say? Didn’t hear you, baby. Stop hiding in the couch and gimme a proper sentence.”

You nearly sob as she tightens her grip on your clit before releasing it.

“I’m your slut! All yours!” you feel your whole face burning at your own word, at the desperation in your voice. “I need you to fuck me! Please... Mirko... please fuck me.”

She chuckles, all too amused to your liking.

“See? Ain’t so hard to be good, is it?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Rumi has hoisted you in her arms and thrown you over her shoulder and is making her way to your bedroom. Your pants still down the middle of your thighs and ass bared, it’s the most embarrassing ever but you can’t even find words to express it; you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs, sticky and embarrassing.

She tosses onto the bed as soon as she is close enough to it.

“Be good and strip for me, baby. Take everything off.”

You hurry to obey, pushing your pants further down and kicking them off your feet before you start working on taking off your shirt. Rumi’s disappeared into the bathroom, so you sit patiently to wait for her, back leaning against the headboard.

When she comes back, Rumi is dressed, and you take the time to admire her beauty. The size of her strong arms obvious through the thin material of her long-sleeved crop top, the delicious expanse of tan skin of her stomach, her tight abs, the curve of her hips— you notice it only now, the thick bulge hidden under her jeans. You look up at her face, surprise written all over your features, and the smile she gives you is playful, she even wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Rumi unbuttons and unzips her pants, freeing the thickness of her strapon from them before climbing on the bed. She sits, legs spread, and beckons you closer with the simple movement of a finger.

“Suck it,” she demands, “get my cock nice and ready to fuck your cunt.”

You crawl over to her and wrap a hand around the hard silicone as soon as it’s within reach, your lips closing around its head. You circle it with your tongue, lick it, and look up at Rumi’s face, the dildo snug in your mouth. She can’t feel it, but she always enjoys when you put on a show for her.

Long gone is your little rebellious act from earlier. All you want is for Rumi to take you here and now, to have her fuck you until you pass out.

As you take more of the silicone cock into your mouth, she puts a hand on your head, and soon enough, you can feel her tight grip in your hair. You’re almost halfway when she tugs and pulls you away from her cock.

“Ass up. Face down. Now.”

You do as she orders, resisting the temptation to look up when you feel the bed dip next to you. You hear her open the drawer of the nightstand, then the sound of the lube bottle being opened. From the loud clang that follows, you know she’s thrown the bottle back in the drawer rather than bother putting it down.

Her fingers are cold when they press against your entrance, slick with thick lube that she spreads over your folds, over your clit, before pushing two fingers inside you. You grip at the sheets, low moan leaving your lips.

“Look at you, being all good for me now,” she comments, her tone teasing. “Taking my fingers so well.” This time, her voice comes from much closer, and you feel her chest pressing against your back. She kisses your neck and shoulders as she starts moving her fingers, slow and deliberate. “You want my cock, baby?”

You whimper at a particularly harsh thrust of her fingers and tighten your grip on the sheet to try and keep yourself anchored, balanced.

“Yes, please! I want your cock in me!”

She pulls out her fingers, and your cunt clenches around the emptiness. You can’t help but moan miserably. She coos above you, amused by your desperation, of course.

She pushes the thick head of the strapon against your hole, but instead of pushing further into you, she guides it up and down your folds, several time, painfully slow, spreading the slickness of your arousal mixed with the lube. You whine and push your hips back, seeking what she is refusing you. A big mistake, and you know it even before both her hands hit your ass, still raw from the spanking she gave you.

“Don’t try that again, baby,” she warns, squeezing the flesh of your in her hands as she presses the dildo against your entrance again. “You gonna be good for me now?”

“I promise I’ll be good! So, please, please fuck me!”

She pushes into you slowly, just the head, then pulls out and repeats the movement, carefully stretching you. She eases more of the strapon inside you with each move, and while you are grateful for how careful she is being, you wish she would just fuck you into the mattress already.

Finally, you feel her hips against your ass, and she pauses for a moment as her hands rest on your waist.

“You ready, baby?”

“I am.”

The pace she sets is fast, the movements of her hips quick, precise and harsh, almost unforgiving. The material of her pants feels rough against the sensitive skin of your ass, and you suspect Rumi of having kept her pants on merely to torture you that way.

Within seconds, Rumi has you panting and moaning.

“So good for me, taking my cock so well.”

She slows her quick pace to focus on deeper, more forceful thrusts. You can’t even form a coherent sentence, or even words, to respond. And when one of her hands leaves your waist, you clench your teeth and brace yourself for an impact that doesn’t come. Instead of spanking you, she is gentle as she places her hand on your ass. She doesn’t leave you time to consider asking her what she is doing that her thumb is pushing against your hole, and she keeps it set firmly in your ass as she quickens the pace again, fucking into your cunt ruthlessly, her hips slapping your ass with each thrust.

“Fuck! Mirko! Please!”

You’re babbling, unsure if the sounds that come out of your mouth are even the ones in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care when all you can feel is your girlfriend fucking you like your lives depends on it. And with each thrust bringing you closer to the edge, you moan, you mewl, you pant, you aren’t sure which, the lewd, wet noises of your pussy overwhelming your senses.

“Look at you, baby,” she croons, “being such a good slut for me, making such pretty noises just for me. So pretty and perfect. And all mine.”

“I’m so close! Please! I wanna come!”

She stills her hips, “then do,” she simply says, punctuating the short sentence with a strong thrust before resuming her quick pace.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her cock and her thumb pushing a little further into your ass for your muscles to clench desperately around her strap as waves of pleasure crash through your body, your limbs quivering from the unadulterated bliss clouding your mind. 

She is gentle as she pulls out, kisses your back as she eases you down onto the mattress and lies down next to you.

You turn your head to look at her, and she is grinning at you as you lay limply on the bed. She caresses your cheek, soft and loving, and shifts closer to kiss you on the nose.

“You did so good, babe,” she whispers, her smile only broadening, “I’m so proud of you.”

Feeling the exhaustion invade your body, you close your eye and focus on enjoying her gentle touch as she runs her fingers along your back and shoulders.

“Let’s get you in the shower in a few minutes, yeah? I’ll have to take care of your ass. I really got carried, sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckle sleepily at her apology.

“Don’t be sorry, you know I liked it.”

“I do know. I mean, you fucking dripped on my pants, there’s still a spot on my thigh.”

You groan in embarrassment, and you would cover your face with your hands if your muscles weren’t still twitching from your orgasm.

“Just carry my lifeless body to the bathroom.”

“Gimme a break, I’m tired too. I fucking wrecked my hands spanking you so hard, ya know?”

“You really want to compare the state of your hands to my ass?” you mutter, frowning, eyes barely opening.

It’s her turn to chuckle.

“Yeah, okay, no. Just, lemme take a breathe and I’ll take care of my baby.”

[roger-that-cap]

lover

sam wilson x fem!reader

warnings: absolutely none. this is pure fluff, the perfect way to kick off my first sam wilson obsession

word count: 1.3k- basically a drabble

inspired by lover by taylor of course- y’all can peep the places i slid in a few lines hehehe

 You were reading, but then again, you weren’t. There were moments where you could pull yourself together and look at the pages, but you knew that it was all in vain. Sam Wilson was right across from you, sitting at the table with you as he watched you the same way. You felt your cheeks warm up at his steady stare, and finally you put your book down. The soft music playing in the background filled the silence while you tried to string together a coherent sentence. 

 You could never remember to do anything around Sam but admire him. “Can I help you, Sam?” You asked, the playful tone of your voice not escaping his notice. You saw his lips quirk up into that small half smile that stole your heart months ago and propelled you forward into a life you never thought you’d live. 

  “Didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to look at my girl,” he drawled, and you rolled your eyes before picking your book up again, even though you both knew that you weren’t going to retain a word of what you pretended to read. ‘What, are you busy or something?” 

“Trying to get in some light reading,” you murmured, your heart settling to a calming rate when his leg found yours under the table, locking with yours in the way that he almost always did. You couldn't keep the smile from coming to your lips. It only took him a minute and a half to trail his hand across the table and take your left one, gently prying it from the book and holding it tenderly. 

 When you opened your mouth to scold him with less than your full chest, he gave you a look that made your heart stutter. “Just wanna be close to you, sweetheart.” He was just so charming. He was smooth in a way that made anyone’s mind falter for a moment, and so genuine that you knew he meant every word he said. He had this charisma, a dazzling aura around him that you saw from miles away, and it was what drew you to him in the first place. He never failed to put you in a romantic kind of haze, one that only he could put you in and take you out of. 

You had loved and lost a few times in life, had your heart borrowed and returned and dyed blue many more times than you would have preferred, but it was all worth it when it came to Sam. You knew that you would go through each heartbreak three more times just to love Sam once, if that was what it took. Your blue heart turned a passionate pink the second you met him, and you just knew that it was safe with him. You had never met anyone like Sam Wilson, and you had surely never met anyone who made you feel like he did. 

Within a few minutes, you had only turned the page once, and the feeling of his eyes on you surely didn’t make you go any faster. When you finally got to a new chapter, you saw that it was going to be told from the point of view of a character that had a particularly boring arc up to that point, and you knew that there was no way you were going to be able to ignore Sam while reading it. “You need something, Wilson?” 

He grabbed your second hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “Just you,” he said, and then the annoying sound of the wooden chair scraping the floor was loud in your small apartment. He brought you to your feet, and then you were standing with him, both hands intertwined over the table.  “Let’s dance.” 

You blinked. “Sam, you know I don’t dance.” You had two left feet and not enough heart to have fun while embarrassing yourself. The last time you had danced was actually with Sam, when he put on old, outdated slow song and tried to prove that he could out dance Steve and Bucky, even though they had lived through the slow dancing age. You had dragged him down a bit, but he still managed to show off with you on his arm. 

“You also didn’t ride roller coasters, eat fair food, swim in the ocean, or go to concerts,” he pointed out, and you rolled your eyes. “And look at you now, sweetpea.” 

It was true. Sam could bat his eyelashes at you twice and you would do anything he wanted. Not because he was too pretty to deny, but because he wanted you to be with him. He made you get on that terrifying ride because he wanted to see your face on the climb, and because he wanted to hold your hand while you went down together. He wanted you to go to the beach with him and get in the water because he knew you’d like it if you tried it, and because he would get to see your eyes light up when you realized it yourself. He wanted to do everything with you because he wanted memories with him. And deep down, you knew that you would always go where he would. So, without a word, you rounded the side of the table and went into his awaiting arms. 

He was a good dancer. He led you without even saying a word, a hand on the small on your back and the other pulling you close. You closed your eyes and leaned your head on his chest, humming in contentment as words left your mind until you were only filled with thoughts of him. 

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He asked, and you nearly cursed him and his observant skills. 

“Just…” you said, and your heart swelled at the way he looked down at you, waiting patiently for you to form your words to your liking. “It’s in times like these where I can’t remember if I’ve known you for twenty seconds or twenty years,” you murmured, and he gave you a small smile. 

  “And why is that?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice, and you ignored the way that your cheeks heated up again. 

 “We just- we just feel close,” you explained weakly, but he didn't press. He knew you weren’t finished, like he knew everything about you. “Not even just physically, but, everything. All around.” 

  He was still swaying you gently, the innocent kind of dance that you would see between a sweet couple. His hands were warm on your skin, gentle and firm in reminding you that he was there with you, not halfway across the world and bleeding on some sort of aircraft. “Can we always be this close, sweetheart?” 

  Instead of your heart speeding up again, it just ticked on steadily like the time, a metronome that kept up with your swaying. “As long as you want us to be.” 

In a display that would have made your stomach churn with how sickly sweet it was had you been watching another couple do it, he bent down and kissed you again. “That’s gonna be a long time, darlin’.” 

You didn’t have a ring on your finger. Hell, you didn’t even have a full year under your belt with him. You didn’t have the same skills as him, you didn’t like to go on those long runs at the crack of dawn with him, and you sure as hell weren’t built for the kind of life that he lived so that others didn’t have to. But you knew that you loved him wholly and eternally and you could feel that he returned it,  and that fact was as hard and true as a diamond. You didn’t need three summers and a proposal to decide or realize that. 

“Forever, then.” You said, and your heart skipped at your own words, until he bent down and kissed you, lips against your for a few seconds until he pulled away, still so close that you could feel them moving against you when he spoke again. 

   “Forever works for me.” 

                                                     *****

i quite literally have had zero time to write, and when i did have time, writer’s block was terrible. I’m fr very sappy rn and this was the cure i guess? this is my first sam fic and the first thing i’ve made since i got into a funk, so be please be gentle skfjs

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Can’t leave me behind

Word count: 1668

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Natasha x reader

Warnings: None (lmk if I should add any)

Request: Could I request natasha x reader with actions 1 and 9 from the prompt list? (1 - Person A finding excuses to hold Person B’s hand, 2 - Person A and Person B are best friends but somehow start to get feelings for each other)

Summary: Natasha holds your hand to prevent you from rushing ahead of her and it’s all you can think about.

A/n: Thanks anon for requesting and sorry that it took me so long to actually write this! Btw this is from a prompt list I no longer use. Wow this one actually didn’t take too long to write! And I’m back on track in terms of writing fics so I’m happy! Anyways, you hear enough of me rambling in the a/n, enjoy the fic!

“Where to now?” You ask as you both exit the small coffee shop you frequent.

“Well I thought that instead of going straight back to the tower we could take a detour through the park, I heard there’s a farmers market going on right now.” She tells you. “But we could just go straight home if you want to.” 

“A farmer’s market sounds great!” You say excitedly, immediately walking in the direction of the nearby park. Natasha gives a small smile at your cuteness before covering it back up and taking a few quick steps so she’s walking beside you. 

The park is only a few blocks away and the farmers market is much bigger than you imagined it would be. Tents line the path selling freshly grown fruits and vegetables, bread, baked goods, honey, meat and some independent food vendors. There are also a few tents that look to be selling jewelry and bags instead of food. Immediately you’re at the first stand looking over the selection of freshly picked berries. Natasha catches up, huffing in annoyance at you. You ignore her, continuing to look over the berries before picking the best of each type; blueberries, raspberries and strawberries.

“Can we get them?” You ask, giving Natasha the best pleading eyes you can.

She sighs, giving in easily. “Fine.” You pump your hand in the air in victory, missing her smile about how cute you look. She quickly pays the owner of the stall and then follows as you search for another place to go.

“Ooooo can we get cookies?” You ask her when you see the bakery stand because the cookies look amazing.

“Of course!” She replies. “Why don’t we go to the juice stand because it’s closer first…” She trails off as she notices that you’ve already made your way to the stand, leaving her behind. She shakes her head at how excitable you are, talking to the person working there enthusiastically, pointing out different cookies.

“Y/n!” She admonishes lightly when she arrives at the stand.

“Sorry.” You tell her, unapologetic. She shakes her head but then buys the cookies you want, plus extras for the team. You almost feel bad that she’s paying for everything but you want cookies so you aren’t going to complain.

“You need to stop running off.” She tells you when you start to walk away, already leaving her behind as she puts the box of cookies in her bag with the berries. “From now on you’re staying with me.” You open your mouth to retort but all that comes out is incomprehensible babbling because she grabs your hand and holds it, not letting go.”

“What-what is that for?” You ask when you regain your normal speaking abilities.

She smirks. “Well now you can’t rush off without me. Do you have any problems with this?”

“No.” You squeak, happy to hold onto her hand.

“Good.” She replies, starting to walk and lead you around the market like nothing is wrong. You don’t even feel the urge to run off again because you honestly can’t pay full attention to anything but Natasha’s hand around your own. She keeps holding it as you go around to stands and doesn’t let it go even on the walk back to the tower. Although you probably should have gotten used to it after the first few minutes you still can’t concentrate as you get on the elevator with her and make your way up to the avengers area.

“Woah, woah, woah, Natasha and Y/n are holding hands!” Tony announces as soon as you step out. Embarrassed you drop her hand. 

“It’s because I kept leaving her behind so she didn’t want me to run away again.” You explain, your cheeks burning.

“Are you sure it’s not because you’re in love?” Tony asks, singsonging the word love. Natasha keeps her composure as always but you nearly choke.

“I’m going to give Bruce a cookie, bye!” You blurt out leaving the room as fast as you can.

“I did not see her holding any cookies.” Steve says, confused by your antics.

Natasha laughs. “That’s because she wasn’t.”

“No. We are not changing the conversation.” Tony butts in. “You were holding hands with Y/n.”

“And what about it?” Natasha counters, raising an eyebrow delicately, something she knew the entire team was jealous of.

“What about it? What about it?” Tony splutters. “The black widow doesn’t just hold hands with people! Are you guys dating?”

“Not yet,” Natasha admits, “I’m dropping some hints before I officially ask her out because I want to be sure she likes me, I can’t ruin our friendship over some one sided feelings.”

“I may not know much about love but Y/n is head over heels for you Natasha.” Steve assures her. “She is always happy around you.”

“Not to mention how flustered she gets.” Tony replies, helpful for once. 

“I’ve been noticing more and more, so should I just go ask her out now?” She asks. 

“Go for it.” Steve encourages and Natasha smiles, nods and begins to walk towards the door. 

“Good luck Romanoff!” Tony shouts after her. “Go get your girl!”

---

“Bruce, hi.” You say, out of breath from your run to the kitchen where you found him.

“Hi.” He replies, bemused. 

“I brought cookies!” You bring up your hands to show him, realizing in horror you had forgotten them. “I’m so sorry, I accidentally forgot to grab them from Nat.”

“It’s okay.” He chuckles. “Maybe we could go get them now?”

You shake your head violently. “No, nope, no, no, no, no, no. We definitely can’t do that.” 

“And why not?” He asks.

“Because I ran away from her.” You reply, feeling a little embarrassed about that now. Natasha had obviously noticed, she notices everything so you just hope she doesn’t ask about your strange behaviour.

“And you ran away from her because…” Bruce prompts, wanting to hear why although already suspecting the general reason.

“Because we were at the farmers market and I kept going ahead of her so she held my hand to keep me beside her but she didn’t let go and it made me feel nervous but it felt so nice and then Tony and Steve saw and asked if we were in love so I left quickly because I’m sort of maybe in love with her.” You ramble, not taking a breath. 

“Okay, calm down.” Bruce instructs. “Do you want to tell her you’re in love with her?”

“Of course not.,” you reply, “I’ve kept it hidden for months and I’m not going to stop now. I’m not going to lose my best friend over some one sided feelings.”

“Sometimes being truthful and open is better in the long run.” Bruce says and you guess it’s supposed to be smart but you are way too scared of Natasha’s reaction to tell her.

“Yeah ok.” You respond sarcastically. “What am I supposed to say? Hi Natasha, I just wanted to let you know that you holding my hand makes me flustered and unable to think because I’m in love with you. By the way I’m sorry I ruined our friendship.”

“Um, I think I’m going to go now.” Bruce says and you look at him confused. He gestures over your shoulder to the doorway where Natasha is standing.

“No, no, please stay.” You beg, and he hesitates on his way out.

“Please go Bruce.” Natasha says, pleasantly but firmly and with that he leaves, giving you a thumbs up behind her back.

Natasha takes a step further into the kitchen and you take a small step back. She takes another and you step back again, gulping. She tilts her head the the side and you can’t see what she’s thinking.

“I make you flustered?” She asks and you nod, knowing there’s no point in hiding it anymore. “And you love me?” You nod again, looking at the ground, the lights, the salt that’s on the counter, looking at anything just to avoid looking at her. 

When you finally look back she’s closer, much closer, just a little bit more than an arms length away. You step back again, you can’t breath. She steps forward, a big step and you try to move back but the counter blocks you. Technically you could go to the sides but you’re not thinking rationally right now, all you can think about is Natasha getting closer and closer until she is close enough to touch.

“Are you flustered now?” She asks, her voice low and flirty, nothing you’ve heard directed at you before.

You feel your face start to heat up. “A little.”

“Hmmm, only a little huh?” She asks rhetorically, stepping in so her body is only an inch from yours. “I’ll have to fix that.” 

You don’t know how to respond but you don’t have to because before you can think she’s leaning in and her lips are on yours and you can’t breathe again. It’s the best thing that you’ve ever felt and you close your eyes to focus on her lips against yours. All too soon she pulls back and you pout at the distance.

“What about now?” She asks.

“I-I, you, it, kiss what.” You respond, your brain not catching up to the situation.

She smirks. “That good?” You nod in reply, not trusting your mouth again. “Well then how about we go on a date? I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six from your room, wear something nice.”

She doesn’t bother waiting for a reply, striding from the room with a level of confidence you could only wish to have. You’re left staring at the doorway with a loopy look on your face, startling when Tony walks through it.

“I see you’ve talked to Natasha.” Is all he says, before casual grabbing a snack and walking out. Leaving you to your thoughts which have returned to being coherent. A smile spreads across your face, you have a real date with Natasha!

---

Taglist: @fayhar @stephanieromanoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @acertainredhead @madamevirgo @megaqueenmaeve @cherryblossomskye @thewidowsghost @nyx-aira @stephanieromanoff @stop-drop-and-drumroll @peggycarter-steverogers @casperlikej @wandas-vis @mxxnmocha @king-star​ 

[httpbread]

like like

pairing: mikaela hyakuya x reader

words: 3921

i havent written anything coherent in. some time. also this wasn’t a request but mika is my all time favorite character. my HEART requested this.

-

"Do you and (Y/n) have some weird staring contest that no one knows about except you?"

The question is so sudden, so out of the blue, that he looks away from the aforementioned soldier only to find himself squinting up.

His target takes a step to the side, blocking the sun from his view, but he still blinks a few times before he can clearly make out the boy.

"What on earth are you talking about?" despite no longer staring at the sun, this sight also makes his eyes narrow unhappily.

Much like the sun, Yuichiro smiles down at him brightly. Much more toothily. Though, thankfully, Yuu also didn’t make him burst into flames, which was also a plus in his book.

However, maybe not so much right now.

"You and (Y/n)," he says, his voice uncharacteristically low, further adding to Mikaela’s growing suspicion about this conversation, "What else?"

He says it so casually as if they were discussing no more than the weather. But Mikaela knew damned well this went deeper. A sense of deja vu padding in the from the corner of his mind.

So, albeit reluctantly, he leans over to the boy, but he doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, his ruby gaze leaves Yuu to return home where they had been and often were.

Thankfully, they’re none the wiser about what’s happening, still sitting a couple of yards away from them, their hands animatedly gesturing before them like their life depended on it as they explained something to the Hiragi settled across from them.

He says, very quietly to Yuu, "Did Shinoa put you up to this?"

To which, Yuu responds, just as hushed, "If I say yes will you still tell me?"

He fights back against the small upwards tug of his lips at his friends’ reliable antics as he sits up straight again. Always so honest.

"Mika?" Yuu quickly worries, his voice growing a little higher in pitch as he begins to clumsily backtrack, "I meant- no. Shinoa didn’t say anything. It’s me. I’m asking. Why would Shinoa ask?"

"So, Shinoa did say something?" He muses, mostly just to mess with the ravenet.

As if to further stir the pot, the lavender haired leader’s eyes briefly flicker over to them, coming dangerously close to meeting his own gaze, before focusing back on the soldier before her.

(Y/n) doesn’t notice this occurrence either, now making an odd motion that made Mikaela’s brows draw. Their face is a little intense now as they try to clearly convey their point. One hand was splayed out flat and the other made a swirling motion above it. Mikaela briefly wonders what they were rambling about this time.

"Fine, fine," Yuu huffs, drawing his attention again but not enough to make him look away, only continuing to watch the pantomime of the (h/c) haired individual, "Shinoa maybe- uhm, sort of, shined a light on your problem."

At least, he continues watching her until those last words reach his ears, making Mikaela abruptly turn, "My problem?"

Yet, Yuu only grins at him, happy as ever, meeting Mikaela’s gaze with those big emerald puppy dog eyes without a care in the world, "Yup."

Mikaela only offers him a displeased look rather than an actual answer.

The only problem he had was that Shinoa was poking her nosy little nose where it didn’t belong, directly in Mikaela’s personal business.

(Y/n), on the other hand, was never a problem.

As long as they were smiling- and they often were- he was sure everything was right in the world. Over the months they had spent together, getting stuck in confined spaces, shoving back to back during combat, and even bickering with each other on the rare occasion, Mikaela could probably even write an entire guidebook on how to properly handle and care for the individual.

He was still considering the silly handbook idea when he found himself looking at a familiar shade of (e/c).

(Y/n) was looking at him, he realized, and judging by the teasing nudge Shinoa gave their shoulder this wasn’t something they had originally thought of.

Despite this, their strawberry lips curve upward at the corners to give him a toothy smile. Their (e/c) eyes twinkling as they hold his under the warm sun shining high above them.

They lift a smaller hand and wiggle it at him.

Mikaela does the same, subconsciously smiling back at them, but only a smidgen.

Mikaela had many problems, but not (Y/n) and that was certain.

However, an elbow suddenly burrowing between his ribs does add to this list of dilemmas, "Oooh! Did you see that? They’re looking at you!"

The sudden rise in Yuu’s voice makes him return the favor, except he’s significantly more gentle, "I would have never noticed."

Even though Mikaela is sure they couldn’t have heard his grumble, he watches the way their eyes light up, the hand they were waving at him with quickly darting up to muffle their laughter.

It makes his heart soften the same way it always did, ready to slip through the cracks of his rib cage like slow dripping honey.

However, Yuu nearly knocking his head into Mikaela’s forces him to divert his attention to the believed idiot next to him as he all but theatrically whispered to him- hand cupped around his mouth and everything- "Shinoa thinks they have a crush on you."

Well...

Mikaela sure hoped so.

He doesn’t cup his mouth like a dumbass, but whispers back, "Really? What makes her think that?"

This seems to stump Yuu, because he leans back, causing Mikaela to look over at him and watch as he scratches his head.

The ravenet quickly glances over at Shinoa, giving her a puzzled look.

Mikaela’s eyes draw to the lavender haired girl who catches Yuu’s gaze and makes a face back, her brows furrowing.

Then, he looks back at Yuu who shrugs at her in response.

Before then again at Shinoa who flashes him a scowl. He could practically hear her exact thoughts. Definitely something along the lines of ‘Do I really have to do everything myself?’.

Mikaela snorts quietly. She should’ve known and picked someone else to interrogate him. Almost anyone other than Yuu might have made her some inkling of progress.

"Okay, well, I don’t know about that," Yuu says, as if it weren’t obvious he had no idea what he was talking about, "But I know about you."

Mikaela raises a brow at this, "Me? What about me?"

Those ivy eyes find him, glinting with a sense of determination, "Do you like (Y/n)?"

Mikaela almost smiles.

"Of course," he responds dutifully, "They’re part of your squad. I have to."

A little bit of a white lie but it’s more than worth it to watch Yuichiro’s face twist in distaste, obviously expecting a different answer.

"No!" He huffs, lifting his arms with a flurry to cross them over his chest, "I mean- do you like like them?"

Mikaela tilts his head, looking at his age-old friend under his lashes with an all but teasing smirk, "You sound like some kind of schoolgirl, Yuu-chan."

This only serves to frustrate the boy more, "Mika."

"Yuu," he chirps back mockingly.

His eyes have drifted back to (Y/n) though, who is oddly looking at Shinoa with a disturbed expression, making Mikaela pause. That is- until Shinoa leans forward with a grin stretching across her delicate face from ear to ear. He can probably guess what’s happening there.

Mikaela decides he’s thankful Shinoa chose Yuichiro to interrogate him about this matter rather than taking a go at him herself.

He also takes a second to silently apologizes to (Y/n) who clearly does not have this luxury.

"You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, you know," the boy next to him declares uselessly, "I need answers, Mika."

Unfortunately for Yuu, Mikaela had watched him do a multitude of stupid things for many years now. He had even been dragged into most of these stupid acts as an accomplice and impulse control.

Meaning...

Mikaela could play dumb all day.

"Answers about what?"

-

(Y/n)’s eyes narrow.

They take a step to one side.

The mirror across from them does the same.

(Y/n) takes a step to the other side.

Again, the latter follows in suit, toe for toe.

(Y/n) takes a step back.

They take a step forward.

"Would you stop that?" They finally huff, squinting at their opponent unabashedly.

Shinoa was damn near shameless, asking without missing a beat, "Have you guys kissed yet?"

"No!" They squawk, still unused to her bold questions, despite having been her subordinate for at least a year now.

"Oh, oh! What about this?" Shinoa’s lips curl upward in such a grin that puts the Cheshire Cat to shame, "Has he... Y’know?"

She taps her neck with a delicate finger.

(Y/n) voiced her inquiry flatly, "Has he sucked my blood?"

Her coffee-colored eyes light up in response, so they quickly shoot this second wind down.

"No, of course not," they wave away the idea with their hand, "Do I look like a chew toy to you, Shinoa?"

(Y/n) suddenly wasn’t so sure they wanted to know what Shinoa thought they looked like, so they quickly turn on their heels, "Actually, never mind, don’t answer that."

"Oh come on! You’re telling me he hasn’t put the moves on you at all?!" She asked, as if it were an outrage, "Not even one singular move, (Y/n)?"

They don’t even warrant her with a response, continuing to walk along the cracked and battered street.

After a short meeting after breakfast this morning, they had come to the notion they should probably go scavenging in the nearby area for supplies. They would divide and conquer and be back at the rendezvous point in an hour.

Unfortunately for (Y/n), Shinoa had practically thrown her arms around them and strangled them as she declared them as their partner for the day.

Even more unfortunate, most of the area they had agreed to scavenge had turned out to be inaccessible due to debris and overgrowth, so only forty minutes later they found themselves at the place they agreed to meet at.

Alone.

With Shinoa.

This, of course, was after they thought they had escaped this morning’s weird Shinoa-involved-shenanigan.

Everything had been fine. They had just been talking about (favorite hobby) and (Y/n) had maybe gotten a little distracted explaining the details, when suddenly things took a turn for the worse.

Shinoa had nudged them and brought to their attention Mika was looking at them, and like an idiot, (Y/n) had turned to stupidly smile at him and wave.

...

Okay, so, (Y/n) didn’t regret greeting Mika but they definitely regretted the unprecedented consequences of that action.

Ever since then, Shinoa had been pestering them about some silly crush they had on the blond vampire. Asking them ridiculous questions and poking and prodding and doing the most to mess with them.

(Y/n) could only hope their apparent Prince Charming would swoop in and save them from the she-demon’s grilling.

"At least tell me you’ve held hands."

(Y/n) lifts both their hands to their face.

And buries a very quiet, very repressed yell into them.

Shinoa is, of course, unfazed by this and only giggles at their misery.

"You know... all this would go away if you just told me the truth~"

(Y/n) did know one thing- and that one thing was Shinoa. If hypothetically, they did slip up and say something, anything, they knew damned well that would only result in a million and one more questions.

If Shinoa got even so much as a centimeter on them, she would assuredly take a mile.

So, they find their composure and bluntly reply, "I already told you."

(Y/n) turns to face Shinoa, crossing their arms over their chest and flashing the girl a sour look, "There is nothing going on between me and Mika. I don’t know what else you want me to say."

Shinoa gazes back unwaveringly, holding their gaze like a lifeline, staring into the depths of their very soul as she tried to pick them apart like a broken clock.

(Y/n) is reminded to glance down at their watch. They note there is still a good ten minutes left until the rest of their team needed to be back.

But Shinoa’s sudden rise in voice makes them immediately look back up.

"Well, if it isn’t thing one and thing two," she cheerfully sneers at guests behind themself, making them glance over their shoulder curiously, mostly just relieved to have the girl’s attention off them for now.

They’re not surprised at all to find Yuichiro marching along, fists swinging at his sides with a bounce in his smiling step as he makes his way over.

Mikaela trails behind him, looking nowhere near as amused with the world, seeming a little more withdrawn into his white cloak than usual, like a little hermit crab.

The sight instantly makes their lips quirk upward.

"Took you guys long enough," they greet, more than happy to turn away from Shinoa and all her prying questions to see them, "Find anything good?"

Yuichiro nearly cuts them off before they’re finished asking, "I found a chocolate bar!"

It’s more than enough to make a big smile break out across their own lips, but it’s nothing compared to the proud way Yuu is beaming about his discovery.

"That’s... great... what about actual food? Clean water? Toilet paper?" Shinoa deadpans next to them as the two boys slow to a stop.

(Y/n) hums at this. She was only joking, but she did have a point. Maybe this area was too war-torn to effectively scavenge. It wasn’t like it was uncommon. Sometimes the only good thing to come from a place like this was a really good sneeze from all the dust or a cool looking rock.

But this idea is dispelled from their mind at a sudden rustle, before their eyes focus again on Mika who pushes a gloved hand past his cloak, revealing a plastic bag of what appeared to be some kind of supplies.

(Y/n) claps their hands together, smile returning to their features, "Oh! Nice job, Mika!"

Only for Shinoa to ‘accidentally’ shoulder check them as she reaches forward to take the bag, not so subtly mocking, "Yeah! Nice job, Mika."

However, before they can look away and rebuttal, Mikaela looks up at them, his brows knitting together and flashing them an odd look as if to ask them what the hell Shinoa was on about this time.

And just like that (Y/n)’s annoyances fizzle out instantly, a match dropped into a puddle, replaced by a laugh stirring from their chest as they muster a subtle shrug in response.

They swear for a split second they can see the corners of his lips tug upward before he forces them back down, shaking his head back at them.

Though he doesn’t say anything, they nod in agreement, silently sharing his exasperation.

"Hey, quick question-"

Their attention shifts from the blond vampire to find Yuu squinting at them, brows furrowed as he leans forward to peer at them.

It makes (Y/n)’s brows knit too, mirroring his expression but with worry instead of curiosity as they leaned back in response.

"Why are you covered in dirt?"

(Y/n) groans, quickly reaching up to shake their fingers through their usually silky locks, hoping to get most of the dust out.

Damned end of the world debris.

-

The next time Mikaela got to talk to (Y/n) was hours and hours later, much to his dismay.

It was nightfall now and the Shinoa squad had hauled up in a small easily defendable inn that Yoichi and Kimizuki had stumbled across during their own scavenging earlier in the day. The last few hours had been spent securing it as a temporary base of operations.

(Y/n) had volunteered for the first watch, but claimed the room at the end on the bottom floor.

Mikaela had decided on the room next to theirs and had waited there for an hour and a half until he was sure all the others were fast asleep in their beds. He was sure none of them were skipping out on this luxury, since they usually slept cramped up in the car or on the cracked and uneven concrete.

The wait was worth it because when he silently stepped out of his temporary room, he found the (h/c) haired individual standing outside like they had agreed, poking at a small fire they had started with a stick.

The firelight casts a golden crown on their silky (h/c) locks much like a halo and paints their familiar face an expensive flickering shade as they gaze down at the flame in boredom.

"Long day?" He speaks up, but that’s an overstatement. His voice is almost as quiet as the fire crackling and the distant chirping of crickets filling the warm summer night air around them.

Still, those (e/c) eyes flicker up and brighten instantly at the sight of him.

"You could say that," they respond evenly, a welcome hint of amusement tinging their softened voice as they all but throw their stick elsewhere, revealing to Mikaela their barrel withheld excitement. It warms his heart to know they’re so happy to see him, but he saves them the embarrassment of voicing it.

As Mikaela draws closer to them, the gravel crunches under his feet and also with their own movements when they take a seat next to the fire, quickly motioning for him to sit down too.

He does so, unbothered by the heat that greets him, but knowing their affinity for not freezing to death, being alive and all. Proof in the pudding, they were already shuffling closer to steal his warmth, wrapping their arms around their figure.

"I feel like I haven’t gotten to see you all day," they comment suddenly, making Mikaela look over at them with a slight alarm.

But he forces himself to relax when they nudge his shoulder with their own, listening to their gentle words, "Thanks for coming out."

Mikaela can’t help the small smile that finds him as he nudges them back ever so lightly, replying just as softly, "I wouldn’t miss you for the world."

"Oh, so you don’t miss me?" They snort, turning their face to look up at him blankly under their dark lashes, keeping their face carefully clear.

He scrunches his nose up at their silly antics, feeling the urge to shove them playfully but repressing it in fear of them actually moving away, "You know what I meant."

(Y/n)’s lips upturn with a small grin, "Maybe, maybe not..."

They lean closer daringly, nearly bumping noses with him as they tease, meeting his icy gaze with their (e/c) one, "Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it."

Mikaela indulges them, trying to convince himself that he could resist their charms if he really wanted to.

"I missed you too, (Y/n)," he breathes quietly into the air, lightly leaning forward to further decrease the space between them, resting his forehead lightly against theirs.

They gently push back against his head with their own, playful as ever, "I know."

"Do you?" He mocks, lashes sinking against his cheeks as he recalls, "Because I distinctly remember you telling Shinoa earlier that I meant nothing to you."

This time, they pull back a little to head butt him, adding a smidgen more force with faux annoyance, "That is not what I said and you know it."

"You told her I was gum on your shoe," he retorts, cracking his eyes open a smidgen to peer at them smugly, "You said you’d never seen me in your life."

"I did not, shut up," they whine, reaching a hand up in the minuscule space between them to rest his chin in the area between their pointed finger and thumb which came up to squish his cheeks.

It’s a funny feeling smiling as someone messes with your face.

"Besides, what was I supposed to tell her? The truth?" They utter, looking up at him under their lashes and arching a brow, "Because I’m sure she’d be over the moon if I waltzed in and woke her up right now to tell her that I like like you.”

Mikaela watches them steadily as their hand travels up his face to cup his cheek affectionately, "You like like me?”

(Y/n) smiles at him lazily and he admires the way the fire next to them flickers and reflects in the shine of their lively (e/c) eyes, “Shinoa’s words, not mine.”

He hums, eyes sinking closed again as he melts into their warm touch, “You know, she tried to rope Yuu into it too. Maybe she thought she could cover more ground that way or something."

The idea almost makes him snort, but he holds back, melting further into the quiet moment shared between them.

"Did you tell him?" They inquire, brushing their thumb lightly along his cheekbone. Mikaela didn’t need sleep but was certain if he ever did fall asleep again this would be how.

"Not yet," he mumbles, but saying it out loud lets a small prickle of guilt finds him, "I’d rather tell him when he wasn’t being peer pressured to ask me."

"It’s not like he’s going to notice by himself, Mika," (Y/n) retorts, but he can hear their lovely smile in the way their voice draws.

"I know," he responds lightly.

He turns his head in their hand and lovingly presses a kiss to the soft of their palm.

"Let’s not worry about them right now though. Tonight is ours."

Instead of swooning at his YA romance worthy one-liner, (Y/n) instead snorts, as if dumbfounded, "Wh- You cannot be jealous. They’re not even out here."

Mikaela’s eyes flutter open a crack only so he can flash them a sour look.

To which (Y/n) only pulls their hand away to fondly smile at him in response.

While he cherishes this look dearly, mentally taking a photograph of it to join the many others of their beautiful smile, he tells them point-blank, "Look, if you’re not going to cuddle, I’m going back to my room."

"See, that’s just cruel, you don’t even need sleep!" They argue, even as they wiggle closer to him, but they make sure to ‘accidentally’ nudge him a little roughly.

Mikaela hides his smile by resting his head on top of theirs as he welcomes them to his side wholeheartedly, lifting his arm and his cape before wrapping both snug around their figure and pulling them nearer, eliminating all space between them.

"But you do," he reminds them, patting their side fondly, "Now be quiet and close your eyes. I’ll keep watch instead."

"Quit being mean to me or I’ll go to my room," they mutter, and then add pointedly, maybe even a little quieter, "and I will sleep."

It’s not long before Mikaela realizes the reason why is because they were already halfway to snoozing, even as they mumbled that poor argument to him.

He can barely keep the smile off his lips long enough to press a feathery kiss to the top of their head.

"Goodnight, (Y/n)."

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Gingerbread (Ficmas #1)

Here we go!!! Ficmas day one! Super excited about this - I’ve never done ficmas before! As promised... a little sweet competition!

Characters and their world by @lumosinlove “Is everyone ready?” Celeste asked, standing around her kitchen, looking at the room nearly overflowing with hockey players and their loved ones. “Leo and I are the judges. The rules are simple, you all have to build a gingerbread house, everything you need is right in front of you. The best looking one wins, okay?” 

Remus grinned and nodded, nudging Sirius excitedly. They had everything - including the gingerbread premade by Celeste herself, so even if it looked like a disaster it was sure to taste amazing. Not that theirs would look anything less than fantastic.

On second thought, maybe a group of highly competitive athletes working against each other instead of with each other was a bad idea.

“Okay guys!” Leo called as he hopped up to sit on the counter and oversee the proceedings. “You have one hour. Your time starts.... Now!”

Remus grinned at Sirius, and then they set to work.

Logan knew watching Leo be all authoritative as a judge while he just had to watch would be hard. He didn’t know it would be torture. He was teamed with Adele and Katie, but Adele had to keep hitting his arm to get his attention.

“Logan,” She warned. “I want to win. Now are you gonna focus or not?”

Logan shook his head. Leo could wait. He had a competition to win. “Oui, sorry yes I’m good now.”

Adele nodded, apparently satisfied and Katie drew their attention back to her when she started bouncing in her seat. 

“Allez!” She said, her eyes wide, “Tremzy come on I wanna get to the part where I can eat it.”

Logan chuckled but obliged her, obediently holding pieces of gingerbread in place at the girls’ command as the icing dried.

“Okay, no pressure or anything, but your name’s Noelle so I’m expecting you to dominate this Christmas thing.” Thomas said, only partially jokingly as Noelle carefully piped the outline of their ‘windows’. 

“Um, excuse you Thomas Walker,” She replied, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Okay, but hear me out,” Thomas started as he picked up a piece of gingerbread, and started piping green spikes on it. “We should have pine trees in front of it.”

Noelle looked at him like he was losing his mind. “Babe, it’s a gingerbread house.” She said slowly as if it were a foreign concept.

“I know!” Thomas said, excitedly waving his hands and as he did, his pine tree went flying through the air and landed in Kasey’s hair. 

Kasey turned around very slowly and looked around menacingly, reaching up and pulling the biscuit out of his hair, leaving green splotches and crumbs in its wake.

“Who?” He ground out, and Thomas looked around with a shocked expression. “I have no idea! Noelle? Did you see anything?”

Noelle bit down her laugh and shook her head. “Non. Maybe it was one of the kids?” She said, looking over at Logan’s table to where Katie had more icing on her than the house. Kasey followed her and his vision softened. He nodded once and turned back around, Thomas made another tree and held it up to Noelle.

“They’ll never see it coming.” He said, finally finishing his statement. Noelle rolled her eyes, but in the end, there were a ton of palm trees in their ‘garden’. 

Finn was with Pascal and Marc, all of them particularly competitive and set on winning except there was one little problem… None of them had ever actually made a gingerbread house before.

“I think it goes like this?” Marc said, tilting his head as he stuck two pieces together, the icing going everywhere. He let go and they all held their breath while the biscuits stood for about ten seconds before collapsing so slowly it was actually a little sad. 

“I say we give up and just eat everything.” Finn proposed. Marc nodded, Dumo looked like he was going to put up a fight, but one glance at their gingerbread wreckage had his shoulders slumping. He reached out and broke off a bit of biscuit, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“At least it tastes good?”

“But we didn’t make-” Marc began.

“Shh.” Finn cut him off with a playful wink. “At least it tastes good.”

Kasey’s hair was green and that had been a problem but then Alex promised he’d wash it out himself later that night and well, those words along with the little wink Natalie sent him had Kasey pretty okay with the whole situation. He sat there, smiling softly as he listened to Alex and Natalie chat away while Kasey did all the actual work, creating quite a nice gingerbread house, thank you very much.

Kasey grew up with his dad baking every Sunday and he’d always help. He wasn’t ashamed to say he was quite handy with a piping bag, and Alex was watching with wide eyes as Kasey piped ‘snow’ on the roof.

“How-” Alex stuttered, his eyes focused on Kasey’s hand.

Natalie bit down her smile. “He likes to keep people guessing.”

“I… I’m not complaining.”

“Like what you see O’Hara?” Kasey asked, unable to stop himself from teasing the other man. Alex was as prone to flushing a deep red as his brother, but Kasey found Alex looked a lot boyish when it happened to him.

“I definitely like what I’m seeing.” Alex replied, before cheekily dipping his finger in the icing and smirking at Kasey as he ate it. 

Natalie laughed at them both as she leaned in and kissed the sugar dusting Alex’s lips. Kasey raised an eyebrow, but kept looking at what he was doing, until Alex was standing next to him.

“Open up.” Alex prompted, holding his icing coated finger up to Kasey’s lips. Kasey made eye contact with Natalie for a split second, before doing as instructed, smiling into the kiss Alex gave him after.

“Chocolate was always my favourite.” Alex said with a sigh as he sat back down, Natalie placing her feet in his lap as she shamelessly ate the sweets they needed to decorate. Kasey glanced up to see Leo already looking at him.

“Redheads.” Leo mouthed with a shrug, “Gotta love em.”

Leo had to admit, sitting back and watching the world devolve into chaos was quite entertaining. He could still taste the gingerbread Finn had given him, their house looking more like it had been hit by a hurricane instead of like someone had actually tried to, you know, build it. Logan’s little team was doing a whole lot better, it was looking a little messy but Katie was doing a lot of the icing and well, there’s only so neat kids can be, try as they might. 

Leo’s heart melted as it always did when he would watch Logan with Dumo’s kids. He was just so good with them and they adored him in turn. One of the spare bedrooms in their apartment had been the designated spot for where they would keep presents until they were able to give them out, and Leo was fairly sure half of the room’s contents were just Logan’s presents for the little Dumais’.

“Are rookies even allowed to be judges?” Thomas queried as Leo passed and Leo had fun getting to act all haughty. Thomas looked particularly suspicious and Leo didn’t miss the correlation between the green icing he sported and the little patch of colour in Kasey’s hair. Leo filed that little bit of information away for a day he could really use it.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to get on a judge's bad side, Talkie?”

“Hey, you love me!” Thomas protested and Noelle shook her head. 

“No, but he loves me.” She said looking at Leo and winking. “You’ve got to stay on the good side of your future in-laws.”

Leo felt himself flush even as Logan twisted in his seat to look at them. “Tricheuse!” Logan cried. “Leo baby don’t listen to her, she just wants to win.” He stuck out his tongue at Noelle.

Leo abandoned Noelle and Thomas to crouch next to Logan, smirking. “Am I not marriage material Tremblay?”

Another time, earlier in their relationship maybe, Logan would have scrambled to reassure Leo, probably tripping over his own words so many times nothing actually coherent came out. Now though, Logan just smiled at him lazily.

“The most. I just mean she loves you either way, I think there’s literally nothing you could do that would make her not like you.”

Leo kissed him on the cheek before laughing as Katie wrapped her arms around him. 

“Salut Katie!” He said, standing up to throw her in the air, Katie shrieking with laughter before Leo set her back down on her chair. Leo stood up and began to move away, but not before he missed Katie unintentionally chirping Logan, “Leo throws me high.” She said in a serious tone as Leo snorted his laughter, shaking his head as he moved away.

Regulus hadn’t been sure about building a gingerbread house with Nado and Kuny - he didn't really know them and as a general rule, he didn’t like to spend too much time with people he didn’t know. But Dima got on with them really well and Dima was his friend so here Regulus was, building a gingerbread house in Pascal Dumais’ house. Two snakes in a lion's den.

“Are you sure that will hold?” Regulus found himself asking sceptically as Kuny attempted to build a several story building. Gingerbread house - more like gingerbread mansion if Kuny had his way.

Nado answered instead just nodding his head. “Of course.”

“Fair enough.” Regulus conceded, happy to sit back and watch the proceedings. He glanced around the room, still not quite sure where he fit into this chaotic little familial like team, but happy to be here all the same. More than happy to see nothing but pure joy on his brother’s face. Hope because maybe Regulus could find that kind of happiness here too.

“D’accord!” Celeste called, clapping her hands. “Okay everyone step away from your tables, your time is up!”

The team piled into the sitting room as Celeste and Leo judged all the gingerbread houses. Sirius and James sat on the floor, with Harry playing happily with them. Remus and Lily sat snugly on the couch above them, both nursing mugs of tea and heads bent together as they caught each other up on the events of the last couple of weeks. 

Finn and Logan were having an arm wrestling competition in the corner and most of the others piled around to watch them, all yelling for someone. Logan won, Finn hanging his head in shame and then they were both immediately challenged by the rest of the team, Logan battling (and losing quite dramatically) to Katie. 

Leo and Celeste came back into the room, looking quite smug as they held up a cardboard trophy.

“We have the winner,” Leo said to get everyone’s attention and the sudden hush that fell upon the room was quite comical. 

“Drumroll!” Thomas cried and the room was filled with the rapid thuds of everyone slapping their hands against the nearest object.

“And the winner is…” Celeste drew out, “Katie, Adele and Logan!”

The trio jumped up, hugging and high fiving. 

Logan stood up on a chair and pressed his hands against his chest in gratitude. 

“Thank you, thank you,” He joked, wiping away a fake tear. “We’ve been dreaming about this for, mon dieu, I don’t know how long.”

“You weren’t this dramatic when you won MVP!” Sirius called from the back of the room and Logan winked at him before continuing. “I think Adele had the idea that secured our win though, Adele?”

The girl dashed to the kitchen and came back with their little gingerbread house, the outside entirely lined by little gingerbread people. 

“We made the team!” Katie said, bouncing on her toes. There was a rush as everyone came over to have a look and before long, everyone was grabbing their figurine and eating them.

“Goodbye little Thomas.” Talkie said mournfully before biting its head off.

“Hey, maybe now I can give myself head.” Leo muttered to Finn, who promptly choked, spitting crumbs everywhere as he flushed a deep red.  

Remus leaned back into Sirius as they munched on their biscuits. 

“This is fun. We should do it again next year.”

Sirius wiped the crumbs from his lip and tightened his hold on Remus’ waist. “And the year after that, and they year after that, and the ye-”

Remus giggled, twisting in Sirius’ arms to shut him up by kissing him. “Yeah, baby. I’d like that.”

[subterfugespecialist]

I Will Break What Has Broken You

Janus is the heir of a millionaire CEO. He could have anything, anybody he wanted. And he picked Remus. Remus couldn't be happier with what they have. But when they're out one night and Remus runs into his ex, all the unpleasant memories start flooding back.

Written for Day 4 of @dukeceitweek : Free day

AO3 link

Pairing: Dukeceit

Warnings: Past verbal/emotional abuse, deadnaming - though the deadname is not actually typed out, unwanted advances

Word count: 2861

People were usually surprised to hear that Janus was dating Remus.

Janus - the son of old money, an heir to a multi-million dollar business - could have anything and anyone he wanted. All sorts of people threw themselves at his feet, desperate for both his sharp looks and good fortunes.

But Janus didn't want anybody. He wanted Remus. And that sure made Remus feel special.

Janus had been wary about dating. So many people had been after his family's money, after all. But then he met Remus, who didn't care that Janus could afford to buy the movie theater and still insisted their first date be sneaking into as many movies as possible because it was "more fun that way." He didn't care what kind of car Janus drove as long as Remus could drag Janus into the backseat. Who didn't care how many houses Janus owned, as long as they were together. Remus, who looked past his money and liked Janus for his catty, smart personality.

And Janus was utterly taken.

But sure, Janus having money certainly had its perks. Janus would indulge on any random impulse Remus had. Wanted to drop everything and go on a trip without anyone? Janus would treat him to a private jet (Remus was pretty sure they were the top members of the mile-high club at that point). Had the urge to rent a room in the fanciest hotel in Paris just to smoke weed? Sure. Paying for Remus' top surgery? Remus didn't even have to ask for that one. Janus making his birthday present to Roman paying off his entire student loans for his musical theatre degree? Remus was just smitten.

But one of the best parts was getting to be Janus' plus one at parties, where he'd wear his torn up pants with a hole showing his entire thigh and a neon green mesh shirt under his leather jacket. Security guards would try to escort him out before Janus would take him by the hand and kiss his forehead. He would introduce guests to Remus as his boyfriend and they would always do a double-take. Because that must be some sort of joke, right? Janus dating this man? But Janus would take Remus firmly by the waist and glare at them, daring them to actually say anything. And they would put on their pained smiles and complete their pleasantries before rushing off.

They couldn't be happier.

Tonight they were in a sort of underground club in New York. The music was so loud you could hardly hear yourself speak, and most people there this late in the night were too intoxicated to be coherent.

It was one of Remus' favorite places.

Remus was dancing with Janus, which mostly meant Remus dancing as Janus held onto him, occasionally spinning him around or pulling him close. But Remus didn't mind. How could he when Janus would watch him with such eyes, that made Remus feel so wanted?

Janus pulled his phone out of his pocket and scowled at the glowing screen as he pulled Remus close to him.

"I'm afraid I have to take this, darling," he said right against Remus' ear. "I'll have to step outside for a moment."

"That's fine," Remus yelled back. "I'll meet you at the bar, babes."

Janus pulled Remus into a searing kiss that would usually be considered too heat to be appropriate for public spaces, but with all the couples dirty dancing against each other around them it hardly mattered.

"I'll be back soon" Janus promised before slipping away into the crowd. Remus stood, smiling like a fool for a moment before heading towards the bar. The music was slightly quieter here, and Remus could actually hear himself think.

He hopped onto a barstool, spinning once before glancing at the drinks menu. Then someone sat beside him.

"I'm really not surprised to see you here."

Remus froze as his blood turned to ice. He had to force himself to look to see that, yes, it was him sitting on the barstool.

"I would have thought Janus would be with you," Remus' ex said as he sipped his drink. "I'm surprised he trusted his little plaything to go out on his own."

"How the fuck do you know about me and Janus?" Remus asked, hands gripping the edge of his barstool and making his knuckles go white. "Have you been stalking me like a creep? Just couldn't let me go, Aiden?"

"Baby, the whole business world has been talking about it," Aiden said with a smirk, unaware, or perfectly aware, of how the old nickname made bile rise in Remus throat, "It's some of the best gossip right now. Though I personally thought Janus was above spending his time on such things."

"It's so funny that you think you know Janus," Remus said with a grin that was far too wide. "You don't know shit about him."

"I've worked with him before, babe," Aiden said. "He is much too dedicated to his work to bother with someone like you."

Remus' blood was boiling, and he couldn't figure out why. He never cared before what people thought of him. He usually liked surprising people with Janus. So why did it hurt when Aiden said it?

Was it because they used to be together? Was it because Remus used to try so desperately to get the approval of his partner, but never seemed to obtain it? And it seems like he still hadn't.

"That's a nice skirt you're wearing," Aiden said, breaking Remus from his thoughts and making him realize he hadn't said anything for a good minute, "I thought you'd avoid those, given your... situation."

Remus had finally reached a point where he felt comfortable in a skirt, even after all the things Aiden said to him. But now he just felt exposed. It felt so good, when Janus rested a hand on his knee when they sat or gripped the back of his bare thigh as they pulled each other close. But now, all he wanted was to close his legs and pull the edge of his skirt over his knees.

"I like wearing skirts," Remus defended, though he didn't know how effective he was with the tremor in his voice.

How could Aiden keep making him feel worse? Digging deep into old wounds, breaking newly healed scars. Remus took a deep breath. He wasn't going to let Aiden ruin all of his progress after they had been apart for nearly two years.

"Well then," Aiden said in a voice that instantly made Remus worried. He then placed his hand on Remus' knee and he was very much not Janus and Remus suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. "Since Janus isn't here, how about we relive some old times, huh ******?"

Hearing his dead name immediately made Remus feel like the floor was taken from under him. He stood without another word and forced his way through the dense crowd on the dance floor. The bright lights and loud music were suddenly too much and Remus couldn't breath his chest wouldn't move he was suffocating-

He finally reached the emergency fire exit, which he knew the alarm didn't work because he had seen couples use it to sneak out for quickies. Once outside he immediately fell to his knees, hands resting on the asphalt, struggling to breath as the door shut behind him. He managed to crawl over to sit against the wall through short gasps of hair. Remus held his head in his hands and gripped his hair tight. Memories were flooding back - none of them pleasant.

His chest was too heavy. He couldn't get his lungs to work right he couldn't get air he was going to pass out right here in the alleyway-

"Remus!"

Janus.

"Oh, darling, it's okay," Janus said, panicked as he sat across from his boyfriend. He opened his arms and Remus immediately flung himself against him, gripping tightly to the back of Janus' jacket like a life line.

"Follow my breathing, love," Janus said softly into Remus' ear, chest pressed against the other making it easier for Remus to follow.

Remus focused on the feeling of Janus against him, around him. Janus' chest moving against his own, his voice and breath against his ear. Janus, Janus, Janus-

"There you go," Janus said softly as he pulled back just enough to look at Remus' face. Remus closed his eyes, focusing on Janus' hands resting on his cheeks, thumbs moving in soothing motions. "You did wonderfully."

"How'd you find me so fast?" Remus asked, "Knew I'd be out with trash, where I belong?" he forced out a laugh though tears fell down his face.

"Remus," Janus scolded.

"Sorry, sorry. No self deprecating, I know."

Though it had been a tough habit for Remus to break.

"You aren't trash," Janus muttered as he pushed Remus' hair out of his face. "You know I only indulge myself in the nicest things."

"How can you say that?" Remus muttered, glancing down to avoid Janus' gaze. "I'm far from nice."

"You are by far the most valuable, precious thing in my life," Janus said firmly as his hand moved to Remus' chin to force him to look in his eyes. "And I won't stand for you saying such things about yourself."

"You could have anything," Remus said, mouth quivering as tears fell freely down his face. "And yet you waste your time on me?"

"My time is never wasted with you. I'd give away all my fortune and luxuries that come with it if it meant spending just one more day with you."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, and all your craziness and curiosities. You are the most incredible person I've ever met and you only ever make me happier than I've ever been."

Janus wiped the tears off Remus' face, and no more followed.

"I love you so much," he whispered. "And you are deserving of everything good thing in this world"

"You sap," Remus said as he lightly punched Janus' arm, tears threatening to spill again - but not from sadness, "I love you, too."

"Are you feeling okay, my love?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Sorry about that freakout."

"You don't have to apologize," Janus said as he ran his hand back over Remus cheek and pressed their foreheads together, "But who did that to you? push such unfounded doubts in your head? Because I do have to find them now, and ruin their life."

Remus groaned and leaned back, hitting the brick wall behind him. "Do you remember, a couple months after we started dating, I had that freakout and thought we needed to break up?"

"Yes," Janus said, a touch of bitterness in his voice. "You had the insane idea that you weren't good enough, and I made sure you knew that was not true. You're not feeling like that again, are you?"

"No. Well, I was, but- Okay so remember how I admitted that was because of my ex? Well, he's here. He talked to me."

Janus' expression quickly turned into one of fury, eyes turning dark as his mouth set into a scowl.

"He called me your plaything. Said he worked with you and that he knew you were too good for me. Then he touched me and said my dead name and came onto me and that made me feel so gross because he wasn't you and all these shitty feelings came back and just. Yeah. It was fucked up."

"Give me his name," Janus nearly growled. "I'll make sure he regrets every decision he ever made."

"Aiden Scott."

"Scott, Scott..." Janus muttered to himself, pondering for a moment before his eyes widened.

"Aiden Scott? He said- Working? With me? oh dear," Janus laughed as he stood, hand outstretched for Remus to take. "Come on, my darling," Janus said with a large smirk. "We have some things we need to straighten out."

Remus let Janus pull him up, but the thought of going to see Aiden again was making him feel sick. His nerves were dampened, however, by the strong grip Janus had around his waist as Remus led him over to the bar.

"Aiden Scott," Janus announced. When Aiden looked over his face paled as he glanced between them, "What a chance, seeing you here."

"Hello, Janus, sir," Aiden managed to say as he stood, outstretching a hand for Janus to shake. Janus glanced at it before looking back up and pulling Remus closer to his side.

"I heard what you said to Remus," Janus said, leaning against the bar and examining his manicure. "And I can't tolerate such things, Aiden."

"Oh, that?" Aiden let out a forced laugh to accompany the anxious smile on his face, "I was just messing with him. Like we used to, right?" Aiden cast Remus a desperate look, and Remus couldn't believe the absolute gall of this douchebag.

"Cut the bullshit," Janus snapped, saving Remus from having to say something, "You knew you shouldn't and yet you still had the nerve to speak to him that way, and you had the audacity to claim you knew me. Please. You had the privilege of standing in the same room as me. I would say you're nothing but an over-glorified secretary, but I actually like my secretary. It would be an insult to her hard work."

"Sir, I'm sorry. I just-"

"I don't care about your apology. Do you accept his apology, darling?" Janus asked, casting Remus a soft look.

"Nah."

Janus' soft look fell as he turned his attention back to Aiden, and Remus probably found the immediate shift in tone hotter than he should've - but he really didn't care.

"I could easily have you fired. I could make sure you never find another job with any of our companies ever again."

"No, sir, please, I-"

"But I don't think I will," Janus said, surprising both Remus and Aiden. "I want to keep my eye on you. I want to make sure you don't take a single step out of line again. You can keep your lowly job in the office, right where I can keep careful watch.

"I don't want you here at this club again. I don't want you anywhere in the near vicinity of Remus. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay the hell away."

"Yes, sir. Of course. Thank-"

"Get out."

"You won't regret not firing me, sir. I'll-"

"Get out."

Remus let out a loud cackle at the way Aiden turned and ran towards the front door, stumbling over his feet through the crowd. Remus was flooded with relief from the promise that that asshole would never bother him again.

He looked over to Janus, who was still wearing that stone-angry look on his face as he straightened his hat, gaze following Aiden to make sure he actually left. Janus then turned to look at Remus, and his face changed back into one of reverence and comfort. Remus was filled with such overwhelming emotions he had no control over his body as he grabbed Janus' hands and pulled him towards the back.

Janus let Remus pull in into the single stall bathroom. Remus slammed the door behind them before pulling Janus to him, burying his head into the crook of Janus' neck and holding him tight. Maybe if he squeezed Janus hard enough, he could show him just how much Janus meant to him.

"Hey now, love, it's alright," Janus said, voice much clearer now that the loud music was dulled behind the door.

"No, I'm fine," Remus laughed into his neck, "Fuck, babe, you were incredible."

"Anything for you, my darling," Janus said as he pressed a kiss to the top of Remus' head.

"But why didn't you fire him?" Remus asked as he pulled away to look at Janus' face.

"I figured letting him go would be too easy - over too quickly. Now he gets to deal with me hovering over his shoulder for as long as he can handle it.

"Which won't be long. I'll make him regret everything he ever did to you."

Remus was so overwhelmed with love for the man in front of him - a man who actually loved him for who he was - that he couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around Janus' neck and dragging him down into a kiss.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Janus leaned away with a light chuckle, but Remus immediately reconnected their mouths.

Janus placed one hand securely on the back of Remus' neck, the other cupping his cheek. Remus leaned back into the hand, tilting his head up and letting Janus deepen the kiss. He let himself go pliant under Janus' lips, Janus' grasp. He was completely content to give all his trust to this man. After all Janus had done for him, hasn't he deserved it?

Janus pulled away again, and this time Remus let him go.

"Should we go back to the dance floor? You looked so happy there. If you're feeling okay enough, that is."

And with Janus' arm wrapped snugly around him, Remus found that yeah, he was.

.

.

If you are 18+ and have your age/age indicator in your bio, you can message me for the NSFS sequel that takes place directly after

Thanks for reading! Requests are open in my inbox. Hope you enjoyed <3

[dragonsareourfuture]

Mello/GN!Reader — I Forgive You (Part Two)

⚠️Warnings: mentions and descriptions of bullying/abuse. Please do not continue if you are sensitive about that kind of thing or do not enjoy reading about it.

If the title wasn’t enough of a spoiler in the first place, here’s part two lol. Link to part one is right here!

Later that week Mello unexpectedly announced that he was taking you on a drive, instructing Matt to hold down the fort and put down his video game for at least a couple of minutes to watch the security cameras the three of you had set up overlooking the suspected Kira’s home. Once in the car, intense curiosity filled your head as blaring rock music invaded your ears. You cringed, reaching to switch off the radio so you could actually think coherent thoughts.

“Where are we going?” You questioned now that the music wasn’t in the way of your voice reaching Mello’s ears. “And shouldn’t we be helping Matt?”

“He can handle himself.” Mello kept his eyes on the road, switching the music back on and tapping his thumb on the steering wheel of Matt’s old Camaro.

“You still didn’t answer my question. And why aren’t we taking your motorcycle?”

“Jesus, you ask a lot of questions.”

“I just like to know where I’m going with the strange man who used to beat me up all the time. Is that so wrong?”

Mello let out a sigh. “No, I guess not.” He was almost inaudible over the music. He gave you no clues as to where your final destination was, and you began to wonder if he even knew, himself. But eventually, with a sigh of relief that you weren’t lost, the car pulled into a parking garage after you got a glimpse of a sign for a mall. You recoiled in surprise, but said nothing, figuring he was just using that parking garage to be discreet while your actual destination was down the street or something. However, when you exited the car, a surprisingly eager Mello took your hand and dragged you out of the parking garage and towards the front entrance of the mall.

“Wait— Mello, what are you doing?”

“Just hurry up! Let’s get this over with,” Mello huffed, fighting against your resistance by pulling at your hand harder, coaxing a whimper from your throat.

“M-Mello, stop! You’re hurting me—“

At your words he let go instantly, causing you to fall backwards into the pavement.

“Oh, god, (name)! I’m sorry!” He shouted, throwing his hand out to help you up and freezing when all you did was flinch and hide your face.

Mello carefully retracted his arm and crouched down next to your form. He could only gape wide eyed for a full minute, stunned at the effect his past self had on you. Guilt made itself known inside his chest, weighing him down like his heart had suddenly turned to stone. He wondered if his heart had always been cold if he ever thought of treating someone like he once did.

Mello went for attempt number two, gently brushing his fingers over the hands that covered your face and wrapping themselves around your wrist. He pulled you to your feet and stuffed his hands back in his pockets to show that he meant no harm.

“I...I thought that we could go shopping. Didn’t you want someone to take you to one of those little shops in your town? Well, this is the closest thing we got here.”

Your eyes flitted to the giant, glowing logo above the entrance to the mall. You nodded slowly and took your place alongside Mello as you both entered the castle-like building. Mello asked you where you wanted to go first, pointing you over to a directory and listing a few stores he thought you might like, strongly urging you to stop by Hot Topic at least once during your trip. You agreed, wanting to see why he was so fond of the store.

Once you arrived at the small section that was dedicated to “Hot Topic” you immediately saw what attracted Mello to the store so much. Even the entrance practically screamed “Mello” and the inside was even more uncanny.

The blond explored the isles, offering clothes or accessories to you occasionally and, if you felt they’d suit you, you accepted them. There was still a tinge if tension in the air — as Mello hadn’t seen you in a long time and even when he had, he never took the chance between punches to note your clothing style — the two of you quickly collected enough items to load a truck. Mello shepherded you into a dressing room and, as you tried on different outfits, gladly took back the clothes you eliminated from your mountainous pile, handing you new sizes if you needed them.

When it came to be checkout time, you had two bags worth of clothes clutched in your hands as Mello dug through his wallet, which you couldn’t imagine there being that much money in until he pulled out a credit card. Although the cashier accepted it without a problem, you whisper yelled to Mello, “Where on earth did you get that!?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You rolled your eyes, but let him continue. The cashier handed Mello back “his” credit card and beamed at the pair of you. “Here you are. And, may I add, you two are an adorable couple.”

You and Mello both looked at each other, surprise and uneasiness swimming in your eyes, but acting as a couple would be much better than trying to explain your complicated situation to this poor person who just wanted to complement you.

“Thank you.” You and Mello droned animatedly, hurrying out of the store with your bags to allow the next person in line the check out.

This little exchange didn’t come up again until the drive back to the apartment when Mello asked, “Do you think we looked like a couple?”

“Nah,” you shrugged, rifling through your shopping bags to peer at your new items excitedly.

“So, are you at least close to forgiving me?”

“I might be on my way,” you said in a joking manner, but in truth you were quite serious. A single shopping trip wasn’t going to change much, though it did spark something in your heart when you thought about the gesture. “How did you know?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you know that I wanted someone to take me shopping? I only wrote that in...oh...”

Mello would have hung his head in shame if he didn’t have to keep his eyes on the road. You shifted uncomfortably.

The sound of the engine and the tires against asphalt being the only sound in the car became too much to bear. You reached out and turned the radio on, rock music filling the rest of your drive home.

Mello occupied his thoughts with the next entry of your journal that had embedded itself into his mind. This particular entry raved about the food in your town and how it always smelled so good from the whiffs you got from outside. You wished you could go in and try some but, given your filthy state, the employees would have thrown you out. Besides, what money would you use to purchase such food?

For the next day or so, Mello looked up the best restaurants to visit. Ones that had good yet also fairly cheap food since he blew most of his money treating you to new clothes. Matt would’ve killed him if he found out that their survival money was being spent to simply prove a point to you, but luckily he never did.

As it turned out, there was a fairly well known cupcake shop that resided in the walls of your small town that also happened to be a wide-spread chain throughout the current area.

Mello snapped his laptop shut and grabbed his coat from the back of a chair.

“When’s (name) coming back?” He hurridly asked the redhead, who was busied with his game console and a family-sized bag of chips.

“Uh, I don’t know. Soon. Why?” Matt responded lazily.

You were on a supply run for the bare necessities and it had taken Mello around forty five minutes to find the location of the cupcake shop just outside of the city already. Without any time to waste, the blond wordlessly threw open the front door and sprinted out to his motorcycle parked in the sketchy parking lot outside the apartment building. After revving up the engine the blonde went at top speed in the direction of the cupcake shop, wanting to greet you with the cakes when you returned. This was futile, however, as you arrived back at the apartment from your shopping trip early and waited for nearly an hour before a huffing and puffing Mello came bursting through the door.

Both you and Matt reached for your guns before you realized it was only Mello, startled as the door was practically knocked off its hinges. Mello shielded himself with the white box he clutched in his gloved hands, screaming that it was only him.

“Your point?” You asked, keeping your gun aimed at the panting boy half jokingly before lowering it with a sigh. You gestured to the box. “What’s that?”

Mello placed the box on the coffee table and slid it over to you, knocking headsets and game cartridges out of the way in the process. You peered through the translucent window on the top of the box and your gaze softened. “Oh, Mello...”

“I found that one cupcake shop in your town—“

“You went ALL THE WAY—“

“No, no! There’s another one right outside the city.”

“That’s still a long way.” By now you had opened the box and plucked a red velvet cupcake from the assortment. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I should be lying down my life for you because of what I’ve done.”

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say and peeled back the wrapper on the fluffy red cake, taking a bite. You hummed in delight and picked up the box carefully so that none of the cupcakes tipped over, offering it to Mello.

He raised his hand in protest, falling back into a chair after tossing his coat onto the armrest. “I couldn’t. They’re yours.”

You wouldn’t relent, thrusting the box into his chest. “True, but I’m willing to give up at least one.”

Mello allowed the slightest smile to tug at the corner of his lips, reaching his hand in and picking out a chocolate cupcake with rainbow sprinkles scattered over the icing. He thanked you in a hushed tone as he licked the stray bits of icing from his fingers.

“What, I don’t get one?” Matt intruded. You picked a vanilla cupcake from the collection and shoved it right onto his lips, the icing and sprinkles sticking to his face. “Gee, thanks.”

You giggled and plopped yourself down onto the couch after slapping Matt’s calf as an instruction to get it out of your way or else you’d crush it with your butt.

After happily chewing and finishing his cupcake, wiping off the chocolate residue from his face and hands, Mello directed his attention to his cellphone which had just started ringing. The blond clicked the “answer” button and he pressed the phone to his ear as you and Matt carried on your careless banter right beside him.

Mello listened for what felt like an eternity, yet the numbers on the digital clock by the couch never changed. He hung his head, determined to keep his reaction to what he was hearing secret from the two people beside him as blond strands of hair fell like a curtain over Mello’s sharpened features.

“It can be resolved by having a name written in the notebook?” The blond mumbled, his back slumped and elbow resting on his knee. His words seemed to catch your attention as you cleaned Matt’s face of vanilla icing with a spare napkin. “Well then...if I don’t do it...”

“Mello? What’s wrong? Who is that?

Mello waited for an opportunity to hang up, doing so and gazing up solemnly through his bangs which still covered the majority of his narrowed, blue eyes.

“Nothing to worry about,” Mello assured, sharing a knowing glance with Matt before shoving his phone in his pocket and out of sight, “Just a wrong number.”

You shrugged and took another bite of your cupcake, blissfully unaware of the battle ensuing inside Mello’s head.

When they told you their plan, you had all but thrown a tantrum. It was insane, reckless, and was sure to fail miserably but that didn’t seem to stop the duo as they rushed out the door to execute their foolish plan. Of course they had waited until the very last minute to actually mention to you what was going on, knowing full well that you would protest.

“It’s not gonna work! You’re both smart enough to know that so why on earth are you going!?” You hollered, stomping your foot like a child and throwing your hands about in a fit of anger and panic.

“It’s all gonna work out in the end, I promise,” Mello rambled hurriedly while throwing on his biker jacket and tossing Matt his car keys. The blond shoved his hand in his pocket and felt around for something before he tore it from its hiding place and thrust it in your hands. “Even if I’m not here to see it, you will be.”

You stood in utter shock, having heard him basically admit that the plan was a suicide mission, as the brunet and the blond slammed the door in your face. Their footsteps carried all the way down the flight of stairs until they disappeared. The silence surrounding you seemed to break you from your trance as you tore after them, only to catch up enough to see Matt pulling out of the parking lot and Mello just placing his bike helmet over his head.

Your ears seemed to ring as you clutched what he had given you to your chest — an envelope. Mello mounted his bike, ready to drive off when he saw you standing by the apartment building’s entrance. Though it was tough to see through the tinted wind guard of his helmet, you could have sworn the boy shot you a smile full of regret.

Before you knew it, he was gone in a cloud of smoke.

You hadn’t even realized you’d been crying until the splash of your tears on the envelope caught your attention. As you listened to the retreating sound of a Camaro and a motorbike, you tore open the envelope and pulled out a crudely folded piece of paper. Upon unfolding it, the writing was messy and rushed. You assumed Mello had written it in the few moments that he had before he had to leave. You were able to decipher the chicken scratch nonetheless.

 (Name)—

This isn’t how I imagined formally apologizing to you, but it’ll have to do.

All I ever got to do for you was ruin your life and then give you some lame attempts at making it up to you.

I swear if I come back from this I will take us off the grid. I’ll take you back to your old town and you can live how you’ve always wanted — you can eat in all the dumb little cutesy bakeries and shop in the most expensive stores. You’ll live the life you’ve always deserved and I’ll do everything I can to make sure that happens. I swear to you, if I make it out alive, I can be that person you’ve always wanted you hold you when times get tough and give you advice about some stupid guy you like. Because, even after this short amount of time we’ve spent together, I realize that if anyone deserves that, it’s you.

If I don’t make it out alive then, well, that sucks for me. If that happens to be the case, I’ve collected all that money that I’ve “earned” and used it to get you a plane ticket to England. You can live that amazing life you’ve always wanted without the burden of me there dragging you down and reminding you of some of the the worst times in your life. Just make sure to find me a nice burial site, alright? Or maybe cremate me. I don’t know, whatever.

I guess the whole point of me writing this letter is to say that I’m so, incredibly sorry for everything that I’ve done and have yet to do. My words will never be enough, written or otherwise, but I just want you to know how deeply I wish I could go back in time and fix my mistakes. Fuck the butterfly effect.

Just do me one favor and please live a happy life without me there to ruin it for you.

-Mihael

 You dug into the envelope once more and, sure enough, there was a plane ticket to Winchester, England. He knew he wasn’t coming back.

And, as Mello had planned, you boarded that plane on your own, nothing but a carry-on bag filled with new clothes and his letter to accompany you. The tear stained sheet of paper had worn terribly from how many times you read it. Your eyes scanned over the messily written words during the entire flight, fingertips delicately tracing the indents the pen had made. You tried to be happy for your friends who had sacrificed their lives for the good of humanity, but you couldn’t help but sob silently for the entirety of the flight. You thanked the heavens that no other passengers were in your row of seats, as they might have heard you whisper through dry and cracked lips,

“I forgive you.”

[mypersonmyg]

me and you | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, a smidge of angst

rating: pg

wc: 1.3k

warnings: just a lil angst

summary: you ask yoongi about your future OR yoongi nearly breaks a leg in the university parking lot

a/n: evenin folks, tis the first day of drabble month! i wrote this drabble as a pairing to the ole Nom De Plume couple though it can be read as a standalone if you so choose :D

prompt 1. A - Age. Do the otp+ plan on spending their lives together? How do they imagine their relationship years from now?

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

Nom De Plume

Yoongi’s digits move agile against practiced keys, pouted lips pulling between worrying teeth. Your eyes drink him in, a cool autumn’s eve, the dancing of fireflies beneath a night left to glisten in the wake of a reflective moon. You tug loosened sleeves, sweater hugging against a chilled frame, and legs pulled to your chest with a wistful sigh. His movements continue without pause, but limitless pupils regard you with diversion as Yoongi’s lips betray a grin of unbridled warmth.

“You’re tired,” It’s a statement. His tone is endeared, but his intent teasing, earlier discourse upon the late hour leading you to the abandoned music hall to begin with. 

“I’m comfortable.” Your counter is followed by the lengthening of heavy limbs, voice strained against the prolonged stretch. Yoongi hums, followed by the flat tones of a piano half tuned. You pull your nose to a scrunch, the deafening keys appearing even more so with its echo into the hollow halls. “You’re losing your touch, Min.”

“Very funny, more like these pianos are losing theirs. I swear this place needs to put more budget into the actual instruments,” You’re aware of the serious tone, but frustration flushes puffed cheeks and you find yourself pushing from your seat to pad over to your flustered partner. 

You round slouched shoulders, arms dangling around Yoongi’s taught frame, the perfect view of his fingers prodding at sticky keys. Your lips fall to the apple of his cheek before the burying of  heavy eyes into the crook of his neck, warm from the scarf still dangling. 

“Mmmh, what are you gonna do about it?” You egg him on, arms rubbing the expanse of his sweatshirt. 

“I’m gonna take you home before I have to carry you.” He grabs hold of one of your hands, pressing soft lips to the delicate skin of your palm. He rises on converse feet not once releasing you from his steady grip, “You’re practically swaying on your feet.”

“I’m just enjoying the music.”

“I don’t hear any music, baby.”

“Your voice is music to my ears, babe.” You sing-song, following the light pull of Yoongi’s arm to the door. His groan is exasperated, followed easily by your melodious chuckle, his dark head bowing to the worn linoleum. 

Your path to the parking lot is filled with comfortable quiet, the revel in your respective company enough to fill the minute space between. The biting chill of the evening air pulls you to grasp Yoongi as close as possible, legs forced to a wobble as your steps echo against freezing concrete. 

“Do you think this will last?” Your voice is but a whisper, chords shying away from the wind not withheld by your scarf, woolen fabric itching at your neck. Yoongi hums in response, attention not all there as his gaze travels the expanse before you. “Do you think we’re gonna be together when we leave all of this behind? Or do you just see this as a school thing?”

You find your feet nearly tangled as Yoongi trips over himself. It takes but a moment for you to steady your strides, Yoongi gathering distance as he regains his footing. You’re in the midst of a car-less lot, catching your breath as Yoongi adjusts his jacket, hand brushing through his hair. 

“Are you okay?” You step forward to close the distance, hand easily finding Yoongi’s in silent tandem. He nods though his pupils are blown, you’re sure if the bottom of his face were visible the parting of his lips would give way to his bewilderment at your sudden inquiry. 

“I’m fine I just-do… do you think we won’t be together?” It’s the shift in his tone that clues you in to his wild thoughts. You’re quick to lead him to the car, the reprieve of the heated interior doing little to ease the growth of tension that has wormed between two melded souls. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You stare straight ahead, Yoongi busying with the turning of dials to warm you further. “I just...I mean we’re graduating soon and we haven’t really talked about it.”

“I didn’t know it was something that we needed to discuss.” He’s rigid and you’re mortified, an accidental hiccup in an evening otherwise untouched. Silence stretches over, your body falling victim to the itch of discomfort, the heat suddenly too much. Yoongi’s hands rest against the wheel, his breathing even and audible over the whir of the engine.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to make it a thing--”

“Yes.” Yoongi cuts through your words, not with volume, but sheer conviction. You fight the pull of fabric against your collar, turning to him with ducts threatening to spill over. Despite the words settling like golden leaves against dying greenery, you can’t help but prompt the necessity for unnecessary clarification driving you on. 

“What?”

“We’ll be together. After college and beyond this hell hole,” He chuckles at his own words, gums catching reflection under the invasion of fluorescent street lamps. “I’ve been faced with a reality without you in it and I’m positive I never want to go back to it. You say things like my voice is like a song and my smile is what keeps you going and I don’t always reciprocate but I hope you know that you’re that and so much more to me.” 

“I do, I know.” You assure, hand reaching over the center console, landing against the expanse of his thigh.

“Well, did you know that sometimes I still sit outside of the practice room? I just listen and think about how we got here, how I got lucky enough to be here.” Your head swivels barely coherent, a small gasp conjuring the tiniest cloud from the still thawing vehicle. “Or that whenever I come in for coffee and I see you standing behind that damn counter I think about the day all of this started, and then you look at me and it feels like I’ve been punched in the chest.” 

“I hope you mean that in a good way,” You squeak, still stunned at the ongoing admission. 

“You knock the breath out of me, babe. I guess that’s why I was taken by surprised because if I’m not making you feel the same way then we’ve got a pretty big problem.” 

You don’t bother trying to respond with a  thought of the intelligible, Yoongi robbing you of any possible chance the moment he began speaking. Instead your hands come to grip puffed cheeks, unaware that you aren’t the only one overpowered with raw emotion until you feel the dampness of soft skin. Your forehead pushes against his, noses meeting and breaths mingling. 

“I love you,” Is all you manage and you know that it’s enough. Know that it’s enough because of the way Yoongi’s lips press against yours in an instant. 

The pressure is late night conversations, the occasional peck befalling heated cheeks, it’s breakfast in bed as the threat of a skipped class looms. It’s a pressure that reminds you that your flow is his and his is yours, no questions asked and none needing to be answered. It fills the crevice of uncertainty that cracked unaware beneath your skin, feeding off of remedied events past.

Suddenly too much heat is not enough and Yoongi is pulling away, breath labored and hands once more against the wheel. His gaze is forward and cheeks dusted with lustful blush. He offers you only a glance, unable to hold for longer than a minute without threat of once more closing lengthened distance.

“I should get you home, you have an early class.” 

“Mmmm or you could let me stay over,” You suggest, cheeky nature about you once more. Yoongi’s grip tightens, lip pulling inwards in a contemplative gnaw. “I’ll sleep better.” 

“Hmm sleep, right.” His throat clears as he pulls from the lot. “So...are we good?”

“I was thinking that we could move to the city,” Is your response, the Yoongi smiling straight ahead, hand finding yours to once more grace with the skin of his lips. He doesn’t respond, knows the action is enough as you continue to speak and he continues to listen, affectionately offered and received with mutual adoration. 

“Whatever you want, babe, I’m in it for the long haul.”

[livesincerely]

[Bits & Bobs] we’ll be on the road like some country song

AKA the Run Away With Me Fic

00000

Davey nearly loses his nerve about a hundred times in between dialing the number and Jack answering. The phone seems to ring forever⁠—for a moment he thinks that Jack’s not going to pick up and that will be that⁠—but somehow, incredibly, the call connects.

“‘Ello?” Jack rumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Davey opens his mouth but no sound comes out, his words smothered down by a sudden wave of bitter, scalding doubt. What is he doing?

“Davey? Are you there?”

He needs to hang up. He needs to hang up, needs to stop bothering Jack and let him sleep, needs to pull himself together and just get it over with because there’s no point in putting it off, no point in pretending like there’s anything to be done except accept the fact that… The fact that he… 

He’s holding his cellphone so tightly that the plastic creaks under his fingers, his lungs straining in his chest and his stomach churning and churning. He tries to calm himself, breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, just like you’re supposed to, but it feels like no matter how hard he tries he can’t get enough air.  

“Guess not,” Jack murmurs to himself, voice trailing away.

Panic seizes Davey like a hand around his throat.

“Jack,” he gasps out. “Jackie, wait.”

“Dave?” Jack asks. “Hey, what’s⁠—”

“Jackie,” Davey says again, because he can’t figure out how to say anything else. “I—“

“What’s wrong?” Jack says, his tone spiking with alarm. “Are you okay?”

Davey presses a hand to his mouth, hot, shuddering breaths stifled by his palm. His vision clouds over, his bedroom fading into a shapeless, colorless blur, and it’s only then that Davey realizes that he’s crying⁠, tears streaming down his face. 

“David,” Jack says. “Are you okay?”

Davey’s shoulders shake. He tries to explain⁠—instead, he sobs.

“I’m coming over,” Jack says, and there’s a flurry of movement on his side of the line: the rustle of bedsheets thrown back, the clattering of car keys, soft, hurried footsteps. 

“You don’t have to,” Davey chokes out, because he didn’t call intending to drag Jack out of bed in the middle of the night. He just didn’t know what else to do. “Nothing’s wrong, Jackie, I’m not hurt or anything⁠—”

“Bullshit, you ain’t hurt,” Jack says sharply. “You’re crying.”

“But you don’t have to⁠—”

“I’m coming over,” Jack says, in that voice that says he’s made up his mind and there’s no talking him out of it. “Give me ten minutes, okay? I’ll be right there.”

Davey sniffs, feeling at once horribly pathetic and unspeakably relieved. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to stay on the line?” Jack asks.

Yes, Davey thinks, because the last thing he wants is to be alone with his thoughts. Instead, he says, “You shouldn’t be on the phone while you’re driving. You can hang up.”

Jack hesitates. “Ten minutes,” he says eventually. “I’m already in the car.”

“Okay,” Davey whispers. “Ten minutes.”

Even though he’s expecting him, Davey still jumps when Jack finally knocks on his bedroom window. 

He half crawls, half staggers over. His hands are trembling so badly he almost can’t get the latches unlocked, but he eventually manages to get the window open. 

“Are you okay?” Jack demands as he clambers inside. He’s dressed like he literally rolled out of bed and drove straight here⁠—he’s thrown a thin jacket on over his shirtless torso, the bottoms of his sweatpants wet with dew and littered with grass clippings, his feet shoved hastily into a pair of his mother’s slippers instead of his shoes. “What’s wrong, what happened?”

Davey can’t help but wilt in the face of such genuine concern, guilt and shame spreading like twin frosts across the plains of his heart.

“Jack,” he starts, curling in on himself. “Jackie, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have called you, it’s nothing, really, nothing I can’t handle myself, I’m sorry I woke you up, I⁠—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jack says, stepping forward and taking him gently by the shoulders. Davey’s frantic ramblings peter out. “Breathe for me, alright, Dave? I need you to breathe for me.”

“Sorry,” Davey says again, struggling to do as he’s asked. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid, honestly, I don’t know why I’m being so⁠—”

“Davey,” Jack interrupts, eyes serious. “Nothing that’s got you this upset is stupid. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

It shouldn’t feel like as huge of a question as it does. Davey doesn’t even know where to start, and the thought of having to try to explain makes something acrid and agonizing rise up like bile in the back of his throat. 

“The letters came,” he forces out. 

Jack’s mouth goes tight. “All of ‘em?”

Davey gives a weak nod. “I’ve been stealing them out of the mailbox. I didn’t want my parents to see…”

“Where are they?”

“In my nightstand,” Davey answers. 

With one last reassuring squeeze, Jack goes to look. He pulls open the drawer and unearths a stack of creamy envelopes, each one thicker and heavier than the last: Columbia, Dartmouth, Yale, NYU, UCLA, UC Berkeley... Just the sight of them sends another wave of anxiety rushing through him; Davey hugs himself against a sudden chill, his nails biting into his arms.

Jack flips one of the envelopes over, dragging a finger over the shiny, golden seal. 

“You haven’t opened them,” he says, more of a comment than a question.

“I couldn’t,” Davey confesses. “I tried but I couldn’t make myself… I just couldn’t.”

He doesn’t know how to explain, the feelings refusing to condense down into words. Because they’re just letters, except that they’re not just letters, not really. They’re only the start. 

The start of another four years of this: of working himself into the ground and being miserable, of studying and struggling and grinding and endlessly competing against this idealized, perfected, unattainable version of himself. A version of himself that his parents want him to be, a person that they insist he must become, never once considering if that’s who he wants to be. 

He can’t even imagine spending the next chapter of his life like this. He can’t do it. He can’t.

But even as Davey thinks it, that familiar sensation starts creeping in again⁠—bitter doubt, overwhelming worry, desperate, aching fear⁠—screaming at him from every corner of his mind. Of course he’s going to college. Of course he is, he has to, there’s nothing to be done, no choice but to make his peace and learn to live with...

Another wave of nausea hits so hard and so abruptly he goes dizzy with it, just barely able to keep from retching⁠—not that there’s anything left in his stomach to throw up. 

“Woah, hey,” Jack says softly. He wraps a hand around Davey’s forearm to steady him, guiding him over to sit down on the bed. “Breathe, Davey, breathe⁠. I gotcha.”

“Sorry,” Davey mutters.

“You don’t gotta be sorry,” Jack replies, his face full of understanding. “You just gotta tell me the best way to help you. Do you need me to open the letters for you?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Davey shakes his head, like that might shuffle his scattered thoughts into coherence. “I don’t want anyone to open them. I wish they didn’t fucking exist at all.”

Davey takes a deep breath, straining for calm. Jack watches him silently, rubbing his hand comfortingly along his arm.

“I should’ve listened to you,” Davey admits. “I should’ve put a stop to this months ago. But I didn’t know what to tell them and I didn’t want them to be disappointed in me and now it’s too late, all these fucking letters keep showing up because they made me apply to every goddamn Ivy League in the country, and I don’t know what to do. Jackie, I don’t know what to do.”

“Davey,” Jack says quietly. “What do you need from me?”

“Help me figure this out?” Davey pleads. “I know it’s a lot, but every day my parents ask if I’ve heard back from any schools and I’ve got to come up with a plan before they catch on and I don’t think I can do it by myself.”

He gestures at the pile of letters sitting in Jack’s lap, and as he does, he realizes that his hand is trembling. He lowers it back down before Jack can notice.

“Maybe you can help me sort through these?” Davey suggests. “I just need advice, an outside perspective, an opinion from someone I trust. Someone that will help me pick something I can live with, not just whatever’s most prestigious.”

“But you don’t want to go to any of these schools,” Jack says slowly. “You ain’t even interested in any of ‘em.”

Davey can’t meet his eyes. 

“At least one of them must be decent,” he says, in a tone that’s not at all convincing. “It’s just a matter of figuring out which one.”

“And what if none of them are?” Jack says. “What if none of ‘em are decent? What if none of ‘em are right for you?”

“One of them will be,” Davey insists.

“But what if they’re not?” Jack says, still pressing. “What if all of ‘em are horrible? What if we start looking at ‘em and every one is guaranteed to be four years of misery?”

“Then I guess I’m just going to be fucking miserable, aren’t I?” Davey bursts out. 

He immediately clamps his hand over his mouth, praying that no one else heard. But the house remains sleepy and silent. 

Jack stares back at him, a sea of feeling behind his eyes.

“I can’t think like that, Jackie,” Davey continues after a second, fighting to keep his voice down despite the edge of hysteria that’s creeping into his tone. “I have to hope that one of these schools will be a good enough fit or else I’m actually going to lose my mind. So I need you to help me figure this out. I need your advice because⁠, if nothing else, at least you’re actually on my side. I’m so tangled up at this point that I can’t even tell if⁠—” ⁠

If I’m on my own side anymore, Davey doesn’t say, cutting himself off before he can finish the thought. But Jack looks at him like he knows exactly what Davey was about to say, his expression turning sad and maybe a little angry.

“And you really think that’s what’s best?” Jack asks, voice rough with disbelief and displeasure.

“What else is there to do?” Davey replies, helpless.

Jack’s mouth flattens out into a harsh, thin line, jaw clenched. He stares down at the letter from earlier, then at the rest of the stack, his hands curling into fists against his thighs. He picks one up and at first Davey can’t tell if he’s going to finally open it, or if he’s just going to rip it in half.

Instead, he says, “We could run.”

“...What?” Davey whispers.

Jack turns to him, and the look in his eyes is like nothing Davey’s ever seem before: almost fever bright, threaded with urgency and realization, and speckled with warmth and hints of promise.

“Run away with me, Dave,” Jack says. “Let me take you away from all’a this. We’ll hit the road, drive ‘til the pavement ends, ‘til we’re far away from all these expectations and plans and supposed to’s. Because it’s crushing you. It’s making you fucking miserable, and if distance is what you need to find steady ground and make a choice for your own sake, that’s actually about you and what you want? Then I’m your ticket outta town.”

“Jackie...” Davey says, utterly floored. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, stuttering with something like anticipation and fear and terrible, terrible longing. “Jackie, that’s not… We can’t.”

“And why can’t we?”

“Because,” Davey insists, because one of them has to be reasonable. “Because, we can’t just pack up and leave. It’s the middle of the semester, we’ve got another three months of school left, we’re supposed to graduate, and fuck, can you even imagine the fallout? My parents would kill me, just hunt me down and murder me if I left.”

“I’m still not hearin’ any reasons not to,” Jack says, still looking at Davey with those warm, steady eyes.

“I just told you—“ Davey starts.

“No,” Jack calmly interrupts. “You gave me a bunch of excuses for not going, not reasons. There’s a difference. I’m waitin’ for something more along the lines of ‘my ridiculously long legs make road trips super uncomfortable’ or ‘our friendship won’t survive us traveling together for weeks in close quarters’ or ‘I wouldn’t trust your rusted old Chevy to take us to the state line, let alone any further,’ or how about ‘Jack, I don’t want to.’”

Davey’s mouth closes with a soft click, swallowing heavily around a sudden lump in his throat.

Jack keeps looking at him, and the intensity of his gaze is almost too much to handle, simmering with something quietly fierce. 

“I’m not gonna stand by and watch you kill yourself over a life that you don’t even want. Not anymore. Not when it makes you call me at one in the morning, sounding like the weight of the fucking world’s on your shoulders and you’re terrified to set it down. Not after seven months of watching you waste away right in front of me, moving around like a goddamn shadow, pale as a ghost and hollow inside. Not unless you can look me in the eye right now and tell me that college is what you want. That any of this is gonna make you happy.”

Davey can’t speak. Something’s gone taut in his chest, like a piano wire about to snap. Davey could prevent it. He doesn’t know if he wants to.

Jack leans closer and takes both of Davey’s hands in his own. His palms are warm, or maybe it’s just that Davey’s freezing, has been so painfully cold and lonely these past few months, withering away in the shadow of his parent’s expectations. But the tangle of their fingers threading together is like a balm on Davey’s soul—the spark that reignites the embers of a dying fire.

He’s so tired of being cold.

“I just wanna know that you’ll be happy,” Jack says after a moment—softly, like he’s afraid he might shatter Davey if he speaks any louder, sending the broken shards of him scattering into nothingness. Davey’s not sure he’s wrong. “And I know you, David, and this isn’t going to make you happy.”

“This is crazy,” Davey breathes out, and it’s not what he means to say but it’s what comes out, regardless. “It’s... Jack, this is insanity.”

“Who cares about what’s sane?” Jack says. “Fuck sanity.”

“Jackie.”

“Tell me you’re happy,” Jack says, and the gentleness of the command doesn’t make it any less compelling. “Tell me you’re happy, that you think you’ll be happy with all’a this, and I’ll drop it. I’ll drop it right this second, I swear.”

Davey’s eyes slip shut. He breathes in and breathes out, feeling his ribs pressing against that band in his chest, the last pieces of it holding fast.

“You know this isn’t what you want,” Jack continues. “You’ve known right from the start that this isn’t what you want, you just wouldn’t admit it. But you gotta finally put yourself first for once, Davey. You gotta figure out what’s best for you, and you can’t do that here, not with everything that’s weighing you down.”

In and out. In and out.

“Please, Dave,” Jack murmurs. “Please.”

And the wire snaps.

“Okay,” Davey says, fingers tightening around Jack’s, his lone anchor as the world tilts out from underneath him. “Okay.”

“You’ll—?”

“Let me pack a bag,” Davey agrees.

00000

Tags! @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside, @corbinthecowboy

[wrenhyperfixates]

Loki Odinson’s Guide on How to Woo a Noble

Chapter 1: The Color of Sunset

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: A fellow noble child in the Asgardian court has caught young Loki’s eye. After falling for you (quite literally) Loki has the opportunity to get closer to you. Warnings: none at all A/N: This is the first part of a fluffy miniseries of young Loki and his crush being adorable dorks. Stay tuned for more :)

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue 

Disclaimer: Gif not mine  Loki stared at you from across the Great Hall during dinner. You were, he thought, the most beautiful person in all of Asgard. Nay, in all the Nine Realms. Now, Loki wasn’t so shallow to like you only because of something as skin-deep as beauty. Rather, he was attracted to your sunny disposition and lilting laughs first. Then, as he came to know you, he realized you weren’t always so demure and sometimes had the loudest laugh in the room. Even then, it was music to his ears. How he wished to march up to you right now and hear the sweet melody of your voice. Sadly, a large hand clapping his shoulder brought him out of his reverie.

“Don’t you think so, brother?” Thor asked in relation to something that Loki had not been paying attention to.

“Yes, yes. Certainly,” he agreed, quickly recovering from the startle.

“Hmm, now that is interesting considering you’ve never much cared for hunting before,” his brother remarked, smirking.

Loki cursed under his breath. Obviously Thor had noticed where his gaze was and taken yet another opportunity to to tease him about it. He simply didn’t understand the subtleties of romance. Sure, his brother ran around making out with a different girl nearly every week, but Loki wasn’t quite as popular. Nor did he want to be. All he wanted was your affection, something he was more than willing to work for.

“Why don’t you just go talk to them, Loki. After all, no one can resist a Prince of Asgard!” Thor declared while his friends snickered.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Loki drawled, trying to remain calm.

“Oh, really? My mistake. I just thought you were staring at-”

Loki slapped his hands over Thor’s mouth before he could say your name. Unfortunately, in his desperation to keep his secret just that, Loki abandoned his usual elegant manner, accidentally knocking over his goblet and alerting half the hall to the scene he’d just made. And, of course, you’d been among those close enough to notice. Unlike most of the nobles who had started whispering or laughing at him, you offered a good-natured smile. Though it seemed almost apologetic, furthering Loki’s embarrassment.

“That’s quite enough, boys,” Frigga chastised her sons in a kind yet firm tone, waving her hand to clean up the mess with a spell.

“Yes, mother,” Loki and Thor chorused as Odin grumbled about being too easy on them and not upholding his legacy.

The rest of dinner was dreadfully uneventful, and Loki forced himself to keep his eyes down. The last thing he needed was to be caught staring at you again, especially after the fiasco from earlier. Luckily, it was long gone from the minds of the people by the time dessert was served. Not like anything Loki did really mattered. Not like he would ever be king. He moodily ruminated on this after being excused from the room. Needing some air, he headed out to his mother’s garden. He planted himself at the root of a tree not too far from the path but quickly changed to sitting in its branches after a couple of young lords passed, obviously laughing at his blunder from earlier. Trying to stem the onslaught of tears, Loki closed his eyes and rested his head against the trunk.

“Lupus! Come back here!”

Loki’s eyes flew open, immediately recognizing the voice that shouted through the otherwise still gardens. It was yours. Slowly, as to not disturb the leaves of the tree and alert you to his presence, Loki crawled to peak over the branch he was on. You were chasing your wolf pup through the grass barefoot, shoes in hand. Lupus ran back to you and circled around your feet. You halted to avoid stepping on your pet, and the sudden stop caused you to lose your footing and fall on your bum. Loki sucked in a sharp breath and almost came out of his hiding spot to help you. He was relieved when you began laughing as Lupus jumped onto your lap and started licking your face.

He let out a sigh and edged closer to the end of the branch. Admiring your features, Loki propped his head against his hand. You really were amazing. How he wished he had your carefree attitude. Of course, you were as refined in court as Loki was, but you knew how to let loose too. Unfortunately, he got too lost in daydreams and toppled out of the tree.

“Oof,” he breathed out, shaken from having the wind knocked from him.

You screeched at his sudden (and far from graceful) entrance. Lupus jumped off of you and growled at Loki, baring his teeth in a protective manner.

“Easy, boy. It’s ok,” you coaxed while picking him up, identifying the unexpected guest as Loki. You looked unsure of what to do for a second before rising and making an awkward curtsy-bow combo. “Your highness.”

Loki nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. Here he was on the ground, rubbing his head in pain after falling out of a tree, and you were bowing to him. Or, well, doing whatever that gawky action was. Still, he knew that almost no one else would have paid him the same respect after such a display. Loki got so lost in thought that he just stared at you with a sort of dopey look on his face, not even thinking to pick himself up.

“Are you alright?” you nervously inquired, offering him your hand.

Loki took it and immediately turned beet red. He made sure to pull away once he was righted, but not too harshly as he didn’t want to seem ungrateful. He brushed his raven locks from his eyes and tried to form a coherent sentence. He hated the fact that he couldn’t remain poised around you no matter what he did. He cleared his mind and then his throat before responding.

“Um, yes. I am quite fine. Thank you.”

“Oh, it was no problem,” you responded, setting Lupus back down onto the ground. He stayed right by your side, still not entirely trusting your companion.

“Well, uh, in that case,” Loki dumbly started after an uncomfortable minute of silence and shuffling, “do not mind me. I was just, you know, enjoying the night. I suppose I should be going now. I apologize for the interruption.”

“No apology needed. Feel free to drop in any time,” you said, cracking a smile.

Loki couldn’t help the small chortle that escaped his lips. You erupted into a fit of giggles, too, and slowly it bubbled into full on belly-laughs from the both of you. Soon you found yourselves back on the ground, gripping your stomachs while tears streamed from your eyes. Lupus tilted his head in concern and began licking your hand, which made you laugh even more. Once he calmed down, Loki turned his head and looked at you through eyes still blurry from tears. You were just starting to settle yourself, and he once again appreciated your beauty in the fading light. Soon, you looked back at Loki while scratching your pup’s head with the hand he’d just covered in slobber.

“You know,” you began, “you don’t have to go, your highness.”

“Loki. Call me Loki.”

“Ok then. Feel free to stay, Loki. After all, I’d hate to be the reason you couldn’t enjoy the gardens.”

“Do not worry about that. I actually enjoy it more when you are here,” he replied, feeling a burst of confidence.

You turned your head away and put a hand over the smile making its way onto your face. You said something lowly, and Loki had to strain to make it out. His heart jumped out of his chest once your words registered. The feeling is mutual. Now it was his turn to look away in a flustered yet happy way. He realized it was probably scandalous for the two of you to be out here unsupervised on the cusp of courting age, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Besides, you were relatively hidden from prying eyes by the topiaries.

Lupus came over and sniffed at Loki before deciding he wasn’t a threat, after all. He settled in between the two of you, resting his head on your chest. Another silence settled in, but this time it was comfortable. For a while, you just laid there enjoying the stillness of the night, looking at the darkening sky.

“You know, this is my favorite time of day,” you informed Loki when the sun had almost finished its descent in the sky.

“Why is that?”

“Right now the world is just so gorgeous. Look around: Everything’s the color of sunset.”

Loki did look around before his eyes settled once again on your peaceful form. Everything about you was truly breathtaking. You dazzled him like no other, but he worried he’d never be able to let you know. Perhaps, though, if he were to allow himself to be optimistic, he’d admit his chances were probably increased by this encounter. He hummed in agreement, and eventually you looked at him too, another heart-stopping smile gracing your features.

You laid there in his mother’s gardens for so long that all the stars came out into full view. As you pointed out the constellation for which Lupus was named, a shooting star streaked across the sky. It was closely followed by another, and then several more a few minutes later. On instinct, you gasped in joy and grabbed Loki’s hand. Once the show was over, you became aware of your interlocked fingers.

“Sorry,” you muttered, but Loki squeezed your hand in reassurance.

“Believe me, it is quite alright.”

And so, you continued on hand in hand, swapping stories and making small talk. Loki already knew you were intelligent, but never before had he enjoyed a conversation as much as this one. All too soon, his oafish brother came stomping on the nearby path, calling for him.

“Brother, are you out here? I’ve come to apologize,” he called.

Loki sighed. The last thing he wanted was to end this time with you. You raised an eyebrow and shot him with a quizzical look. He just pressed a finger to his lips, which you responded to with a zipping motion across your own. The silence bought him a few minutes, at least, before Thor came back.

“Loki, come out. Mother is getting worried.”

Another sigh. Even if he didn’t want this moment to end, Loki also didn’t want to concern the Allmother. So, he stood up, and you followed suit, once again holding Lupus in your arms.

“I am over here, Thor,” Loki alerted his brother, moving towards the cobblestone pathway.

“Thank the Norns. I thought I’d be out here all night looking for- Oh! Am I interrupting something, brother?” he said with a sly grin upon spotting you.

“Just some stargazing,” Loki responded with an annoyed tone that made you chuckle a little.

“Yes, but it is rather late. I really should be going now. Goodnight, your highnesses,” you said with a respectful nod first at Thor, then Loki.

Loki was exceedingly frustrated with his brother. Who knows how long you would have stayed out with him had you not been disturbed? Still, he quelled his emotions as best he could and swept into a bow, bidding you a goodnight back.

“See you soon, Loki,” you whispered as you brushed past him.

Now he was grinning like an idiot again, which only fueled Thor’s desire to say something. He knew better than to vex his brother twice in one day, though. Loki was, after all, becoming quite the talented young sorcerer, and Thor had been on the receiving end of quite a few nasty pranks over the years.

“Well, I am waiting,” Loki said once you were out of earshot. When Thor just stared at him in confusion, Loki continued, “I believe I am owed an apology, no?”

“Alright, fine. I am sorry for teasing you earlier,” Thor conceded with a sigh.

Loki considered him for a second. “Hmm. I forgive you then. But I promise that the next time one of us makes a fool of ourselves at the dinner table, it will not be me.”

“Whatever you say, brother,” he laughed, clapping Loki on the back. “Though you must admit, I was right. I am sure that they would not refuse you, my prince,” he said with a mock bow, still laughing.

Loki shoved his brother on the shoulder, though he was laughing now, too. Sure, Thor could be annoying, but Loki knew he meant well. Besides, not much could ruin the high he was feeling right now.

“I suppose so,” Loki conceded.

And, for the first time, he truly believed that he might have a chance.

[owl-with-a-pen]

Nia getting hurt and brainy turning to team-flash for help because he feels hopeless. Ty <3

- I've never written for The Flash characters before, so I hope this is okay! Seeing as Cisco recently left the show, I thought it'd be nice to focus on him. Thank you for the prompt! x

From day one, Cisco had learned that being a part of Team Flash meant staying on your toes, always keeping vigilant for the next attack and always being prepared for the subsequent counterattack Star Labs’ resident tech genius – aka him - could provide. It also meant, expect the weirdest thing imaginable and, then? Oh man, you gotta triple that.

Still, even with all of that in mind, Cisco was in no way prepared for an alien super genius to swoop in from God-knows-where and systematically dismantle his lab, not to mention steal his thunder in the process.

All in the space of under twenty minutes.

"Hey, so I’m flattered you came to us for help,” Cisco finally called out from the lab’s doorway. “But, this might be easier if you actually, I don't know? Talk to us."

Cisco had been watching in bewilderment as Brainy ran around his lab, muttering under his breath as he picked up various pieces of experimental tech with both parts appraisal and derision before throwing them each none-too-gently aside. Cisco flinched when Brainy threw one of his most recent experiments – an advanced interdimensional extrapolator designed in theory to breach the new universes that had been created by Crisis – onto the countertop. And it’d stay totally theoretical if Brainy continued to pay the same amount of care to Cisco’s handiwork as one might a discarded candy wrapper. God, he really needed to start marking these things as fragile - especially when company was over. Then again, he hadn't expected a visit from the fourth kind today.

"Hey, dude, talk to us, c'mon, we won't bite," Cisco prompted, holding up his hands placatingly. When Brainy continued without so much as a word thrown in their direction, Cisco turned to Caitlin desperately, nudging her arm. "Tell him we don't bite," he whispered loudly.

"We don't bite," Caitlin repeated exasperatedly. She’d been watching Brainy with care since he’d barged through Star Lab’s front doors. Because, seriously, could anyone just walk into this place? "Brainy - I understand you're worried for your girlfriend, but we can help you. Just tell us what you need."

Cisco knew that something big was going down in National City, enough that Kara had called ahead last minute to inform Team Flash that they’d be getting a surprise visit from one of the Super Friends. Surprise really had been the understatement of the day. Nearly the second Caitlin had been off the phone with Kara, Brainy had decided to make his grand entrance.

"I don't need anything from you," Brainy said through his teeth, quite possibly the first coherent sentence he’d directed to anyone since his arrival. He continued to move restlessly, shuffling through another pile of technology. "I require your equipment,” he elaborated stiffly. “Since the DEO's destruction, we are rather limited on supplies."

Cisco cringed. "Ooh yeah, I heard about that. Some alien god, right?"

Bad call, Cisco realised immediately. The second the words had come out of his mouth, Brainy tensed, hunching his shoulders.

"His name was Rama Khan,” Brainy said, his voice strained. “He came from a race of ancient beings."

“So, not a god?" Cisco said quickly, glancing to Caitlin for support. When she only shrugged, he fumbled for something, anything, to lighten the mood. “I mean, figures, right? Out of every form of media out there, it had to be Ancient Aliens that was on the right track.”

Brainy made a disgruntled sound at that, dangling another piece of tech out into his line of sight before making to throw it over his shoulder.

“My tachyon filtrator!” Cisco lurched forward, eyes wide. “Hey, hey, stop that!” He snatched his experimental baby from Brainy’s hands seconds before disaster, pointing an accusing finger at him. “No more throwing my stuff, got it?”

"Cisco," Caitlin murmured in warning. "Don't."

"Easy for you to say,” Cisco shot back. “He's not throwing your stuff." Cisco strode over to his workbench, collecting as many of his unfinished designs as he could carry into his arms and very deliberately placing them as far away from prying Coluan fingers as was humanly possible.

Cisco could feel Brainy’s eyes watching his every move, though he wasn’t sure if there was even a hint of an apology in his expression. From the short time they’d worked together in the past, he remembered Brainy as being pretty unfiltered when it came to conversation, if not a little socially inept. Still, he got his nickname for a reason. Dude was literally a walking talking supercomputer, capable of calculating probability to such a high degree of accuracy, he might as well have been psychic. In any other circumstance, Cisco would’ve been eager to pick his brain, maybe even get his input on some of his more complex designs.

Right now, though? Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea, especially when he was so clearly distraught with what was happening over in National City.

Cisco had never formally met Dreamer before, but he’d seen her on the news enough to know that she was incredibly powerful. If something had taken her down, he knew it had to be bad.

And so, when Cisco was certain his tech was safe, he turned back to Brainy, eyeing him expectantly.

Finally, Brainy rolled his shoulders, closing his eyes. "Dreamer was affected by a meta," he explained carefully, lowering his chin. "The DEO had stockpiled technology, archived files on known meta attacks and their countermeasures. We- no, I lost that."

Well, Cisco didn’t need to be a twelfth-level whatever to know what Brainy was going through there. The guilt in his voice was practically tangible. Cisco seemed to remember that the DEO had had a sudden change in management during Lex Luthor’s reign, and if the files he’d been able to hack during that handover were true, then it’d been Brainy who’d been heading operations before the organisation’s literal collapse.

And now, Brainy’s girlfriend was in danger, caught in the crosshairs of a situation that couldn’t be fixed because of his mistake. Cisco swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat; he knew he wouldn’t have fared any better if Kamilla had been in that kind of danger.

"We've all done stuff we've regretted," Caitlin said carefully, stepping into the room. She folded her arms over her chest loosely, her brow furrowed with concern. "Look, maybe we don’t know each other very well, and maybe we can't even help advise you, but you clearly came here looking for something in particular so, we can at least supply you, right?” When Brainy turned towards her, eyes glimmering, Caitlin offered a gentle smile. “No one knows this lab's layout like Cisco, and if you need medical supplies, I've got you covered." Brainy held very still as Caitlin crossed the room and, when she was close enough, she reached out, hesitantly patting him on the shoulder. For all the confidence she was boasting right now, Cisco was far too aware that this was the closest alien encounter she'd had since meeting Kara, and for a lot of that time she'd been fronting as Frost.

"It's an extensive list," Brainy said warily. He didn’t shrug away from Caitlin’s touch, at least, which Cisco took as a small victory.

"Hey,” Cisco said, puffing out his chest, “you’re talking to Team Flash, here. I think we can handle it.”

Brainy’s eyes darted away from them both for a long moment, scanning empty air. When he blinked back into reality, he nodded, bowing his head. "Very well," Brainy relented.

With that, he made a vague gesture towards his head, pointing underhandedly with two fingers towards Cisco's pocket. In the same instant, his phone buzzed twice against his leg, indicating a text notification. Cisco fished it out of his pocket in confusion.

"I have transferred everything I need to your phone,” Brainy said by means of explanation.

“Huh. So you have,” Cisco said, eyes wide as he stared at the list of tech, trying very hard to keep his cool instead of grinning like an idiot at that awesome display of alien superpower. Maybe once he’d finished locating this stuff for Brainy, putting together the right machine to help his girlfriend, he’d have a chance to actually ask him some questions.

For now though, finding all this stuff took priority.

Cisco bit his cheek, nodding firmly. “Alright then,” he said, cracking his neck. “Looks like we should get started.”

Even though Brainy’s returning smile was pained, it was still a smile, which was definitely progress.

And hey, maybe Cisco would see a genuine one once Dreamer was safe and sound. Because he was gonna make sure that happened.

After all, that was what Team Flash was all about.