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depressedhouseplant · 5 months

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🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 105 🔞

Prompt: Sunwoo x Julie (Kiss of Life) / Sunwoo’s belated birthday post / Straight Sex pt 4 (?)

Tags: Unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), sex work, drinking, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms

A/N: Thank you for the request(s) & I hope I did your idea justice 💕

“Why are we going out when it’s balls ass cold and I could be working on improving my LOL level?” Sunwoo asked as the group entered the club, kicking the snow off their boots and shucking off outer layers.

“Because our baby is finally old enough to drink and get a lap dance,” Kevin pinched Eric’s cheek and Eric swatted at him.

“You know he’s not into girls, right?” Juyeon pointed out.

“Some of us are,” Younghoon added.

“You’re into anything with a nice ass and a pulse and I’m pretty sure the pulse is optional,” Chanhee said. Younghoon reached over and hit him in the shoulder.

They made their way to a table that Sangyeon had reserved. Girls were milling around in various states of undress, but none of them caught Sunwoo’s eye. There was only one girl Sunwoo had his eye on and had for months. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he bumped into one of the girls.

“Shit, sorry, are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” a familiar voice replied. As his eyes adjusted, he recognized the girl standing in front of him. She was wearing a full face of makeup, the stripper version of a schoolgirl outfit, and heels. Definitely not the sweatpants, no makeup, and hair in a bun held up by a pen Julie Han that he regularly crushed on in his advanced math class.

“Julie?” he asked.

“Ruby,” she corrected. “At least when I’m working.”

“But you are…” Sunwoo trailed off.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“I had no idea,” he said.

“That’s kind of the point,” she told him.

“I can leave you alone if I’m gonna, like, blow your cover or something,” he replied.

“Do you want a dance? I can give you one for a discount,” she offered.

“My friends got a table since it’s our youngest’s 21st birthday, so I think they’re probably gonna drink more than anything, but they were threatening to get him a dance,” Sunwoo told her.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Julie (Ruby) said. Sunwoo considered her offer. She was willingly offering to take her clothes off in front of him. Of course, it was her job and he’d pay her for it, but he was still having trouble processing this fact.

“Yes, I’d like a dance,” he finally decided.

“Then follow me,” she took his hand and led him back to an area lined with booths. She sat him down in one and closed the door.

“I normally charge $50 for a private dance and the panties have to stay on, but I’ll give you half off. Panties still have to stay on or we lose our liquor license. Apparently pussies out means you can’t have booze,” she shrugged.

“I can give you $50, wait, should it be $60? For a tip?” Sunwoo pulled out his wallet and looked up at her.

“I’ve never had a man insist on paying full price and tipping me when I offered him less,” she laughed a little.

“I know how expensive school is. I assume that’s why you’re here,” he replied.

“A big part of it, yes,” she nodded.

“Then here’s $60,” he handed her the money. She looked at it for a moment before putting it in the string of her panties.

“You can choose to have music or not. It’s the buttons on the wall,” she pointed.

“Do you have a preference?” Sunwoo asked.

“You’re definitely the most considerate client I’ve had in a while,” she laughed and pushed a few buttons, starting a song that was popular at the moment. “You ready?”

“Yes,” he nodded. Julie (Ruby) began to slowly move with the music, first pulling her hair out of the ponytail and ruffling it loose. Then she slowly unbuttoned the top and let it drop to the floor, revealing a lace bra underneath. She reached behind her to unzip the skirt and stepped out of it now standing in just her underwear and high heels. Sunwoo gripped his pants tightly to keep from touching her and to rein in his erection.

“You can touch me,” she said. “The only off limits is between my legs.”

“So I can touch your -,” Sunwoo was cut off by Julie (Ruby) removing her bra and releasing her tits almost directly in front of his face.

“Tits? Yes, you can touch my tits,” she grinned as she put her hands on his thighs and leaned forward. Sunwoo tentatively reached up and ran his hands up her sides before resting his hands on her chest. By this point his brain was akin to a microwave someone had thrown a fork into. Julie (Ruby) grazed her hand over his crotch and smirked.

“Too bad we’re a reputable club or I’d take care of that for you now,” she said.

“How?” he asked before thinking.

“Probably suck you off, but riding you also seems reasonable. I’m really not picky which hole your cock ends up in as long as it does,” she told him. She continued to snake up and down his body, letting his hands roam all over her skin until they heard a ding.

“Time’s up,” she told him. “Do you have your phone?”

“Uh, yeah,” he managed to fish it out of his pocket even with the massive boner he had. He handed it to her and she entered her number.

“I get off at 2. Expect a message around then,” she told him.

“Okay,” he nodded.

“And if you really need to take care of that, guys jack off in the bathroom all the time,” she added.

“Right, thanks,” he said.

“See you soon,” she kissed his cheek before exiting the booth fully clothed. It was gonna be a long 3 hours.

The boys started interrogating Sunwoo when he finally got to the table after finishing himself in the bathroom.

“One of the girls offered me a dance, so I took it,” it wasn’t a lie. Julie had offered him a dance and it wasn’t his fault he thirsted after her looking like a regular college student much less sex incarnate.

Sunwoo tuned them out after that, opting to drink and check his phone every 10 minutes. Finally the message he was waiting for popped up.

Jules💎: Changing & then I’ll be ready to leave. Meet me out front in 5?

“I gotta go,” he announced. “I’m tired.”

The rest of them looked at him suspiciously, but didn’t say anything. By the time he got his warmer layers on, Julie was waiting outside for him. She looked more like the girl he knew bundled up in a coat and hat barefaced.

“Hey,” he smiled.

“Hey,” she smiled back. “I live pretty close to here and I don’t have a roommate so I thought you might be up for going there?”

“Sounds great,” Sunwoo agreed.

“So did you end up finishing yourself in the bathroom?” she asked as they walked.

“Yes. I haven’t had to do that since middle school,” he gave her a look. She laughed.

“It’s not my fault you got that hard. Most guys get a semi, but you were ready to go,” she said.

“And it’s not my fault I’ve had a crush on you for the entire semester only to discover you’re a stripper,” Sunwoo countered.

“Really?” she looked over at him.

“The guys are actually really annoyed by the fact I haven’t asked you out yet,” Sunwoo told her.

“So why haven’t you?” she asked.

“I assumed you either already had a boyfriend or you’d turn me down. You’re way out of my league,” he replied.

“Joke’s on you, I guess. Now you know your crush is a stripper,” her voice took on an edge to it that Sunwoo didn’t like. He stopped and turned to face her.

“Whatever happens tonight whether it’s a one time thing or we decide to pursue something, I respect your judgment. If you decided this is the best way to earn money, I trust you. Would I be a little jealous that strangers get to see you naked, too? Yeah. But I trust that if we were in a relationship that you’d only do what was necessary and I’m the one you come home to. Fair?” he explained.

“Fair,” she agreed. “This is me.”

Julie once again led him into the building, up the elevator, and to her apartment. Once they were out of their boots and layers, Sunwoo couldn’t stop himself. He kissed her, savoring the taste of her mouth against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss.

“Now you can see my pussy and I won’t even charge you,” she teased.

“Aren’t I lucky?” he grinned. Their clothes littered the way to the bedroom and they flopped onto the bed naked and horny. Sunwoo traced Julie’s folds with his fingers, smiling at every twitch or moan.

“You’re soaked,” he observed.

“Maybe I’ve had a little crush on you too,” she replied.

“Is that so?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I’ve had a crush on you too,” she confirmed.

“I admit this isn’t exactly how I envisioned us finally fucking, but it’s pretty good,” Sunwoo said as he slid 2 fingers into Julie’s soaked hole. He began working all her sensitive spots while massaging her clit with his thumb.

“If you keep that up I’m gonna come,” she moaned.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sunwoo grinned down at her, increasing his pace. Julie squirmed under him as he pushed her closer to her release.

“Come on, baby. Come for me like a good girl,” he breathed next to her ear. With a loud keen, Julie came all over his hand. “Beautiful.”

He wiped his hand on the corner of the sheets then entered her still shaking cunt.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” she grunted.

“I think you can take me,” he leaned down to kiss her. She held his face, kissing him back ferociously. She bucked her hips in time with his thrusts, their bodies moving in perfect tandem with each other.

“Come in me,” she begged.

“Even though…?” Sunwoo asked.

“You heard me,” she replied.

“Of course,” he agreed. Julie locked her legs behind his lower back, holding him in place as he started to come. The first few spurts of hot come sent her over the edge a second time.

“Holy shit. That was the best sex I’ve ever had,” she panted when they finished.

“Me too,” Sunwoo agreed.

“I’m glad I have an understanding boyfriend,” she ventured.

“I’m glad I have an amazing girlfriend,” he replied.

“So we’re gonna try this?” she asked.

“I’m up for it if you are,” Sunwoo told her.

“Then let’s have a shower and go to sleep. I’m exhausted. Boyfriend,” Julie said.

“Good idea, girlfriend,” Sunwoo’s face hurt from smiling.

#just fucking write 2k24 #minors dni #the boyz fanfic #kiss of life fanfic #the boyz smut #kiss of life smut

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wordsfromthedying · 7 months

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“I have questions”

On the edge of slumber, a voice came to me. “I have questions” it boomed. And with its words, it took the room in which I lay transported to lay alone; outside the windows of my room now expanded the vast stars. The endlessness outside. As I got up, hinging at the waist, and pulling my legs up to my reside close to my chest. Sitting at my bed’s end was a large figure, one who had to duck their head slightly to fit in the room, which now felt so small. Their features, hard to make out, either encased in shadow or un-viewable by my eye. Hair seeming to be dreaded with an assortment of charmed additions. Form muscular, certainly larger than the human form would permit. I smiled as the depictions of the ghost of Christmas present came to mind—a comparison the figure in front of me surely wouldn’t care for.

“Sure,” I responded simply. My dreams often weren't this real; they always felt like I was at a distance from being an active participant, worlds away, but the fear of any reality of the situation didn’t concern me. I was interested. A godly figure had questions. And though it may be some egotistical amalgamation of mine, it was better work than I’d seen my mind capable of before.

The shadowed figure seemed surprised at my willingness. We sat for a moment. I kept my eyes looking up at them, worrying about their neck in that position.

“I’ll be just fine, but thank you for your concern. And you are not the first to make the comparison.” The voice broke through my thoughts.

My eyes became alight. How fun.

“As much as I enjoy, I’d prefer we keep the conversation out here.” Clearing my mind of any thoughts in an attempt to force a thought underived from my own. We stayed blinking, the air somehow beautifully crisp in these walls.

“Why are you not concerned?” the voice asked, as it weaved through the crisp morning-like air between us. “Concerned about what?” I respond, the words far less elegantly reaching their ear. “Death, my dear, how are you so unconcerned by your eventual fate?” With clarity, I understood, and pondered. The figure in front of me seemed to need a response, as if I were not the only one they asked. As if I were only a stop on this journey of a question. A powerful being, one that a human like me may turn to for questions that burden their souls, asks humans instead. I looked out at the window beside me, and the endless dotted lights and colors in the space around me as I pondered the question. Before concluding, I looked up at the figure above. “Can we?”, I asked while gesturing out the window. A nod was offered. With that, I opened the window beside me, and as my frame made its way out the window, I began to float, leaving the weighted pressure of the room in exchange for the crisp space all around. Once out, the roof of my room floated off as the figure in full form rose, and came to glide beside me, as I was mesmerized by what was around. As we ventured through the great unknown, past beauties unimaginable, I pondered. This didn’t seem to be a routine check-in; the figure beside me wanted answers. Needed them.

“I suppose when I was young, not existing didn’t sound so bad; returning to this seemed a better fate for the atoms of me than me.” Their disappointment in my response was apparent. A disappointment I hoped to break. “But, even now as life has become more precious, I accept my fate,” I spoke as we continued seemingly indiscernibly fast amongst the vast beyond, the bright, certainly eye-singeing stars, and the clouds of color and shape, but no resistance or air to blow our hair behind us. We simply floated as if underwater. The space open to be explored. “I have no claim over death, but even if I did I don’t feel I’d enjoy it much. Death is something so many are certain they want power over, but I expect there is a line. A point at which that endless time turns to a sorrowful fate. I’d prefer to miss over growing board.”

“Apathy sullies all souls, given time” Their voice reverberated within me.

I simply nodded in agreement. “Are you sullied?”, I inquired, turning to look at the very humanoid figure beside me, the one who no longer seemed so grand. They simply looked at me, their eyes distancing, before nodding and looking away. I had many questions for this being, which I began to feel sorrowful for. But I wanted to be cautious, my curiosity not outwaying their potential discomfort. “You may ask” it spoke, continuing to look ahead. Away from my eye. In turn, I nodded looking at them before looking ahead.

“I have questions”

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#WPW #you #you are the universe

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yeehawbvby · 2 years

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Falling Away With You | Ch. 10

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Seb infodumps on you a little. Also, tension go BRRRRRRRR

Author’s Note: I'm sorry in advance for the way I formatted text messages. Tumblr's editor is hard and I gave up.🧍

Edit: Messed with the texting portion again. It's still sloppy, but hopefully y'all like it better. ^^"

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

At least Seb isn’t pushy, I’ll give him that. Sure, he’s awfully present today, but he hasn’t done anything to make me actually uncomfortable. I enjoy spending time with him, hormones and confusion and all.

I finish straightening my hair relatively quickly, and decide this look isn’t complete enough without a necklace. I grab one from my drawer — a black leather choker, with a faux pearl in the middle — and clip it around my neck. I take a deep breath, and march back out of the room, ready for whatever sweet or sexy Seb is going to hit me with this time…

Aaaaand he’s gone.

I still smell tobacco, though. I step out onto the porch and see exactly what I’d hoped and expected.

“Your breath is probably gnarly right now,” I half-joke.

“What, you don’t think morning breath, coffee and cigarettes mix well?”

I shudder at the thought. “Y’nasty…”

He takes me in for a moment, wordlessly. Making me feel all shy. “Your hair looks nice today,” he dreamily grins.

I mutter out a wimpy thank you, playing with and inspecting the ends of my hair. I should trim this soon, it’s getting a bit dead.

Seb leans against the banister and runs his fingers through his own messier tresses. I’m seeing his forehead for the first time, and it doesn’t disappoint. I wonder if he’d ever wear a headband or hair clips.

“So,” he blows out some smoke, “since you haven’t kicked me out, I’m gonna do it myself after I finish this.”

“Lame,” I respond, trying not to sound as disappointed as I feel.

“What, can’t get enough of me?”

He sounds so cocky… no, I can’t, actually, you mother fu— actually, y’know what? Kill ‘em with kindness, they say.

“No,” I smile.

He smiles too, widely, almost looking sort of giddy. A faint blush forms across his cheeks.

“What?” I laugh, leaving my spot near the steps to lean against the same railing he’s occupying.

“I just… didn’t expect that.” He looks down at the cigarette between his fingers and continues, picking the nail polish on his thumb. “You’re sweet.”

I ruin the moment, playfully elbowing his side. He nudges me with a hip bump.

Until he finishes his smoke, we don’t say anything. Neither of us are fans of sun, but we seem to be basking in it. Together. Well, to a certain degree. As long as I have a hand up to block some light from my weak sensitive baby eyeballs, I’m solid.

Once Seb’s finished, he walks to the steps to put it out in the dirt, and then fucking pockets it. Can’t that still potentially burn a hole? Whatever. I’ll order an ashtray for when he’s around here. He walks down the stairs and heads to the right, towards the backwoods that’ll take him home.

“So uh,” Seb says loud enough that I can hear, walking backwards so he can see me. “See you in a bit?”

A bit? I nod calmly, but can’t control the smile I break into. It’s fucking rad that he wants to be around me just as much as I want to be around him. I lean onto the banister closest to him, trying to seem cooler than I feel, as I respond.

“You should come back once you’re, like, decent or whatever.” I hope I don’t sound too desperate.

He stops, biting his lip and looking to the sky, seeming to think about it. “Nah. I have work to do.”

Oh. Aw…

“ You come to my house,” he demands.

Oh!

“Yeah, sounds good, dude.”

“I’ll text you when I’m ready, yeah?”

“‘Kay.”

He waves and turns around, I wave and watch him leave for a second in disbelief. If there’s anything I distinctly remember him — and, like, everyone else — mentioning, it’s that he prefers to be alone. Like, he really values his privacy.

What’s making me the exception to that? It’s not like I’m anything special. Sure I look decent, I guess. Decent enough that I’m a hot commodity in the valley as we established earlier. But that’s just eye candy. Does he really just feel that safe around me, that we can just vibe so easily together? That shpeel of his yesterday, about feeling cozy around me… it wasn’t just a fluke?

I grin at the thought. Turns out, it’s nice to feel valued. Who knew?!

While I wait for Seb to get ready, I’ll eat something and get started on some more designs for Mooncrest. Feeling antsy, I go for a walk to the saloon for some takeout instead of cooking. I grab a caesar salad with avocado and a soda, tip and thank Gus, and head back out.

I immediately feel something hard bounce against my leg upon exiting.

“Ow…” I mumble. I look down, and there’s a gridball rolling down the stoop and away from my feet.

“Sorry, beautiful.”

Oh dear god no…

I ignore the apology, looking over at the creep slowly approaching me. “Hello, Alex.”

There's always one or two dudes from everyone’s graduating class that never seem to leave their hometown. Bragging about being on varsity lacrosse or whatever when they’re going on 20, even 30. Hitting on local teenagers and young-looking adults alike, because of that weird BaReLy LeGaL fetish so many men seem to have while being in denial of their own rapid aging. Wearing old merch that screams their school spirit will never die.

Alex is that guy.

“I guess I need to work on my form, huh?”

I fake a laugh and hum my affirmation, readying myself to walk away.

“You excited for summer?”

Bro.

“No, not really,” I flatly answer.

“Yo, you’re wild,” he laughs, “summer is the best.”

“Different strokes for different folks, I guess.”

“Yeah. Funny you say stroke, I’ve been working on my backstroke over at the bathhouse.”

“Very cool, Alex.” My voice is absolutely dripping with sarcasm. He apparently has no idea.

“I can show you sometime, maybe you could come to the beach with me.”

Pass.

“We can work on our tans together, don’t want to look all pasty!”

I like pasty. Wait. He’s still talking?

He gasps, eyeing me ravenously. “Do you have a bikini?”

...Ew.

“Why don’t we make these plans another time,” I lie, wishing to spew out all the rude things I’ve been thinking while he rambled to me. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Oh, right! I’ll see you around then, gorgeous!” he winks.

I sure hope not!

I swiftly turn on my heels and walk back towards the farm, feeling icky after that interaction. Alex seems nice at face value, but something just seems so off, so… nasty, about him.

When I make it home, Cannoli greets me by throwing up a few leaves next to my feet. Hello to you too, fucker. I carry him to his indoor water bowl, hoping he’ll rehydrate, and then I quickly clean up his little mess.

Yoba’s sake, I wanted to get some planning done before going to Seb’s. Coworking is nice, but I don’t know how diligent he’ll actually be. Will we really just coexist and do our jobs in the same room together, or is he gonna be goofy? What if I’m the one who feels goofy? Coding takes a lot of focus, though. He wouldn’t invite me over to hang out while he works if he minded the company.

Maybe I’m overthinking... I’m sure I’ll be fine.

After planning some ways to lay down a path and deciding where to put my animals when that time comes, my phone buzzes.

Sebastian > i don’t smell anymore

< thank yoba

< see you in like 20?

Sebastian > fuck you lol

> sooner

< what? why?

Sebastian > wanna see you

< ha, gross

Sebastian > -__-

< ;)

< omw

Sebastian > good girl

I squeak, blush, and feel my entire body heat up instantly as I read that last text. Great, he unlocked a praise kink I didn’t know I had. If he ever says that to me out loud, I’m going to melt on the spot. And now that he’s aware of the effect he has on me, he’s gonna love that shit.

I happily flap around my hands a little bit to shake out the nerves and the horny, shove the last few bites of salad into my mouth, and prepare to head out. I grab my satchel and throw in it my unopened Joja Cola, my supplies, and whatever I had stashed in the fanny pack I used yesterday.

Next, I slip on some black Vans, but stop myself from leaving, realizing I forgot something. Gotta give Cannoli his ritual goodbye pets. Because I’m not a monster.

__________________

“Hey (y/n)! Have a good walk?” Robin greets me from her desk.

“Yeah, I’ll never get tired of the views around here!” I hate this sort of small talk.

“Of course, me neither. What can I do for ya?” Right to business! It’s like she read my mind. Guess the spirits are feeling okay today.

“Nothing for now,” I say, walking to my usual spot across from her. “I’m actually here to see Seb.”

I rub the back of my neck, hoping she doesn’t react. It’s different seeing her now that I know her “plans” for us. I feel a little more on-edge.

She smirks. Oh god. Robin and Seb don’t resemble each other very much, but I can see exactly where he got that look from. She leans over the desk, looking like she’s ready to make a deal or some shit. Very Godfather-esque.

“Sebby’s taken quite a liking to you, hasn’t he?”

I shrug. “I hope he has. Would be kinda awkward hanging out with him if he didn’t,” I nervously laugh.

“Mhm,” she grabs her wooden mug — did she make that herself? — and takes a sip, eyeballing me. “You two have fun last night?” she interrogates. I squint at her and feel a blush creep up on me instantly. “I just want to know what you two were up to! No judgment!”

“I mean,” I shove my hands in my pockets and fiddle around with the fabric, “he walked me home, played with Cannoli while I made him some hot chocolate, and we fell asleep watching a movie. Nothing too fun or exciting.”

Robin hums. “Ok, ok, sounds like a good time… anything else?”

Robin narrows her eyes, with the same menacing grin on her face that her son sometimes shoots my way. She looks like she wants me to say more.

I’m noticing now how odd it is that I’m friends with a mother and son duo. She wants some hot gossip about my night, as any friend and lower-middle-aged woman would. I get it, truly. But at the end of the day, she’s my crush’s mom, for fuck’s sake!

“Robin.”

“(Y/n).”

I lean in and lower my voice, hoping her husband and daughter won’t hear from their lab across the hall. “Are you trying to imply that you think I had sex with your son last night?”

She matches my volume, “I’m just sayin’, he could do a lot worse!”

“Robinnnnn!” I desperately whine, facepalming. She snickers to herself. I point at her in the same way that some people point towards their dogs when scolding them. “We didn’t.”

She snaps, “Drat.”

I tilt my head to the heavens and groan.

“Mom,” I hear a velvety voice say from behind me. Thank fuck he’s here.

“Sebby.”

“What are you doing?”

“We’re just catching up a bit, right (y/n)?”

I look between the two of them, as they await my answer. I see Robin’s signature, mischievous eyebrow waggle and opt to focus on the tall emo boy.

“Please help me, Sebastian.”

Robin continues her calm, yet maniacal, laughter. Seb sighs and puts an arm around me, directing me to the basement, mumbling something to his mother about shutting up. I can’t help but laugh with her, honestly.

“She was doing so good at not openly shipping us, at least around me… then one night together, and bam! She thinks we’re fucking.”

“Oh my god,” he plainly responds, closing his door behind him.

“Encouraged it, even,” I add.

“Oh my god! It was that bad?”

I haven’t looked at him, but his amused malcontent is evident in his voice. I break into a full-blown giggle fit while nodding in response, as I put my things down on the couch adjacent to his desk.

“Your mom actually brought up something I’ve been thinking about,” I tell him.

“You were thinking about fucking me, (y/n)?”

Yeah, and I’ll do it again, I think to myself.

I flop down next to my bag. Seb removes his hoodie, revealing a little midriff in the process. Mmmmm. It’s followed by a white shirt with black sleeves, which he immediately rolls up to his elbows. This is a great look on him. He seats himself next to me.

“Ignoring that question,” I softly elbow him. “What I was going to say is that for such a so-called loner, you seem to like being around me.”

I do a little shimmy as I reach for my phone, curiously about the time. That reminds me, does he actually have a half-naked photo of me on his camera roll now, or was that a bluff? I’ll have to ask about that.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” He’s so precious when he’s being sincere. “I feel like I can be myself around you.”

“Can’t around Sam?” I inquire, unable to stop before I realize how nosy I’m being. I mentally smack myself in the face.

He sighs, heavily.

“I dunno. Sam goes crazy if he’s alone for too long. He DMs me almost every day, begging me to go to his place.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes. Sweet Yoba, he has a nice neck…wait no, not the time. Focus, (y/n)! “Doesn’t care if I’m working with a deadline or something, because he doesn’t think I have a ‘real’ job. I like having him around, but it’s a bit much sometimes.”

“Bummer… Abby?”

He scoffs. “Not anymore. That girl has no boundaries.” Wow, really? Haven’t noticed! “She’s nice, but she just doesn't take no for an answer. I could say I’m working, sick, anything and she’ll stop by anyway and complain about being bad at Prairie King, or about how bored she is. Like, no shit, dude. If I'm working I can’t exactly entertain.”

He leans up and starts picking at his nail polish, seeming to get angry just thinking about it. I guess this might be what peeved him so badly, when he caught her staring me down at the saloon.

“And then my mom gives me shit for being a bad friend and rejecting their plans with me all the time, or sitting at my computer too much, because she probably doesn’t think my job is real either.

And then I catch shit from Demetrius because I’m not as accomplished as Maru. Because he loves to ignore the fact that I’d easily be totally independent from him by now if I’d entered the corporate rat race. Yoba forbid I get successful doing anything else. If I leave this room I’m being harassed by fucking everyone, obviously that would make me aversive towards people.”

As I nod along, I silently hope that he feels better ranting about it, considering I accidentally started this. I can only do so much to take away all this shit he’s dealing with. I start playing with a stray thread on his sleeve, not really noticing that I’m doing it until he shows that he does. He seems to lean a little bit into my touch, and so I lean onto his arm, still twirling the string around between my fingers.

“Sam seems like a good guy, and Abby…” I pause, trying to be careful with my word choice here. “I dunno. She’s nice? I guess? I… dunno. But I definitely get those weird and clingy vibes from her.” He nods. “And you know I’m pretty close with your mom… sure she’s made comments here and there, but she thinks you turned out decently and she tries to ‘get’ you, I know that much.”

Seb tenses up, and I put my other hand on his arm. Fuck, it just occurred to me that trying to be kind towards them probably just sounds like I’m “siding” against him.

“Look, I don’t like talking badly about people even in a context like this. Feels weird… But, I know for certain that it isn’t great that you have all these people in your life that care about you, and yet they don’t respect you. Or at least your job, and your social battery. Regardless of how good any of their intentions might be, that sucks.”

He eases up a bit. Phew.

“You’re the one experiencing all this. So it doesn’t matter what your friends, or your parents, or any other people living in this stupid little town think. In the end, Seb, you’re the one who’s being put down and hurt. I’m really sorry you have to deal with that.”

He takes a moment to process things. I hope he needed the validation; that I didn’t cross a line by interrupting his rant to give my own two cents. I just sorta selfishly wanted to help.

“I appreciate that a lot, (y/n)… thank you,” he responds, resting his head atop mine. “I wish they would apologize though, you know?” he quietly admits. I nod in response. “They really just think I sit here and surf the web all day. Everyone thinks my friends are more productive and valuable than me, just because they leave their rooms more often than I do. It fucking hurts, (y/n).”

I don’t know how to respond without sounding like a broken record or getting too sappy, so I give his arm a little hug. I have an inkling of a feeling that touch is his love language, just based on our interactions so far. I hope I’m right, because holy shit, he’s comfy.

“Using my body again, huh?” I can’t see his face but I know there’s a cheeky grin on it.

I pull away, about to argue that it isn’t my fault he’s a wonderful pillow. But before I can say anything, he wraps his arm around me and pulls me to his chest.

He whispers, “Sorry for shoving all of my shit at you like that, out of nowhere. I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” I cut him off. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m really glad I can be here for you.” I sink into his chest a bit further. “Thanks for trusting me, Sebastian.”

He gives me a tiny squeeze, and chuckles. “Full-naming me, huh?”

“Shut up…”

I can hear and feel his heartbeat on my cheek, which in turn rushes the beating of my own. His pulse seems pretty steady, for such an avid smoker. I put my hand on his lower belly to play with yet another loose thread. Must be an old shirt. His heart quickens its pace. I giggle, knowing that I have that sort of power.

“Hm?”

I reach up, placing my palm against his chest. “Your heart…”

It goes a little bit faster as I point it out. Heh, I like this game.

“Whatever…”

I chuckle and I look up at him, meeting his gaze, which I didn’t even know was on me ‘til now. How long has he been just watching me up there?

Oh fuck, it’s like that moment with Sam again. Seb is just inspecting me. And I feel just as calm as that night on the beach, but so much more giddy. I ball up the part of his shirt that I’m touching into my fist, stimming my butterflies away the best I can.

I study Seb’s profile, since the opportunity basically presented itself on an obsidian platter.

His eyebrows are thick, but well-kempt. He has perfect cheekbones. A few light birthmarks scatter around his skin, just like on the arm that was draped around me this morning. He’s got long, dark eyelashes framing his blue, almost purple eyes. And his lips aren’t thick, just average-sized, I guess, but they’re nice. So nice.

They look so soft. This is my first time smelling his “normal” breath. The scent of his cigarettes lingers, because of course, but it’s spearminty otherwise. Sweet, almost.

I wonder if he tastes sweet, too.

Sam pussied out of kissing me, and I was thankful. I didn’t really want to kiss him, nor did I want to deal with the baggage of it. Seb, on the other hand…

I’m pulled from my stupid little fantasy when Seb wets his lips and smirks. I shudder at the sight, but not without realizing I’ve been staring at his mouth for such a hot minute. Fuck.

I lower my eyes and reposition, my face and ears hot, and mumble a quiet “sorry.” This earns a laugh and some light head rubs from Seb. I still wish that wasn’t so comforting…

I feel myself dozing off a little after a few minutes of snuggling against his strong heartbeat, but manage to jolt myself awake.

“Oh god damnit,” I yawn, standing up to stretch.

“Hm?”

“Mm'sleepy.”

I grab the soda from my bag and crack it open, promptly downing it. He laughs at me, then checks his phone.

His phone…

Hm…

Oh!

“Hey,” I try to sound serious as I sit on the couch, up on my knees so that I can level myself with him. He looks a little surprised, but tickled. Haha so funny, local sMoL bEaN tries being assertive! Ugh. “Did you actually take a picture of me in my underwear?”

He chuckles, but doesn’t answer, directing his focus back to his device. I’m about to try and regain his attention, thinking he’s ignoring me for shits and gigs. But then, he holds it up. And there I am, in all my unclothed glory... I do look kinda spicy from that angle, not gonna lie, but that’s not the point!

“Oh my fucking god,” I deadpan.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Why?”

“You told me to,” he states, giving me that evil grin again.

I nod and suck my bottom lip to process this. “Cool! Delete it?”

“If you want me to, sure.”

“I mean,” I cross my arms and plant my butt onto the cushion next to him, my body twisted to face the left side of his. “Why would you need it, now that you’ve… proven your point, or whatever the fuck.”

He inhales deeply, but holds that stupid, devilish, punchable smile, and turns his body towards mine.

“Do you want the honest answer, (y/n)?”

…Fuck.

I’m entranced by the dark smolder he’s giving me. I wanna hear him say what I think he’s going to say, what I hope he’s going to say, no matter how embarrassing it might feel. I nod my head and mutter quietly, smirking, wanting to match his energy the best I can. Confidence is key.

“Yup. Full truth.”

“Well.”

He leans in just as tantalizingly close as he did this morning, in my bed, trapping me against the arm rest. He’s blushing wildly, but I can tell he’s loving this. He knows he’s a tease, and it’s been confirmed he enjoys being one. And he knows I do as well.

“You’re ridiculously sexy…”

Oh my god. He’s leaning in more, and his lips are literally grazing mine as he speaks, but not quite closing the gap. The sensation is making me squirm.

“…and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see you like that again,” he continues bluntly. “So I wanted something to look back to, just in case.”

Oh no.

Parroting his sly comment from earlier, I narrow my eyes. “Were you thinking about fucking me, Sebastian?”

He pulls away a little to snort back a laugh. His eyes locked onto my own, he nods, and then murmurs, “Yeah, I was.”

I can’t form words so I just let out a breathy laugh in response. I lean my forehead up onto his, roll my eyes shut, and grab a fistful of his top in each of my hands, groaning. It feels as if I’ve just done a workout, and this will help me recover.

Reactively, he cups my face in his hands. He is absolutely destroying me. I want him so badly, but we’ve never even kissed. This is, like, fast, no? Maybe not. Ugh. I want to kiss him, but I don’t have those sorta balls.

But like… wow.

“Seb?”

He hums curiously, but I don’t even know what to say. I just want to say his name. Over, and over, and over. I just shake my head, and he seems to accept that.

We continue to observe each other, up close, rubbing noses, still refusing to close the gap between our mouths. Teasing whatever’s to come next, if anything comes next. There’s nothing stopping us from just fucking kissing already, but we’re both content as is, intoxicated off of each other.

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loveintechnicolor · 7 days

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Wild Hope: Chapter 2

A month passed without any further correspondence from Brittany, and Santana had all but given up on hearing back from the blonde. In the end, she figured it was probably all for the best. Brittany was an intelligent, resourceful woman who knew how to take care of herself. She did not need the brunette’s help in keeping Pierce Automotive afloat. Santana was sure of it.

At least, that's what Santana told herself every time she remembered that day. The brunette could not help but kick herself for finally having an opportunity to talk to the woman she’d had a crush on since she was fifteen and then promptly blowing her chance to even simply befriend her. Regardless, she still preferred having offered help to Brittany and being turned down than to not and have her never know that Lopez Marketing Services was a viable option in the event that she actually ever needed them. Santana just hoped that Brittany did not feel as if she had overstepped or, at the very least, that the mechanic would not hold it against her.

Santana buried her face in her hands, realizing that she had once again found herself mulling over the memory of that day. Reflecting on that moment was something that had taken up the majority of her idle thoughts over the past several weeks, and she was still trying to figure out a way for her to hopefully move on and return to life before Brittany S. Pierce had stepped back into it. It wasn’t that Santana regretted seeing the blonde again after being away for college. It had just proven to be near impossible for her to get the other woman back out of her head after years of working to suppress the echoing thoughts of her woulda-coulda-shouldas. For the time being, she told herself there was nothing she could do to change the situation that caused her latest bout of mortification. Well, nothing outside of calling up the other woman and profusely apologizing, but she would never do that. Not after already embarrassing herself beyond belief.

Releasing a frustrated huff, Santana decided to put her thoughts of Brittany aside for the time being as she grabbed her wallet and car keys to once again pick-up her lunch for the day. On her way out, she stopped by her mother’s office and gave a knock against the open door to gain the older woman’s attention.

Maribel instantly snapped her gaze over to the younger brunette, giving her daughter a bright smile before greeting, “Hey, Sweetheart. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I am heading out to grab lunch. Do you want anything?”

“Depends. Where are you planning to go?”

“Well, there’s that new bistro that opened up across town. Rach keeps claiming that their Italian sub is to die for, so I figured I’d find go out for myself.”

“In that case, grab me one, too.”

“Will do. Be back in a bit.”

“Okay, take your time,” Maribel replied with a wave of her hand as she watched her daughter turn to leave.

Santana returned a half-hour later with a bag of takeout in hand. After saying hello to the receptionist, she made her way over to her mother’s office to deliver half the food only to find the woman no longer there. Suddenly, the somewhat distant sound of laughter caught her attention. Narrowing her eyes in confusion, Santana slowly spun around and started following the unexpected voices coming from her own office around the corner. As she approached the room, she looked through the opened doorway to find Maribel leaning back on her daughter’s desk as she spoke to the woman seated a few feet away in one of the office’s guest chairs. Santana nearly shrieked in surprise as she realized that it was the same woman who had unknowingly maintained a near constant claim on her thoughts over the course of the past few weeks.

Not realizing her presence, Maribel continued, “Yeah, my Santanita has always been a little spitfire, but that’s part of her charm. I remember this one time when she-“

“Um, hello?” Santana cut in, refusing to allow her mother to tell Brittany any other potentially embarrassing stories about her life. She watched on as the pair each turned their gazes over to the brunette standing at the office’s entrance, mainly maintaining a subtle glare in the direction of her mother.

“Oh, hey, Santana! We were just talking about you. Brittany came in requesting to speak with you while you were out, so I figured I’d just keep her company until my favorite daughter got back,” Maribel explains and Santana instantly noticed a glint of mischief dancing behind her mother’s eyes.

“I’m your only daughter, let alone child, Ma,” Santana grumbled with an exaggerated eyeroll. She knew what the woman was doing, and although she most likely had her daughter’s best interests in mind, Santana refused to let her mother continue to try to talk her up to the mechanic. Fishing out Maribel’s to-go container, she held it out to her and added, “Here’s your food, by the way. Rachel said it tastes best when it is still warm.”

Catching the hint, Maribel clutched the box with her hand and replied, “Okay, great. Can’t wait to try it.” Glancing between the two women, she continued, “I’ll leave you two to discuss whatever matters Miss Pierce needs to speak with you about. It was good to see you, Brittany. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Yes, ma’am. Have a good afternoon, Mrs. Lopez.”

“You, too, Honey,” Maribel returned as she moved to leave, subtly winking at her daughter. Santana instantly shot another thinly veiled displeased look at the older woman, but her mother had already moved past the brunette before she even had a chance to see. It didn’t matter anyway. Maribel knew her daughter well enough to know how she felt about the matter even without meeting her gaze.

Releasing a quiet sigh, Santana put her exasperation aside and addressed the blonde with a friendly smile, greeting, “Hi, Brittany.”

“Hey, Santana,” the woman chirped back in return.

“What can I do for you today?”

“Well,” Brittany began before her expression turned a bit uneasy. “I, um- I was hoping to maybe talk a little more about your offer from a few weeks ago. You know, the one regarding you potentially helping the shop with some marketing-related things?”

Suppressing her surprise, Santana replied, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, I was hoping to maybe discuss my options if you had some time this afternoon. Sorry to just barge in like this, by the way. I thought about calling to schedule a formal appointment, but I was out on my lunch break and figured I’d stop by while I was in the area. Now, I’m starting to realize that you might have other meetings scheduled for this afternoon. If you are busy, I could just some back another time.”

“No, I’m free for the time being. You’re fine.”

“Oh, okay. Good, good,” Brittany hums out. Getting more visibly nervous, she adds, “I-I know I could have maybe talked to your mom about it just now, so I’m sorry about that. Like you said the other day, she’s been doing it for a long time now, which of course isn’t your fault because you have to start somewhere, just like she did at some point, but- I don’t know. This is something that is really important to me, and I just feel that I know you a bit better. I mean, we graduated together, and you’ve always been nothing but nice to me, and-“

“Britt-“

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come in here and immediately word vomit,” the blonde apologizes before taking a deep, shaky breath, tears visibly starting to well in her eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry. I-I thought I’d be able to keep it together. I-I’m just really terrified right now.”

"Hey, it’s completely understandable why you would feel scared. The shop is obviously very important to you,” Santana assures as she quietly shuts her office door to give them more privacy. “Please just take a deep breath for me, and we’ll talk everything through, okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Brittany complies as she sucks in another long, unsteady breath before breathing it slowly back out.

“There we go. Now, what’s going on?”

“Th-the auto shop hasn’t done much better since the last time we spoke, and I’m terrified that I’m going to lose everything. I-” she started to say before hesitating, almost thinking better of it before deciding to just speak her thoughts anyway. “To be honest, I’m starting to feel that e-everyone’s right, and I’m just an idiot who-“

“Okay, no. First of all, Brittz, you are absolutely the furthest thing from an idiot, and anyone with the nerve to insinuate that you’re dumb is the actual idiot, alright?” Waiting for Brittany to nod her head, Santana continues, “Good, I’m glad we can agree. Now second of all, you aren’t losing anything. Not over my dead body.” Placing her take out on top of her desk, the brunette slid into her office chair and pulled open her desk drawer to retrieve a folder that had Pierce Automotive written in neat cursive script before laying it on the desktop next to her keyboard. She then moved to log back into her PC as she adds, “I've actually given quite a bit of thought as to how we can maybe help you increase traffic to the shop on the off chance that you’d change your mind. Just give me a second to find the other document I have with my ideas."

While focusing on pulling up the file on her computer, Santana suddenly heard the sound of a loud stomach growl and looked over to find the mechanic with a deep blush blooming on her cheeks.

"Oh, God. This is so embarrassing. I'm so sorry,” Brittany apologized, her mortification clearly shown on her face. “I came right over at the start of my lunchbreak, and I was so worried and distracted that I didn’t even think to eat beforehand."

“Hey, it’s alright. You are more than welcome to have some of my food if you want."

"No, I’ll be okay. I can wait until after we’re done. Let’s just move past it."

"Britt, I genuinely have the stomach of a small bird and hate leftovers, so you'd actually be doing me a favor by not letting this food go to waste," Santana encouraged with a small, soft smile has she nudged the to-go box towards the other woman. "Seriously, please feel free to take half of it."

Another moment of hesitation passed before the blonde tentatively asked, "Are-Are you sure?"

A small smirk pulled at the brunette's lips as she flipped open the container for the other woman, revealing the contents on the inside as she responded, "I’m positive. Now just to let you know, it is an Italian sub on a ciabatta roll with provolone, ham, salami, pepperoni, red onions, tomatoes, lettuce, pepper relish, mustard, some type of Italian sauce, and-" Santana suddenly trailed off as she thought over the details of her order. After pausing for a brief moment to make sure she did not miss anything, she concluded, "Yeah, I think that's it."

"Sounds delicious,” Brittany chuckles as she reaches forward to grab half of the sandwich. “Thank you.”

"Anytime. Now, let me get back to pulling up that list of marketing ideas," Santana stated as she shifted her focus back to the computer screen in front of her. "Okay, so-"

"Wait, please eat your sandwich before worrying about the shop."

Glancing back at the other woman, Santana assured, "It's really no problem. I take working lunches all the time."

"Not this time, please. I really don't want my problems to cause you to get indigestion," Brittany pouted. "Lord Tubbington always gets super cranky when he has an upset tummy."

"Okay, fine. You win, but just know that I'm not aware of any time that working through lunch has caused me to have an adverse bodily reaction," Santana acquiesced with a teasing roll of her eyes as she reached for the other half of the sandwich. After taking the first bite, her eyes instantly widened in surprise before holding out the sandwich in front of her to take a good look at it. “Oh my God!” Motioning toward the sub still grasped in the mechanic’s hands, she encouraged, “Brittany, you have to try this.”

"Oh, okay,” Brittany quietly replied as she chomped into the sandwich. Giving a moment to process the taste, she suddenly released a long hum in contentment. "Wow, this is really good. The crunch of the toasted ciabatta with the melty provolone and spicy pepper relish work perfectly together. This was a fantastic choice."

"Right? I hate to say it, but Rachel has pretty good taste when it comes to food.”

“Apparently," Brittany agreed before glancing back down to take another bite. The pair continue eat in silence for a few minutes before the blonde asks, "So, how has your day been? At least, before I came in to ruin it."

“Oh, hush. You haven’t ruined anything,” Santana laughed. "It hasn’t been too bad for a Tuesday. I actually might even venture to say it’s better now that I get to see you."

Brittany’s face immediately narrowed her eyes at the woman as she teased, "You really don't have to sweettalk me, Santana. I'm already in your office with the intention of asking you for help."

"Oh, I know I don't have to say it. I'm telling the truth. You're a goddamn ray of sunshine, and it'd be extremely hard for anyone to not have their day brightened with you around."

"Aw, shucks. You must be really, really trying to butter me up."

Santana gave a little noncommittal shrug as a sly smirk pulled at her lips. Popping the final bite into her mouth, she dusted off the crumbs from her hands and returned her attention to the matter at hand. "Okay, so back to business. My initial thoughts involve three to five different ads across all local television, radio, and online ad services. I have also already scoped out a few potential billboard locations that we can go look at if you are interested." She then paused to look over at the mechanic, "Does the shop happen to have any social media pages?"

"No, not really."

"Okay, so there is room for expansion in that regard. We might actually be able to use that to our advantage. How do you feel about potentially holding giveaway packages to drive traffic to your social media pages and the shop, itself?"

"I don't see any problem with that. Honestly, I'm pretty much down for anything you think will help at this point."

"Great, but also feel free to veto any ideas that may not work for you or the shop. You are the expert here and will know better than anyone else what works for your line of work. I’m just an outside third-party who is trying to help.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know. Thanks, San.”

“Of course,” Santana replied with a wink. “So, I was also thinking about reaching out to the carwash located down the street from the shop to see if they'd be willing to try a mutually beneficial team-up. Basically, customers at the shop can have a free carwash after receiving routine maintenance services while people who purchase certain carwash packages can get discounts on oil changes."

“Oh, that’s a great idea.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. Of course, we would still have to reach out to them, but I’ve been told that I can be pretty convincing when I want to be so I don’t think we’ll have a problem getting them to come to the table.”

For the first time that day, Brittany actually started to feel somewhat hopeful about her situation. That was, until she remembered that this kind of help came with a price. Getting a bit worried, she asked, "So just to clarify, are there various packages for these marketing options, or-?"

"All of this is typically included with our premium offer."

"Okay, so how much would all this set me back?"

"Absolutely nothing,” Santana answers in a matter-of-fact tone.

Brittany blankly stared at the woman for a long moment, looking at the brunette as if she just sprouted a second head. Slowly furrowing her brow with a clearly confused expression, as she hesitantly responded, “What do you mean nothing?"

Santana laced her fingers together as she leaned forward to rest her chin on top of her hands as she stated, "Brittany, I've already spoken to my mother about this, and I would like to personally pay for everything we help you with."

"What? Why?" Brittany questioned, her eyes wide with shock.

“Because I’ve caused a lot of bad throughout my life, and I would really like to use this opportunity to add a bit of good to the world.”

“But this would be a lot of money we’re talking about, right?”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Brittany balked, “Of course I’m going to worry about it, San! Are you kidding me?”

“Britt, you literally just tried to do the exact same thing for me not that long ago.”

“Yeah, and last I checked, you refused to let me give you free service.”

“Well like we discussed last time, I’m hardheaded as hell, and I won’t stop until I get my way.”

The blonde gives her a slightly skeptical look, not really sure what to make of the situation. Thinking over her options, she tentatively asked, "Are you're sure about this?"

Placing her hands down onto the smooth desktop, Santana met the other woman’s gaze and swore, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. You happen to employ several people I have actively terrorized in the past, so I would like nothing more than to hopefully help them maintain their livelihood while also ensuring you don’t lose the shop."

"And you really want nothing in return?"

“Nothing at all,” the brunette assured before her lips pulled into a teasing grin, adding, “but I also won’t stop you if you want to name-drop Lopez Marketing Services in idle conversations and such.”

Brittany gave a light laugh as she sat back in her seat, a look of slight disbelief on her face. “It almost feels like an offer I can’t refuse.”

“You definitely can. I’m not here to try to pressure you or anything. Feel free to take some time and think it over. Potentially even discuss it with Kurt and any legal representation you may have. I can even have some paperwork drawn up if you’d like. That way, it is legally binding and ensures that I am not going to swindle you.”

Taking a moment to think it over, Brittany suddenly seemed to come to a decision as she held up a pinky toward the other woman.

Santana could only stare at the gesture, not really sure of the other woman’s intentions as she questioned, “Um, what’s this?”

“It’s a pinky swear.”

“And what would you like me to swear to, exactly.”

“Do you swear that you are telling the truth about everything we’ve discussed today?”

Finally understanding, a wide grin spread across her face as Santana reached forward to lace her pinky with the other woman’s, swearing, “I promise that I genuinely aim to help and that I will do everything in my power to help your auto shop become as successful as possible. Everything will be paid for by myself, you can decline any idea that is pitched to you, and you will ultimately have the final say in any business Lopez Marketing Services conducts on behalf of Pierce Automotive.”

Seemingly pleased with their deal, Brittany briefly tightens her pinky’s grip around Santana’s before letting it slip from her grasp as she affirms, “Then, I think you have yourself a deal.”

Santana’s face lit up with elation at the news as she cheerily replied, “Good to hear. I’ll go ahead and arrange to start having the official paperwork drawn up. As binding as our pinky swear may be between us, I unfortunately don’t think it’ll hold up as well in a court of law, and I want to make sure we go about this the right way. That way you can have full confidence in our work with you.”

“I already do, with or without the paperwork.”

“Then, it’ll be for Kurt, who I can guarantee will be wanting to see it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I usually am,” Santana teased with a wink. “In the meantime, would you like to go check out the billboards I have in mind? That is, if you’re free.”

“Yeah, I think I can spare some time.”

“Awesome,” Santana states as she grabs her keys and opens her door for the other woman. “After you, milady.”

Read on AO3

Read on FF.Net

#title: wild hope #mechanic!au #brittana #my work #links for ao3 and ff.net at end

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thescrapbookingscientist · 1 year

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Biweekly Media Roundup

- Trigun (Anime) - Still obsessing over Trigun and Knives specifically. Can’t believe how much I like this patronizing genocidal asshole. That’s good characterization baby.

- Lackadaisy (Webseries) - I don’t have anything interesting to say about this one, just that it was a very well made and pretty intro to what I remember being a pretty compelling web series. The designs of the cats and how much personality each exudes is incredible.

- The Super Mario Bros Movie (Movie) - The reviews of this seem pretty mixed, but personally I liked it quite a bit. No, it’s not some mind blowing cinematic masterpiece, but for what it is, a kid friendly movie introducing the basic Mario story, it’s honestly much better than I was expecting-especially considering Illuminations previous output. You can tell it’s made by people who love the series, not only with the level of references but also in just the details of how the characters move or how the backgrounds and world are rendered. It’s quite pretty, with the character models looking adorable and the backgrounds full of color. Bowser was a standout of course, both in Jack Blacks vocal performance and the way they incorporated his mannerisms into the character model. I loved the brothers relationship and how affectionate they were with each other. It also had a few pretty solid jokes. I do wish it had been longer, as the scenes went by too fast for any emotional moment to take root, but again if you think of it as a set up of what’s bound to be a franchise of Galaxy, Luigi’s Mansion, or Odessy sequels, then it’s a pretty good “first episode” so to speak.

- Bocchi the Rock (Anime) - My first venture into binging all the yuri-esque shows I missed from last year, Bocchi was indeed pretty solid. They made the protagonist uncomfortably relatable in her brand of social awkwardness which made for some emotional moments as well as big oof jokes. The cut away gags experimenting with different animation were fun, I did quite like the music and performances, and the character dynamics were pretty good, I’ll watch a 2nd season if it gets one. I’m not sure I’d go as far as calling it anime of the year, the ending didn’t really leave off like a complete story and plot wise it didn’t really have much going on, but as a nice slice of life comedy it’s definitely worth the watch. As a character Bocchi is great, but hopefully a s2 will explore a bit more of the other band members, who weren’t generic characters by any means but didn’t really get much screentime.

- Dr, Stone (Anime) - Hey we are back! New guy seems fun, I still adore Senku as a protagonist, and I’m interested to see how they plan to balance so many characters moving forward. Hope we see more flashbacks of the fantastic dad/son relationship, it’s honestly one of my favorites from any media I’ve seen.

- Buddy Daddies (Anime) - While the ending surprised me in it’s conclusively (I did not expect a future epilogue to be canonized) overall I’d say it was a good decision. I’d say this was a solid C+, B-, it was good at being the cute little parenting comedy it wanted to be with some fun moments and solid animation but wasn’t particularly memorable in terms of plot or characters-like, I like all the leads, but I don’t see them topping any end of the year favorite lists. I will say that I’m surprised at how platonic they kept the fathers, I hadn’t expected them to get together but I did expect a lot more ship bait than we got. They work fine as a ship but the series really did focus a lot more on the child rearing aspects which came as a surprise considering how often marketing wants to tease mlm relationships for profit. I guess I appreciate it as I prefer giving visibility to more platonic relationships and unusual family structures to queerbaiting with no delivery but also there’s so few genuinely good mlm anime that it would’ve been nice for them to just have them be a couple. I did have a fun time with this, I’d recommend it if you are into the raising children genre.

- Campfire Cooking in Another World (Anime) - Follow some people who had suggested this as a fun, relaxing little cooking anime and yeah, that checks out so far. Just a very cute and wholesome little feel good series about a man feeding his giant God level talking dog and baby slime child-As a domestic monster appreciator this is checking my boxes pretty well.

- The Locked Tomb Series (Books) - Almost done with Gideon the Ninth, once again I’m really enjoying these characters and their dynamics, as well as the general space necromancy mystery plotline. I’m listening to the audiobook at the moment, but I’ll likely buy the physical copies as there are a lot of excellent quotes in here that I would like easier access to revisit. Anyway, Gideon and Harrow are the toxic co-dependent love hate lesbian ship I’ve needed in my life since my catradora hyperfixation.

- Resident Evil 4 (Video Game) - Played till around chapter 6 so far with my friends and honestly, it’s really good. They keep all the fun stuff from the original but make it high res, I love seeing Leon and Ada and Luis and the Merchant again. It’s hard to get everyone together to play but I’m excited about getting to experience it again, got some great childhood memories of hanging with the girls and laughing at all the strange zombie noises they chose to include.

As usual I’m also keeping up with The Greatest Estate Developer, Land of the Lustrous, The Vampire Dies In No Time, and The S Classes that I raised.

Listening to: Nothing is Going Right by Meiyo, Eat Your Young by Hozier, Achilles Come Down cover by Annapantsu, Stalker’s Tango by Autoheart, Ship in a Bottle by fin, I Hate Everything But You and I’ve Always Never Believed in You from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, They’re Only Human from the Death Note Musical, Counting Bodies Like Sheep by A Perfect Circle, Kickback by Kenshi Yonezu, My Kind by Hilary Duff, Hallelujah cover by Pentatonix

#weekly roundup #My posts

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aveegrex · 2 years

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DUDE, SHE'S JUST NOT INTO YOU

When his captain's brother becomes his bi-awakening

genre: fluff, kinda friends to lovers but the story doesn't go much past the kiss pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Sanji Vinsmoke word count: 2,1k cw: explicit smoking, swearing, veeeery vague mentions of sexual activity (although there isn't even that word, just a tiny hint on it), btw kissing is kinda public but everyone's asleep at the moment

author's note: my first public characther x character fic here, woohoo!! hope you like it, please comment i'm in desperate need of feedback like PLEASE

Also available on AO3

“Dude, she’s just not into you”

A soft voice startles Sanji, yanking him out of his thoughts, and he looks around to see Ace settling on the sand beside him.

“I’d note that it is not yet confirmed nor denied, please and thank you” - the cook retorts, hissing when the heat from a bud reaches his lips. “Yeah, sure, - Ace scoffs, leaning back on a rock. - Look at ‘em and tell me you see two friends, I dare you”

Sanji’s sight is back on Vivi and Nami, nuzzling against each other in search of warmth under a blooming desert sunset . Their whispers are a little too far to make out the words, but the soft gazes the two share speak volumes, leaving only a total fool unsuspecting.

“Bet if you weren’t staring so hard these two would already be making out. - Luffy’s brother is getting a tad hard to ignore. - You lucky you look too love-struck to come off as a cree-”

“Oi shut it! - Sanji hisses, rolling another cigarette. - Does the D stand for dick?”

“Oh absolutely. - Ace grins. - I’m wanted for a reason, kitchen boy”

Sanji fears his eyes could roll out of skull. It would have its perks though, not seeing this smug face serving as a relief. “What do you even care? Is it your family motto to be insufferable?”

The Fire fist choses to stay silent for once, instead reaching his hand for the cigarette and pulling it out of Sanji’s mouth, no please and thank you’s. Sanji’s about to smack him only to halt his movements when he sees Ace puckering his lips to blow a line of smoke rings. “How.. Could you teach me?”

Ace lets out a few more rings and turns to face Sanji, holding a cigarette to his mouth. “Take a drag. - he nods, noticing Sanji’s hesitation.. - Don’t go shy on me now”

The cook reluctantly wraps his mouth around the filter, lips just slightly touching Ace’s fingers, and takes his usual drag, looking up expectantly. “Now roll your tongue into O. - the brunette pokes his own out, showing the goal shape. - Blow a little and push the tongue forward”

Sanji follows, but it ends up a usual exhale, making him cough out the rest of the smoke. “Sh-KHH-shit, it’s not working!”

“Just practice it more, man, that’s how I was taught”

The cook hums and fails again, hissing out the smoke. “Didn’t peg you as a smoker, actually” - brow quirked up, he wonders.

“I’m not. Well, usually. - Ace’s lazy eyes focused on Sanji’s mouth, pointy tongue flicking his bottom lip for moisture. - It’s more of a pick up tool, you know?”

Sanji’s eyes blow wide, a silent question met with Ace’s laughter. “It works!”

“Yeah, right. That’s why you keep showing off in front of Nami-chwan?”

“Oh, nah. - Ace’s face softens, hazy sight now cat-like. - I know better than to stand between a lady and her princess”. His eyes trained on Sanji, he snatches the cigarette out of his mouth again, only this time no revolts follow. “Besides, yours truly prefers blondes”.

Sanji feels a slight shiver running down his spine. The desert is still warm, welcoming even, the scorching sun giving way to a comfortable breeze. He finally notices how the sand sticks to his palm, and how his spine aches against the stone. He hears the same sand swishing, moving around to trick them all tomorrow into a new landscape.

“Anyway, time to hit the hay. Oh-, - Ace laughs childishly, getting up and brushing off the sand off his legs. - Report to me when you succeed”.

A tiny wink and he’s off to settle a little away from the fire, covering his face with the hat. Sanji just sits there though, palms still sweating against the dust, face a little flush.

What…

What the hell was that?

Did Luffy’s brother just flirt with him?

Did Portgas D. goddamn Ace just flirt with a guy?

…

Next day Ace is back to Luffy and his little antics, disguising his care with playfulness. They laugh, running around like there isn’t a water and food shortage on their trip. Everyone else is back on track, slowly dragging their feet through sand.

“You look worse than usual” - Sanji looks aside to see Marimo’s eyes trained on the road ahead, little exasperated breaths coming from Chopper behind him.

“Look who’s talking, snot hair”.

“You lucky I can’t let go of Chopper”.

“Yeah right. - Sanji stretches. - What did you want anyway?”

Zoro sighs, swords clanging rhythmically against his hip. “Dunno. Nevermind”

It’s the heat, probably. Yeah, most certainly. That’s why everything is a little off. That’s why Nami and Vivi are all lovey-dovey on that pervy camel. That’s why Zoro is suddenly initiating a talk with him.

That’s why White Beard’s kin hit on him under the most beautiful sunset Sanji’s ever seen.

It’s just the heat.

“Guys, midday’s near! - Vivi’s concern having everyone perk their ears. - We’re crashing in that cave for a few hours, don’t get lost!”.

All the eyes are trained on a little cavity in the distance, almost arousing with promises of coolness and shade. The desert is once more cut with a cry, this time Luffy’s happy one, the goofy captain taking off immediately to save himself the best spot.

…

“Daaaaamn! - Usopp’s musing echoing through walls. - So big!”.

Sanji leans back against a cold wall and pours his body to the floor, long limbs stretched out star-like. He can hear relaxed gasps and strained groans as everyone else finds themselves a spot, fried up bodies bathing in fresh air. Three minutes in and half the crew is already snoring away.

Sanji props up, the lighter clicks echoing through the cave. He barely had a chance to practice the new trick, and given how annoying D brothers are, Ace will be sure to ask about his success.

One try, two tries, three tries, hell… It takes about five rollups to master one flimsy ring. Sanji sighs, both annoyed and a little proud, starting to roll another one.

“I see my guidance bearing fruit” - fuck, can Ace NOT startle him every single time?

“Ye-yeah. - the cook glances up, meeting an expected smug grin. - Practice makes perfect though”.

Ace plops down next to him, a whiff of musk splitting the tobacco smell. “Don’t go too hard on yourself, you only have two lungs”.

“And exactly zero girls, man. - Sanji’s lighting up his recent doing. - Gotta balance it out”.

A soft airy laugh, much like yesterday's one. The cook registers a slight commotion, bringing his eyes up only to come face to face with the brunette. “Care to make me one too?”.

Sanji shrugs, the kit tin out again. “Thought you said it’s just a pick up tool”.

“It is”.

Oh fuck this guy.

Not like “oh yeah, imma fuck this guy”.

Sanji’s not gay.

Sanji’s as straight as a mast.

Well, not Mary’s mast, but a regular mast, a normal mast.

A straight mast.

Just like Sanji.

FUCK this guy. What the fuck is he thinking?

Sanji starts to reconsider his earlier judgment of the D family. At least Luffy’s not speaking in riddles. Not by choice, of course, but still.

“What are you saying?” - yeah, a straight question for a straight guy. About right.

Ace chuckles, lidded eyes sparkling in darkness. “What does it sound like?”

“Dude, I’m not gay. - Sanji’s patience is flat-lining. - Thought it was obvious”

“Me neither” - Ace gives up on waiting for his own rollup, stealing Sanji’s.

“Then what are you saying?”

A hum for an answer again. “Don’t have to be gay to chase a cutie. - blowing smoke into Sanji’s face, Ace grins, the sparks in his eyes interchanged for little flames. - Cuties come in all shapes, you know?”

Sanji’s fuming. Not literally, sadly, his cigarette still snug between Ace’s brownish lips, but visibly. “So you are hitting on me?”

“Have been for the past week. - the brunette blows a ring, this time aiming for the ceiling. - What, you’re telling me you’ve never… y’know… with a dude?”

“NO!” - Sanji’s shriek comes off a little louder and he sinks into the stone, glancing around.

“They’re all asleep. Temperature difference does that to peo-”

“I know what.it.does!!!” - Sanji’s hissing, snatching the bud from Ace and taking the longest drag of his life. His usual, straight, exhale winding up to the Ace’s cloud, he trains his eyes on the guy, suddenly noticing his heightened heart-beat and a weird knot tightening in his stomach. “I’ve just told you, I’m into girls”

“Yeah, I know. - Ace is somehow unphased by everything, his nonchalance bringing the cook to a boiling point. - Doesn’t mean you’re not into boys either”

The climax is ruined, anger giving way to confusion. “What you mean?”

“Both, man. You might like both”

“You like both?”

“Oh yes. - Ace smiles again, a whispered suppressed chuckle somehow soothing. - I don’t discriminate”

“That’s not how discrimination wor-... How did you understand that?” - Sanji feels his cheeks flushing, thankful for the convenient darkness.

Ace tilts his head to the side, eyes unfocused, long bony fingers toying with cold sand. “I ran a test with one guy”. He continues, noticing Sanji’s confusion. “He kissed me and I liked it”.

“And then you two… y’know?”

“Oh, haha, no! - brunette’s loose curls jiggle as he shakes his head. - No, we were like thirteen, I guess. It was back home” He glides his hands up and down his thighs, eyes unfocused. “Went fishing at night and cooked it on a bonfire”

“You kissed after eating fish?” - Sanji’s snicker rolling off his tongue with all the tension.

“Hey, it was sweet! Not the fish, the other thing, I mean. But, yeah. - Ace’s sight falls to Sanji’s lips and he licks his own, pink tongue poking out for just a second. - He turned out straight though, so we just went swimming after”

“Could have been a nice date” - the cook muses, finally back to rolling Ace his own cigarette.

The silence is comfortable now, and Sanji’s thankful for Ace coming up to him, watching the sleepy crew nuzzling deeper into their covers in search of warmth. “Hey, um-..., - he clears his throat, failing to shake off the tremble in his hands. - You think… you think you could test me? I mean, I’m sure it will lead to nothing, like me coming out straight and all, but like… I just wanna make sure, y’know?”

Ace hums, cigarette bud pressed tight between his fingers. He turns his whole body to face Sanji, eyes trained on the cook’s, the warm hand brushing the smoking kit out of shivering hands. “Close your eyes”

Sanji’s own blow wide, and Ace smiles softly. “It’s easier like that. Go on”

The cook lets out a sharp exhale and obliges, long lashes fluttering close. He feels calloused fingers tilting his head up slowly, feels a smoke-stained breath against his cheek. His heart is thumping inside his head, the sound threatening to wake everyone up any second. “Open your mouth a bit” - a thumb brushing over his lower lip, and Sanji obeys once again. “Good boy”.

And another mouth, a warmer one, presses against his own, wet tongue just slightly poking through his lips. Ace’s hand is in his hair now, buried into the soft locks. It’s soft, surprisingly soft, and not that wet, probably because they’ve been low on water for a few days.

Ace is gentle, polite almost with how slowly he’s going at it, pulling Sanji closer so it feels natural. His mind goes blank, all thoughts and concerns flicked away with that tender tongue and those kind chapped lips. There’s no teeth, no vigor or intensity, just exploration. He feels like he’s the receiver for once in this whole affection game, and Sanji melts a little, hands finding purchase in Ace’s salty curls.

He leans closer, switching the position slowly to not break the kiss. A tiniest moan escapes his chest when Ace pushes his tongue a little deeper, his warm hand sliding to Sanji’s heated cheek.

“W-wow. - Sanji whispers, lips a bit swollen and glistening in the dark. - H-hell”

Ace’s hand is still on his cheek, rubbing small circles into the soft flesh. He’s watching Sanji, fully focused on the cook’s ragged breath. “We still have time. - he cards a stray strand behind Sanji’s ear. - Don’t have to wake them all up just yet”

“Ye-yeah. - Sanji’s sight is on Ace’s lips, he’s scooting a little closer, mouth still agape. - Yeah, they should rest a bit more”

…

Listening to the tiny wet echoes, Usopp shifts in his place, careful not to make a sound. “Knew I should have gone for a piss sooner”.

NDNI, reblogs and comments are needed and welcome, never pass a chance to kiss Ace

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moodymisty · 2 years

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Thank you for the Din headcanons I couldn’t stop smiling while reading them😊. It’s been on my mind recently but how would The Bad Batch teach the Reader how to do what they were made to? Would they make good teachers? Would they want to teach the Reader at all? I have my own ideas but I’d love to know your opinions as well. Enjoy the rest of your day/evening!

Author's note: I'm glad you liked them! I was going to finish some fics ive had baking, but it seems my brain wanted to do this right away so, enjoy!

I hope someone likes my very specific characterizations of these boys lol

Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Echo and Wrecker x Gn!Reader

✦ Tech ✦

Tech I feel like is the type of person who really, genuinely enjoys teaching people. He loves nothing more than to blab about something, and almost vibrates into another plane of existence at the idea of someone being interested in something he's interested in enough to actually want to learn from him.

It's just the way he teaches that sometimes ends up raising problems.

He tends to gloss over smaller steps he deems trivial assuming you know them, or goes far too fast for the average person to keep up with. But after he ends up becoming closer to you, Omega, or both of you, he begins to realize that no one else is wired the way he is and he needs to slow his brain down one or two notches.

It's admittedly hard for him to do; And it’s often the reason his brothers try to avoid getting stuck in that sort of situation with him. He's trying his best, just bear with him a bit and please don’t leave, because he’s really enjoying this.

He just sometimes forgets that not everyone knows the most efficient layout for a motherboard's electrical path, and glossed over that part. But if you stick with him you'll probably end up sitting around for hours chatting and working on something together.

He also tends to get extremely lovey dovey in these moments, so expect plenty of kisses to the temple and cheek when you do something right.

✦ Crosshair ✦

Depending on your preferred learning style, Crosshair would probably be the best, or worst teacher you could possibly have. And this is providing he even accepts your half joking request anyways; As for the first while you know him, the answer will undoubtedly be no.

It just takes a bit for him to warm up to the idea of you, like some sort of pouty, borderline feral loth cat. Once he is, he's more apt to the idea. And if anything, he may come to you, under the guise of showing off or sating your curiosity.

If you're someone who just wants someone to show you what to do, and then step back while you learn from your mistakes, he's your man.

He doesn't hover, but he'll point out if the butt of the rifle is not against your shoulder right so you don't get a nasty bruise. If you don’t listen, he’ll get a good chuckle out of it.

He largely sees trying to teach you something as an opportunity for you to be alone together, and to show you something he's good at. He just enjoys the act of actually having something to talk about he knows well, like the back of his hand. He secretly gets a little happy if you enjoy it too, but he doesn't exactly show it.

✦ Wrecker ✦

Wrecker has the best intentions, but sometimes they don’t turn out perfectly. He'd love nothing more than to teach you, but often times it turns from 'teaching' to 'lets do something fun that'll probably get us both in trouble'.

Working out turns into messing around and someone breaking something, bomb wiring turns into a situation where there's -for a split second- a fear you might blow everyone up; And loading the Marauder turns into you climbing around the storage compartments like a stowaway loth cat until you’re stuck and someone more lithe like Tech or Hunter has to help you out.

So while in theory Wrecker has a ton of things he'd love to show you, teach you, and do with you, most of the time that ends up not happening.

If anything it kind of works out in it's own way; You end up learning by doing and in the progress, Wrecker gets his own little explosive enthusiast who also looks adorable when there’s soot you accidentally rubbed on your face, and he tries to rub it off but only makes it worse.

✦ Hunter ✦

Hunter is honestly probably the best all-around teacher. He is patient enough and helpful, and provided it's not anything too dangerous (he’s already busted you and Wrecker trying to build flashbangs not once, not twice, but three times) he'll show you.

But while you'll never be able to do things on the level that he can thanks to his incredible senses, he can teach you all the little tricks he's learned; And ends up making you one hell of a tracker in the process. It ends up being a helpful set of skills to have, especially post Order-66.

He enjoys the walks in nature he takes with you while teaching you, listening to animals or tracking footprints, trying to learn the way animals(and people) move and the habits they have.

And, Hunter can't exactly help being a little prideful when he sees you are getting damn good at it, and know that he's the one that taught you.

✦ Echo ✦

Echo's someone who refuses your notion at teaching you at first under the pretense he thinks he would be an awful teacher.

This is something that's particularly true if he sees you as a gentler soul than he is; He's got that ARC Trooper discipline, and doesn't want to end up hurting your feelings.

He ends up finding a middle ground of you watching him, and injecting a bit of conversation every now and again.

But as time passes, Echo ends up slowly over time teaching you how to help with his cybernetics; And thus you end up learning about cybernetics in general.

It's normally Tech that does it, particularly any sort of upgrade and while Tech is great; There's something about you that’s much more soothing. Tech is, clinical to say the least, and working with particularly his legs is traumatic at times. He prefers teaching you how to do it, and feeling your more gentle touch and voice.

And as a side effect you end up getting quite good with the stuff, particularly problem solving; As Echo's enhancements are far from standard. And as such eventually Tech (abit grumpily) allows you to just handle everything for Echo apart from any emergencies or critical things.

And something that was once pretty hard for Echo actually turns into a bit of a teaching moment, as he points and guides your hands around masses of wires and metal.

'You're a great teacher' You say at one point, and then quickly laugh at how his face noticeably heats up.

#mywriting #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #echo x reader

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michelle-is-writing · 3 years

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Valentines Day Surprise, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1k~

An early Valentine’s Day imagine

Spencer's POV

Valentine's day was never a special holiday for me. When I was a teenager, I didn't have girlfriends like the other boys around me simply because I was never in the right environment. When I graduated high school, I was twelve so there was no way I was getting a girlfriend in college. Because of this, I never had a solid reason to celebrate it. However, now that I'm older and in a relationship with the love of my life, I do have a reason to celebrate it.

For the past three Valentine's days, (Y/n) and I have spent it together, either watching movies or cooking a meal together. Yes, most couples go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant for the holiday, but (Y/n) and I usually cook together. We do what we want to do and whatever we feel like in that moment. In my eyes, we have a perfect relationship, and I hope (Y/n) holds the same view.

Although, this Valentine's day is different. Unfortunately, I'm on a case that's eight hours away, so we can't do what we usually do. Before I left for work, I promised (Y/n) I'd make it up to her and kissed her before leaving. Even though it's Valentine's day and we're not together, it doesn't make it any different. We don't have to be beside each other to talk about our days; although, I do prefer being by her side. She makes me feel loved and warm whenever I'm around her, so I can't help but want to be with her.

Not to mention that the hotel we're staying at overbooked and we were forced to share rooms. Rossi was stuck with Hotch, Prentiss and JJ took a room, and lastly, Morgan called the only room with one single bed. Because of this, I was left with Garcia. There's nothing wrong with Garcia, but because it's Valentine's day, I can't help but want to stay to myself due to the fact I can't be with (Y/n).

As of right now, it's midnight here, but back in Quantico, it's around two or three. Currently, I'm lying on the hotel room couch going through files, while fighting for my eyes to stay open at the same time. "You should get some sleep, Reid," I hear Garcia sleepily grumble from her hotel bed, her eyes covered by her sleep mask. "You know (Y/n) would be on you right now for not being in bed."

I smirk, knowing she's right. "I know," I tell Garcia. "But I just need to do this one last thing."

I hear her chuckle. "Maybe you should check your recents on your laptop," She suggests, before laying her head back down on her pillow.

Looking toward her with my eyebrows furrowed, I become confused. Why would I do that? Why would I specifically do that? Maybe Garcia put something on my computer that I don't know about.

Pulling my laptop from my bag, I place it on my lap and open it, typing in my password before going into my recents folder like she said. The most recent thing on there is a video labeled "watch me." Even more confused, I double click it, the video loading right after it.

On my screen, (Y/n) appears grinning and waving her hands. "Hi, Spence baby!" She greets, her voice bringing a smile to my face. She must've done this while I was in the shower, going by the fact that she's still in her pajamas.

"I know it's Valentine's day, and trust me, I wish you were here, but you can't be and we can't help that," she smiles sadly, perking up almost immediately. "However! The most romantic time of the year is not over yet and I just wanted to tell you that you're doing a fantastic job at whatever you're doing and I love you," she smiles at the camera carefully before her eyes widen and her lips form into an 'o' shape. "Oh! And I almost forgot!" She leans in close to the camera, smirking. "I have a surprise for you when you get home."

With that, she blows a kiss at the camera and the video ends, leaving me with blushing cheeks and my hand hiding my almost painful smirk. (Y/n) must have gotten the password to my computer from Garcia and that's how she knew.

"Maybe she's going to give you a strip tease when you get home," Penelope teases with a playful and amused grin. Uncovering my mouth and showing my smile, I close my laptop and push it back into my bag.

"I hope so," I confess, my eyes widening as I realize what I just said to Garcia. Looking over at her, I see her with her mask now on her forehead and an open mouth grin taking over her playful smile. "Don't tell Morgan I said that," I immediately beg her.

At my words, she laughs. "You're a kinky bitch, aren't you!?" She asks, utterly amused meanwhile I feel my skin turn scarlet red. Instead of saying anything else and possibly getting in trouble by (Y/n), I stay quiet, watching as Garcia becomes more amused as each second passes.

"Who would have thought the quiet Doctor Spencer Reid is kinky!" Garcia gasps, nearly shouting as she laughs even harder.

"The quiet ones are always freaky." We hear Rossi's muffled voice come through the wall behind Garcia, making my eyes widen even more. Still laughing, Garcia lays back down and slowly calms down. On the other hand, I pinch the bridge of my nose between my two fingers while emitting a sigh through my lips.

I'm never going to be able to live this down.

For my entire life.

But that’s okay - It’s not like I was lying.

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Weigh Me Down

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,221 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad bod Hotch, Physical domination, Manhandling, Slapping, Choking, Mild breath play, Sir kink, Oral sex, Rough sex, Unprotected sex, Biting, Begging, Dirty Talk Summary: You always knew being the kind of girl who runs her mouth would get you in trouble eventually; you just had no idea how incredible being in trouble could feel. *Inspired by @unicornprancing. Link to A03 or read below! It’s always the quiet ones: it’s a cliché because it’s true, something you’ve never really given much thought to because you are not a quiet one. You talk a lot, laugh a lot, aren’t afraid to speak your mind—it can get you in trouble at work, when local law enforcement is being stubborn and you give them a piece of your mind, or when Hotch gives an order that makes no sense, like stay behind me.

Has he met you? You aren’t the stay behind me type, not by a long shot, so when he says that or something like that, it always leads to you running your big mouth and starting an argument.

You are surprised as hell when one of those arguments follows you back to the office and, in an apparent effort to get you to stop talking, Hotch presses your back against his closed door with his body and puts his hands on either side of your head, leaning in to kiss you rough and deep.

Kissing Hotch is not a thought you've ever entertained. It’s not that you don’t find him attractive—he’s pretty much everything you dream about in a man, tall and strong and commanding, with dark hair and big hands and a withering stare. It’s more that you are so different, that you are loud and lively where he is quiet and clearly repressed; the idea of the two of you together just doesn’t make sense, until it really, really does.

You fist your hands in his shirt, arch up to press your hips against his, and he puts his hands on your body and shoves you back against the door; there’s something hanging on the wall to your right, and its frame rattles with the force of it. You moan into the kiss, and he pulls back, panting, to look into your eyes.

“Was just trying to shut you up for a change,” he says, low, and you lick your lips, look over his face. He’s still angry, and his hands are hard on your hips, holding you down when you try to press up again. Your heart is pounding, your breathing harsh.

“It was working.” His eyes sweep over your lips, your heaving chest, and you suddenly want so many things, starting with his mouth on yours immediately. “Maybe try again.”

He tilts his head, looking like he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or purposefully deny you what you’re asking for, but ultimately he gives in, leans in, takes your face in one of his big hands and kisses you hard.

You twist your fingers tighter in his shirt, slip him your tongue, and struggle against his hand so he’ll let you make contact, so you can feel the raging hard-on he has to be sporting. He takes his hand off your hip, and you think you’ve won, but he slides a thigh between your legs instead, pins you against the door that way, and grabs your wrists; he pulls your hands away from his shirt despite your tightening grip, holds your arms over your head, and deepens the kiss, makes it wetter and messier.

All your life, you have wanted this: someone bigger and stronger who could handle you at your mouthiest, who could calm the fire that’s always raging inside you and wind you up at the same time. Men have always been intimidated because you’re in the FBI, or because you were a cop, and for those reasons you’re also physically more capable than they expect; plenty of guys enjoy having a girlfriend who can rough them up a little, but not the guys you want. The guys you want see your strength, your fortitude, and they go running.

Hotch knows all of this about you, and he’s not running.

Far from running, he is crowding you up against the door, his body and his hands and his unrelenting mouth bringing you such pleasure you’re tempted to try to rub off against his leg. You grind against it, more to see what he will do than to actually try to achieve anything, and he shifts so both of your wrists are in one hand, brings the other to your jaw to hold it still. When he stops kissing you, you whimper at the loss.

“No.” So deep it’s almost a growl, his command is one you can feel in your bones, and you swallow hard. Your eyes are fixed on his, and you grind up against him again; his hand flexes on your jaw, presses into the bone, and while that feels really good, there’s something you want even more. You cover his hand with yours—his grip loosens, either because he knows you’re trying to ask for more or because he thinks you’ve had too much—and slide it to your cheek.

You let him go, look up at him, breathless, and he pulls back and slaps your face: not too hard, or too soft, just enough to sting and soak your panties. You gasp, lick your lips, dazed, and he switches hands, hold your wrists together with one and slaps the opposite cheek with the other. He takes your jaw in his hand again, tilts your face up like he’s daring you to act up.

You contemplate it, quickly weigh the pros and cons—acting up is looking better by the minute—but someone comes up and knocks on the door, right behind your head.

Hotch drops your hands, steps back, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, try to snap out of the trance you’ve found yourself in. He turns around, presses his hand against the front of his pants, clears his throat and says, “come in.”

It’s JJ, and she gives the both of you a concerned once over when she enters; she was in the SUV with you on the way back from the airport, had a front row seat to the argument that started it all. You can’t imagine how you look—flushed, breathless, a little confused?—but Hotch somehow manages to look unaffected, like he’s really just been up here bickering with you all this time. You envy his composure.

“I was just getting ready to leave, wanted to make sure you guys didn’t need anything.” He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and looks over at you; you shake your head too, hope that your inability to do much more than stand there can be attributed to the fight she clearly thinks the two of you were having. “Okay then. Have a nice weekend,” she says, flashing a soft smile, and she leaves, closes the door behind her. Hotch blows out a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair.

“Look,” he says, and your heart sinks so fast. You really thought for a second that things might be different with him. That you finally found what you’d been looking for.

“No, I get it,” you manage to say, and your voice is rough, but you look him dead in the eye because that’s who you are. “You didn’t mean for it to go that far. We can pretend it didn’t happen.”

You’re surprised again when he frowns, shakes his head.

“No. Well, yes, but no. I didn’t mean to take it that far, I’ve never—I’ve never done that.” He wets his lips and takes a step closer to you, and already your body knows how to react to his proximity. It’s like a switch was flipped, and now it can’t be unflipped. “But I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. Not if you don’t.”

You breathe heavily, let silence blanket the room for one heartbeat, two. Twenty.

“I don’t. I really don’t.” He takes another step closer, brings a hand to your cheek, but this time his touch is gentle.

“Then we won’t.”

His mouth, when it finds yours, is not gentle. It is bruising, probing, his tongue seeking yours, and you wrap your arms around his back, his shoulders, encourage it, until one of your hands drops to his belt and he grabs it, forces it down at your side.

“Not here,” he says through gritted teeth—probably because, while he’s saying no, the unmistakable bulge in his pants is actually begging yes. You move the hand he’s not holding, brush it through his hair, and he blinks slow. “Do you want to come home with me tonight?”

You’re pretty sure you’ve never wanted anything more in your goddamn life. The ride to Hotch’s place is slightly awkward. You are both mostly silent, in that stage of the hookup where you’re both reliving how you got here, wondering what will happen, if this is the right thing, if it’s worth it.

From everything you’ve seen so far, it’s really fucking worth it.

His apartment is very nice, clean, kind of bare in that modern bachelor way. Yours isn’t much better, because you are always at work, always looking at photos of missing women instead of your family and friends. You run a hand along the sofa—large, black, suede—and comment on it just to say something, and he puts his hands gently on either side of your throat, kisses you, and looms over you so you are forced to settle back onto it.

You lay back, one foot on the floor and the other leg stretched along the length of the cushions, and he pushes his way between your knees, drapes himself over top of you, kisses some more. You run your hands over him because he lets you, truly feeling his body for the first time, and the thickness, solidness, softness has you moaning against his lips for more.

He leans up, takes one hand off your throat, and moves the other to the front of it, his fingers digging into the sides of your neck. The image of him on top of you like this, your literal life, safety, comfort in his hands… it’s intoxicating, and you nod just slightly, to let him know that if he wants, this is something he can have. Something he can take.

He bends down to brush his lips over yours, then over your throat, your ear. “Just a little,” he murmurs, squeezing tight. “I’d prefer to discuss it more—unless you wanted to stop and do that now.” There is a smirk in his voice when he says it, because he knows already that stopping is the furthest thing from your mind. You’ll take just a little, for now.

He leans up again, flexes that hand on your throat in a way that makes your eyelids flutter. With his free hand, he loosens the knot of his tie, pulls it off, starts slipping his buttons free.

Undressing himself on top of you, making eye contact, restricting your air supply—never before have you been willing to give a man free rein of your body, but there’s a first time for everything, and he’s quickly earning himself a key to your kingdom. Your body thrums at the idea of being at his complete mercy, tied up maybe, legs spread, edged with his mouth and hands until all you can do is whine his name and beg to come.

Your face heats, and you whimper, and he loosens his grip, brushes his thumb over your mouth.

“Good girl. Are you alright?” You lick your lips, swiping your tongue over the pad of his finger, and nod.

“Yes, sir.”

You would never be insubordinate—okay, you absolutely would be, have been, were earlier today—but authority is not really your friend, so you aren’t the type of person to throw sir around like it’s second nature. Your use of the title here is deliberate—call it a hunch—and when his eyes darken, it’s clear it’s worth swallowing your pride over.

He takes his hand off of you, makes quicker work of his shirt with both hands available to him. You look down at his crotch, and he pauses to bring his hands to yours, moves them to his belt, giving you permission to open it. The clink of the buckle feels obscene in his quiet apartment, and you untuck his shirt so he can pull it off, left only in a tight undershirt that emphasizes every curve of muscle, the bit of softness across his midsection. He’s perfect, and you run your hands over him, moan, make sure that he knows it.

He pulls your t-shirt off, unhooks your bra and kisses your throat, your chest, cups your breasts in his hands and teases your nipples with a pointed tongue. You let your head fall back, because it feels so good and you want to feel his tongue lower, wonder how he’d react to the taste of the slickness that’s been pooling in your panties since he slammed you up against that door.

“Fuck. Please.” He looks up at you from where he’s mouthing at your breasts, pulls off with a wet sound and rubs his hand up your chest to curl around your neck.

“You have to tell me what you want, sweetheart. I’m not a mind reader.” You whimper, and he presses his thumb into your mouth, lets you suck on it a moment before easing it out. “Always running your mouth, always disobeying me. Always have to have the last word. Where’s that mouthy girl now?” You stare up at him, say nothing, and he slaps your cheek, pushes two fingers into your mouth when it falls open in a moan.

He’s back to undressing one handed, stands while his fingers thrust over your tongue and pushes his pants down, his underwear. You moan when his cock springs up, big and full, and you bob your head a little so maybe he’ll get that you want to give him a sickeningly sloppy blow job.

“No, you don’t get this yet,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and spreading the wetness over the dark head of his dick. “You don’t get anything until I give it to you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you promise with a nod, and he pulls his undershirt off and works your pants open, drags them down your legs. He exhales deeply when presented with your panties—you’re certain they’re obscenely, visibly wet, and it’s confirmed when pulls them off and you can feel how messy you are, your sticky arousal coating your pussy, ass, and thighs.

He pushes your legs up, leans in, and swipes his tongue over you, from your opening to your clit, then over your inner thighs, and you moan, buck against him. Moving his hands to just behind your knees, he holds you tightly, lays his arms over the length of your pushed up thighs, presses down so you can’t move. You whimper at the restriction, and he presses harder, dives down to lick and kiss your pussy, to tug at your lips gently with his teeth.

“All this because of a little roughness?” he asks with a delicious jab of his tongue inside your aching hole. “Soaking your panties because I slapped your pretty face?” You pant, nod, and he rubs his tongue hard against your clit, gets you so close you can hear the change in your own voice as you moan, and then pulls back. “You’ve been needing someone to put you in your place for a while, haven’t you? Someone who can take hold of that smart mouth and render you silent. Do I have it right, baby?”

He has it exactly right and he knows it, only asks to hear you say the two words he probably never imagined he’d get out of you.

“Yes, sir.” It’s strained and weak, and he lays one forearm across your thighs, holds you down, and batters your clit with his tongue, rubs his huge hand over your hot, sensitive pussy until you come whining and trying desperately to move against him even though you can’t. “Oh my god, Hotch, fuck.”

He kisses you as soon as you sag against the sofa, groaning against your mouth, running his hands over your hips, and you are still trying to catch your breath when he gets his arms around you, scoops you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he tosses you roughly onto the bed, your body bouncing from the force, and then turns you over and wastes no time thrusting inside you, laying on top of you, his full weight all but guaranteeing you’ll come fast and hard.

“Does that feel good?” he grunts in your ear, pounding against your ass, and you whimper, claw at the sheets. He covers your hands with his, laces your fingers so you can't move them, pushes your hair off of the back of your neck with his nose. “Good girl, just lay there and take my cock. You aren’t the type to put up a fight, are you?”

That shouldn’t turn you on like it does, but you live to fight, and now that you have this incredible, sexy, strong man on top of you, dominating you the way you’ve only dreamed, it just comes naturally.

You try to buck back against his thighs but can’t because he’s so heavy, his thrusts so deep and rough. You try to get your arms free, whine when he holds your hands tighter, when he presses his biceps down against the backs of your arms so they can’t move at all. You thrash your head, moaning, loud, nearly primal sounds of pleasure, and he puts his mouth against the back of your neck, bites down hard like you’re an animal he’s forcing to submit.

“Settle, settle; just let me fuck you, let me come inside. You’re no match for me, sweetheart.” Your eyes roll back in your head as he speaks it into your ear, as he rocks his thighs against your ass, as you can feel the muscles of his stomach flex against your lower back. He uses your body, truly, every inch of it covered and compressed by the weight of him, forcing your breasts and clit to rub against the comforter; any one thing he’s doing would be enough, but all of it combined is almost too much, and you whimper, desperate, needy. “Too weak to do anything but let yourself be fucked, aren’t you? Whether or not we come is up to me.”

“Mmh, yes sir,” you breathe, and he leans in to bite the back of your neck again, possessive and rough. It sends a wave of arousal through your whole body, makes your pussy throb and ache. “Oh, god. Please, please make me come. Please use me to come.” Your voice is high, eager, so unlike you’ve ever heard it before that it somehow only adds to your pleasure.

“Using you, baby,” he groans in your ear, thrusting faster, harder, the fleshy smack of your thighs as he fucks and the wetness of your cunt as you take him in filthy and amazing. “I’ll make you come, I’ll come in you, if you promise to be a good girl for me. Are you a good girl?”

God, he’s really going to make you say this. Being a sweet, subservient girl is not in your nature, but it could be, for him. You’d be anything he wants you to be.

“Yes, sir,” you murmur, and he lifts one hand off of yours and puts it on the side of your head, pressing your cheek against the bed while he fucks you.

“Louder.”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice is louder, but less convincing, and he trails his lips over the curve of your ear, sinks his teeth into your exposed throat.

“Louder.” He punctuates it with a hard, almost brutal snap of his hips, and you can feel your orgasm so close, try not to become so focused on the feeling that you miss out on all the rest.

“Yes, sir, I’m a good girl. Please, please.” He picks up the pace, crushing you against the bed, beneath his weight, and you are sweaty, breathless, out of control—perfect.

“Yes you are, and you’re going to come for me.” Soft lips brush over the stinging bites he left on your neck, and he swipes his tongue over them, soothes them. “Who are you going to come for?”

“You, sir,” you gasp, body tensing, pussy clenching, and he groans.

“Who are you going to come for? I need a name, baby.” You whimper, moan, wish you could kiss him, taste him, and when you come it is violent, lengthy, gripping your whole body and dragging it somewhere you’ve never been.

“Aaron—oh, god, I’m coming for you, Aaron. Please, please.” Your eyes water as he fucks you through it, pumping deep until he spills inside you, panting that’s right, easy, just like that in your ear until he’s spent.

He settles on top of you, and the layer of sweat between you should feel disgusting, but it just makes you feel closer to him, like a good girl, like you earned the reminder of how hard you both worked, how hard you came.

He is all sweet kisses and gentle hands, asking if you are alright, praising your performance, your body; it feels so good, his velvet voice wrapping around you, his heavy body pressing down on yours.

You shower after that, so you can sleep; notorious insomniac that you are, he chuckles in your ear when you start to drift off in his arms almost instantly after he gets you both situated in bed. You wake to gentle hands sweeping over your body. You are bruised where he held you down, sore all over in the very best way; you hum at his touch, turn to face him so you can collect soft, sleepy kisses. You drape your arm over his stomach, bury your face in his chest, and he rubs his hand over the back of your neck where you are bitten and raw and claimed. It turns you on—the feel, the memory, the implication—and he lays you back against the bed, puts a pillow under your ass, then settles between your legs and kisses your mouth.

“Going to make you feel really good, baby. Just do as I say, be a good girl, and I promise I’ll make you come.” You nod, tired but horny and ready to do as he says, and he leans up over you, wraps his hands around your shoulders, hooks his chin against your neck. His weight is pressing down on you again, but this time it’s different, sweeter and more intimate. You smile softly, wet your lips.

He slides inside you, maneuvers your legs up over his thighs, and rocks upward, his pelvis lined up in such a way that it rubs right over your clit. You moan, wrap your arms around his back, roll your hips while he grinds against you, pumping shallowly inside but, more importantly, stimulating your clit with each stroke.

“Aaron,” you sigh, holding him tightly while he moves against you, and you throw your head back, gasp and groan while his heavy body glides over yours, while he breathes roughly in your ear.

“Yes, baby. Feels good? Want your sweet pussy to feel good, after I was rough last night.”

“Yes, sir, feels good.” It leaves your mouth as a groan as he humps against you right over your clit, as he tilts his head to kiss you softly below your ear.

“Not sir right now, just Aaron.” You hum, clutch him tighter, move against him, feel the tip of his cock come so close to slipping out just to have it pushed carefully back inside.

“Feels really good. I’m close.” He grinds a little faster, body rolling harder against yours, and you shudder, dig your nails in, and climax, easy and slow and delicious. He praises you even though, again, you didn’t do much, then leans up on his forearms and pushes in fully, thrusts quick and deep. “Mmm, yeah. Want your come.” You pull him close for a kiss, grip his shoulders hard while he fucks you fast, desperate.

You kiss his arms when he comes, panting and gorgeous over you, and when he collapses onto you you wrap your arms and legs around him, hold him tightly, and hum.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” he asks, knows that sound, and you press your lips to his shoulder.

“Just thinking how nice this is. How I like that last night isn’t all you want from me.” He makes eye contact, smooths your hair back, brushes a kiss against your mouth.

“I want anything—everything. I think we could be really good together, despite our differences… if that’s something you want.” You nod, smile softly, and he reciprocates, leans in for more easy kisses. “One thing, though: when I tell you to stay behind me, stay behind me.” Your smile melts into a scowl.

“You wouldn’t tell Derek to stay behind you!”

“Why are you comparing yourself to Derek? Why are you comparing at all, I told you—”

“I know what you told me, and it’s bullshit, so forgive me if I—”

“I don’t forgive you, actually, and if you keep talking back to me—”

“What are you going to do?” He demonstrates. It’s extremely effective. You still don’t stay behind him when he tells you to.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #prompt #unicornprancing

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abraxos-and-ataraxia · 2 years

Text

The Outlaw and the Desert Flower

Part 1

Pairing: Lucien x Elain

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: hella violence (these are bad bad men), a teaspoon of teasing smut

Summary: Wild West Lucien and prairie girl Elain.

The vanserra gang is ruthless—Beron raised them that way—but Lucien always struggled to stomach the violence the others seemed to crave. When Lucien finds himself separated from the gang, bleeding out on his horse, it’s pure luck that brings him to a familiar cabin and a familiar face he can’t stop thinking of.

Tagging: @rarephloxes, @the-lonelybarricade, @separatist-apologist (because I know all of you were very invested in this concept, I hope you don’t mind)

And thank you so much to @velidewrites for the gorgeous moodboard!

* * * * *

The wind doubled back, making Lucien cough on a mouthful of dust. He wiped his eyes roughly, squinting at the valley below. The rest of the boys were riding towards the town, kicking up a cloud of dirt behind them. He’d begged off, claiming a hangover, and Beron hadn’t questioned it. Instead, he sent Lucien to scout the hills, keeping an eye out for any other trouble. After all, the Vanserra gang was trouble enough.

Lucien tightened his knees, guiding his horse up the trail. He was aiming for the bluff, figuring it gave him a good view of the town and the surrounding land. Lucien ignored the faint pops of gunfire echoing across the rocky basin. He didn’t look back again.

The trail leveled out, and Lucien scanned the hills outside of town. Nothing. The one good thing about this land was the inability to remain unnoticed. Any large group kicked up dust. The Vanserras didn’t care if people saw them coming. Fear was a good motivator.

He rounded a copse of trees, slowing the horse to a walk. There was a small cabin. Reaching behind him, Lucien checked the placement of his rifle, the pistols at his waist. No need to draw, not yet. He pasted on a more pleasant expression, changing from scarred outlaw to weary traveler. There was no telling if the cabin was occupied, and until he knew better, it was best to remain unthreatening. Never go in alone with guns blazing, he reminded himself.

The cabin had seen better days, the roof sagging a bit at one corner. It looked like a few sandstorms had chewed on it, too. Shutters hung crooked on the small windows, and the door was pocked with birdshot. But the garden surrounding the small house was pristine. Lucien frowned. Obviously someone was better in the dirt than with a hammer and nails.

The sound of a rifle being cocked made him freeze, his horse stopping in the center of the trail. “I don’t give warnings,” a cold voice said. “Turn around and maybe I won’t blow a hole in you.”

Lucien dutifully raised his hands high. “I don’t mean any harm,” he called, eyes scanning the shadows. “Just got a bit turned around.”

A woman stepped out from around the side of the cabin, long rifle aimed for his chest. Her eyes were hard steel. “The quickest way out is to turn right around again,” she said.

After a quick internal debate, Lucien figured he could circle back down to the town. Better than seeing if this woman would follow through on her threat. From the look on her face, he didn’t doubt she’d sent her fair share of men running off, with or without injuries.

He’d just shifted his legs to turn the horse when he saw the figure crouched in the garden. She was frozen, kneeling in a patch of vegetables. Bronze hair tumbled over her shoulders, the same shade as the riflewoman. Sisters, perhaps. Only this one had eyes the shade of tilled earth, wide and unblinking. Shock paled her cheeks, dusted with a smattering of freckles. Lucien tried to feel guilty for the fear in her expression, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. He’d seen a lot of women—slept with them, too—but in that moment, he forgot every face but hers.

The other sister noticed the direction of his gaze, her glare intensifying. “Leave,” she hissed. “Before I decide I’d prefer your brains on the ground.” But she still didn’t fire a shot, aware that the sound would draw attention. Perhaps she’d seen the gang roll into town. Smart woman.

A sudden gust of wind had Lucien grabbing his hat, lest he lose it. The woman in the garden didn’t react in time. Her straw hat blew towards him, lightweight enough to soar higher.

Thinking fast, Lucien reached up to snatch it, using his momentum to slide out of the saddle. His boots thumped the dirt, making the steely woman snarl. She spat curses as he moved closer, one slow step at a time. “Easy,” he murmured, but even Lucien was unsure which woman he was speaking to. Both, perhaps. The viper ceased her hissing when Lucien stopped just before the garden, hat extended. The beautiful woman just looked at him, her face catching the sun like a flower. “I believe this is yours, ma’am,” he said, voice quiet in case she spooked.

The woman reached out to take it with trembling fingers. As soon as it left Lucien’s grasp, the end of a rifle kissed the back of his neck. He blinked, not even realizing the other woman had approached. Stupid of him, letting her sneak up like that. He’d been distracted.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you.”

Lucien kept his face blank, watching the brown-eyed one scramble back to cower against the wall of the cabin, clutching the hat to her chest. His own chest twisted in response. “Because if I wanted to, you’d both be dead by now,” he said. It was true. He knew the viper could sense it, too. “But I don’t. So you’ll let me go, and no one else will bother you today.”

The rifle dug deeper for a heartbeat, then two. And then it disappeared, the woman backing away quickly. “If I ever see you again,” she threatened, keeping the muzzle aimed at his chest, even now.

“You won’t,” Lucien assured, walking briskly back to his horse. He swung into the saddle in an easy movement, eyeing the two women and their ramshackle home. “I have no reason to come back here.”

But the words stayed in his throat, burning as he trotted the horse back down the trail. They felt like a lie.

* * * * *

Two years later

It was supposed to be quick. Beron sent Eris to scout the town a few days before. The saloon owner was loaded, with some kind of backing from a bank in the East. The bank had seen better days, but money was money. And with a greenhorn sheriff, in his post less than a year, it was easy pickings.

Lucien felt like they’d come through before, but couldn’t be certain. The women at the whorehouse weren’t familiar, but then, they never were.

After the men had enjoyed themselves, Beron gave the signal. Everything dissolved into chaos after that. The saloon owner pissed himself, opening the safe without a fuss. At the bank, they ran into the sheriff, but a few shots to the head solved that problem. Eris ran down a few do-gooders, the act itself serving as a warning to the rest of them: squeal and you’re next.

Lucien did his best to look busy. His father had been watching him like a hawk of late, sensing something was off. He wasn’t wrong. Lucien had never quite grown accustomed to this life, not the way Eris and the others had. It soured something in his stomach. He coasted along on appearances, firing shots into bodies that were already growing cold, rather than ending screams. He’d lost his taste for bloodletting, if he ever had it.

He’d certainly never had a taste for inflicting pain, no matter how often Beron tied him down to teach him.

Everything was going well, the whiskey and money and blood flowing freely, until suddenly it wasn’t. Shots fired, a storm of them. Lucien looked up, frantically searching for the source. The resistance had ended thirty minutes ago, so who was causing a fuss? A cloud of dust rose, billowing into town behind three men, badges on their chests. Lucien cursed, overturning a table and dropping the bottle in his hand. He ran for his horse, fingers fumbling for a weapon, any weapon. He’d only just managed to scramble into the saddle when his shoulder erupted, burning fiercely. Blood spurted between his fingers, staining his horse’s flank.

He kicked weakly, urging the beast forward, away, anywhere else but there. He pressed down on the wound, pain shooting stars across his vision, as he rode hard for the outskirts of town. Hooves thundered around him, the others having the same idea. The gang scattered, racing down different streets and into the hills. They’d find each other again, they always did. But in the heat of the moment, it was every man for himself. That’s what they’d been taught.

Lucien held onto the saddle, reins wrapped around his wrist. He didn’t care where the horse was taking him, could barely keep his eyes open. Fuck. He’d have to stop the blood loss, provided he hadn’t lost too much already. He gripped tighter, praying he stayed in the saddle long enough to get to safety, then he could worry about staying alive.

He blinked, and his surroundings changed. Blinked, starlight flickering overhead, surrounded by barren hills. Blinked, finding himself in a stand of trees. Blinked, and there was a tiny cabin.

Lucien’s head spun, and he listed to the left, falling to the dirt with a groan. His horse nickered, nudging him before nibbling on some grass nearby. Everything hurt, but the night sky caught and held his attention. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to die, he thought. At least he’d seen something beautiful before it happened.

Then a face appeared in his vision, and his breath caught. Her mouth moved, but he couldn’t hear a thing. Beautiful, Lucien sighed, grateful again. He could die a happy man. His eyes closed, pleased with the angel who’d come to collect his wretched soul. Beautiful.

* * * * *

“Hold him down. Dammit, Elain, sit on him if you have to.”

Lucien struggled through darkness as thick as molasses, fighting to regain consciousness. Where was he—

Pain struck him like lightning, sending him shooting back to himself. He bucked, the world flashing white-hot. “Stay still,” a voice hissed in his ear. The agony returned, digging into his shoulder without mercy.

Another voice came, tentative. “But he’s—”

“I don’t care. If I don’t do this, he’ll die, and you can bury him,” the first woman snapped. “I’d have been happier leaving him in the dirt outside.”

“Blood is bad for the tomatoes.” Despite the burning in his chest, Lucien nearly smiled at that. Blood was bad for tomatoes, he marveled. He never knew that. Perhaps it wasn’t, perhaps it was.

“I bet he’d be good fertilizer.” Lucien knew that voice, he realized. His memory was foggy, but it was definitely familiar. “Almost done.” She did something, tugging hard, and Lucien’s vision spotted. He gasped, tumbling back into darkness.

* * * * *

“Do you think…he’s alright?”

A snort. “He’s breathing, isn’t he?”

Lucien groaned, shoulder throbbing dully. He blinked open his eyes, which seemed glued shut. Light streamed overhead, touching on rough-hewn wooden beams. He was in a bed, miraculously. Rough blankets scratched his bare skin. Looking down, he lifted the bedding, relieved to find his pants still on. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up here, but an overnight stay at any brothel was bound to cost a pretty penny. And what had happened to his shoulder?

“You’re awake,” a soft voice came from the side of the bed.

Turning his head, Lucien came face-to-face with pink cheeks and tumbled curls. He pulled the blankets back up his chest, almost embarrassed for her. This one was too innocent for the likes of him. Before he could ask any questions, he caught a glimpse over her shoulder.

A table and chairs, a small fireplace, and a worn couch. Threadbare rugs, copper kettle on the counter. A milk jar filled with flowers. He frowned. This wasn’t a saloon or a whorehouse or even an inn.

Then another woman approached, steely gray eyes narrowed down at him. He swallowed, memory supplying him with the image of her armed with a long rifle. Lucien knew her, knew both of these women and the cabin he was currently in. “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right,” the viper snapped, wrapping her arm protectively around the other woman. The look on her face said she expected him to kill them at the first opportunity. He wouldn’t, but they didn’t know that.

“What happened?” Lucien struggled to sit up, but found himself too weak to do more than lift his head.

“You showed up at our door in the middle of the night,” the brown-eyed one said gently.

“Bleeding like a stuck pig,” the viper hissed. “She wouldn’t let me leave you there. Besides, it would be too much effort to bury you.”

Lucien snorted. “I’m sorry for scaring you like that,” he began.

“We don’t want your empty apologies, we want you to leave.” The icy woman narrowed her gaze on him. “So as soon as you can get on your horse, you’ll be gone. And this time, you’ll stay gone.”

He nodded meekly, knowing when it was best not to argue. It wouldn’t help to point out that he hadn’t forced them to keep him, and he hadn’t planned on coming back.

The quiet one spoke up again, those eyes sparkling. “What’s your name?”

Lucien found himself blinking at her, unable to raise his defenses. “Lucien,” he said. He nearly smacked himself. He should have lied. Foolish of him.

The viper sneered, spinning on one heel and barrelling out the door. But the other one stayed at his side, expression soft. “I’m Elain. And that’s my sister, Nesta,” she said, waving to the door. “She doesn’t trust outsiders.”

“Good. She shouldn’t,” he found himself saying. “Neither should you.”

But Elain just smiled at him, and any other words vanished from his tongue. “I know your name now,” she said. “You’re only an outsider if you want to be.”

* * * * *

Unsurprisingly, the distrustful sister—Nesta—wanted nothing to do with him. So Elain was the one at his bedside, cleaning his wound and offering food or water. She held the glass to his lips, careful not to spill. She spooned gray porridge for him, apologizing for the lack of taste. And she told him stories when he grew restless from the pain. Despite knowing better, Lucien found that he liked her company.

He hated himself for it.

Lucien knew better than to get attached. Beron had taught him the dangers of doing so. Sooner or later, Lucien would leave and Elain would stay. One day, he’d die, probably in a shootout in a lonely town. Or she’d face a horrible end, if someone other than him stumbled across this cabin with two beautiful sisters. However it happened, Lucien knew he’d only hurt worse if he let her inside his defenses.

But how was he supposed to stop it? Something stilled his tongue every time he tried to form an insult, every time he reached for a harsh word to discourage her. It wasn’t the suspicious sister stopping him from hurting Elain. He simply couldn’t bear to do it.

So when Nesta finally warmed up to him enough to ask for his help, he gratefully accepted, fleeing the cabin and the woman inside it. The woman who was too kind to a man like him. He hoped she never realized how stained his hands truly were.

Lucien followed Nesta out of the cabin, steps weaker than they’d been before the injury, but he kept up well enough. He followed her to the rear corner of the building, seeing a collection of tools on the ground, alongside a ladder. “The roof leaks in the rain,” Nesta bit out, arms folded across her chest. “Are you any good with a hammer?”

He just nodded, helping her prop the ladder against the cabin and climbing up. She followed him with new roofing material. They spent a good hour or so, Lucien doing his best to rip up rotten wood with one hand, showing Nesta how to affix the replacement boards. She learned quickly, listening to every word, eyes attuned to his movements.

Lucien nearly jumped when Elain called up to them, one hand shading her eyes, “Come on down for lunch, you can finish the roof later.”

Nesta followed him down. “Thank you,” she muttered. Though her face was pinched with uncertainty, Lucien caught the sincerity weighing down the words.

He let himself smile at her, holding the door open. “I owe you.”

She snorted, and Elain looked over at them, wiping her hands on an apron. “We saved your life, of course you owe us,” Nesta said.

Lucien bowed his head, unable to argue with that.

* * * * *

A few days passed, Lucien offering to help the sisters around the house. As his shoulder regained strength, he managed to do more and more. He rehung the shutters, finished the roof with Nesta, and helped haul away garden debris for Elain. The tasks kept his mind from wandering to the others, no doubt looking for him by now. Or perhaps they assumed he was dead. He couldn’t decide which was worse. Or better. Lucien decided it was best to avoid thinking at all.

One day, Elain asked to borrow his horse. “I’d like to bring some vegetables to trade in town,” she said, ducking her head. “It’s always a pain to go on foot, so we don’t go often.”

“Of course,” he couldn’t refuse her. But Lucien found himself speaking again before his brain caught up. “I’ll go with you.”

“What,” Nesta barked, poking her head inside the cabin to stare at him.

“That would be wonderful,” Elain beamed, ignoring her sister. “You can scare away the old parishioners who like to cheat me.”

Lucien’s brows dropped. “They cheat you?” Nesta echoed him.

Elain simply laughed at them, “I guess I’m just too easy, I fall for the same sob stories every time. But Richmond’s mother died last month and he still tried telling me she was ill and craved potatoes.”

Lucien barked a laugh, and Nesta snorted, returning to whichever project held her attention that morning. “Should I bring the rifle or something else,” he tried to joke. Inwardly, he decided on bringing both pistols. Nesta would keep the rifle, as always.

“Just your charming personality,” Elain grinned.

“Just that,” Lucien trailed off, watching her humming over her baskets. She packed the vegetables tenderly, fingers tucking them away one by one. He wondered how much of it she would manage to trade. He wondered how they’d managed to eke out a living up here, with so little. He wondered how they even ended up in a place like this. Elain, he felt certain, was meant for greener places. Nesta would be vicious anywhere, but she didn’t fit in this barren place any more than her sister. Lucien bit his tongue before it could get him in trouble. He knew better than to ask, to grow any more attached. The less he knew, the better.

Lucien strapped the baskets to the saddle, Elain working in tandem on the other side. They’d walk into town, the journey taking half an hour if they hurried. And the same to come back. He eyed Elain warily, and found that she was already watching him with those curious brown eyes.

Her cheeks pinkened, but she still smiled at him. “We have a long way to walk, Lucien,” she said. He ignored the way his skin prickled when she said his name. Trouble, trouble, he reminded himself. “What should we talk about?”

Rather than letting her ask questions about him and his past, Lucien blurted out a question of his own. “How did you and Nesta end up here?”

Elain clicked her tongue, encouraging his horse to follow her down the trail. Lucien trailed behind her as well, equally obedient. He mentally kicked himself. “Well,” Elain began, thinking about it. “I suppose it all started with my younger sister, Feyre.”

“You have another sister?”

“She fell in love first, of the three of us,” Elain said. Her smile was different, bittersweet. “A whirlwind romance, he whisked her away from Boston, told her of riches that lay to the West.”

“A fool, then,” Lucien muttered.

Elain cast him a chiding look. “This is my story, remember,” she teased. “He truly was rich, and grew richer still after he returned with Feyre. She sent us letters, begging us to come as well. She told us of the beautiful scenery, the freedom there.” Elain sighed, head dropping a bit. “Nesta was doubtful. She said there was nothing for us there, that we needed to settle down and find stable husbands. She said we couldn’t all be lucky like Feyre. I didn’t want to believe her.” The look in her eyes told Lucien exactly what Elain had hoped she’d find in the West. And that she hadn’t found it.

“What happened?” Lucien prompted her gently, not wanting to poke around where he wasn’t wanted.

“We ran out of money,” she said simply. “Everything that could go wrong, did. The horses went lame, our guides stole and left in the night, and we ended up here with hardly anything left. So we made do.”

Nesta, that vicious viper, had gone with Elain to indulge her dreams, and had stuck by her side to ensure her sister didn’t pay for their mistakes too harshly. Lucien found himself relating to the barbed older sister, understanding the need that drove her. It was beginning to dig its claws into him, as well. “What about Feyre,” he managed to ask. “Did you write to her for help?”

Elain was notably quiet. He looked over the horse, finding her crying silently. “She didn’t come.”

* * * * *

They reached the town in silence. Lucien had tried to comfort Elain, but the woman had shut down entirely, refusing any touch or words from him. So he walked with her, cursing himself and the world and everyone who’d ever hurt the woman hiding behind his horse.

She perked up when they entered the town, pasting on a smile he knew to be fake. Her eyes told the truth, still mourning the dreams she had lost.

Lucien tied the horse to a post outside the general store. Elain motioned for him to wait there, then ducked inside. He counted the seconds, trying to hide his discomfort. These people didn’t know him, he’d never raided the town. But his family had. The scars lingered, bullet holes punched through doors and siding, anything that hadn’t yet been replaced. This store was no exception.

Elain popped back outside, waving wildly. “Bring the large basket,” she called, disappearing again.

He snorted, but did as she asked, a dutiful servant. Lucien didn’t know when he’d become so domestic, but found he didn’t mind the feeling. He carried the basket inside, setting it down on the counter in front of Elain with a heavy thump.

An elderly man inspected the contents, rheumy eyes fixed on his potential wares. Meanwhile, Elain chattered, selecting a few items from the shelves. “I’ll trade the whole basket for flour, sugar, salt, and some of these spices,” she declared.

Lucien cleared his throat, eyeing the amounts she’d laid out. Her eyes widened, but seemed to get his message. She put an additional sack of flour on the counter, and he smiled a bit.

“Hardly a fair trade,” the old man grumbled.

“I don’t see anyone else offering fresh vegetables here, do you,” he asked Elain, conversational.

The man straightened up, ready to retort, but Elain played along. “No, I suppose not. That makes my wares awfully valuable, doesn’t it,” she mused, tapping a finger on her chin. Lucien’s grin widened.

“Fine, fine, I’ll take them,” the man bit out, pushing the flour at them.

Elain smiled widely, helping him remove the vegetables from the basket. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said. Together, Lucien and Elain repacked the basket with her new goods, and he carried it back to the horse.

He finished tying it down. “Any other stops to make?”

“Let’s stop by the church,” she said, mouth twisted in thought. “And perhaps the inn. The owner offers food to guests, might like fresh produce.”

Lucien nodded, eyeing the street. “Inn first.”

Elain’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’re an awfully good salesman,” she said, lips curling up in a sweet smile.

It was effort to keep his eyes on hers. “You’re a fast learner,” Lucien managed, ignoring her soft mouth. He tore his gaze away, sucking in a breath. “Which basket?”

Elain hefted it herself. “This one,” she said, laughter in her voice. “Come on, Lucien.” He was helpless to resist her.

It wasn’t really an inn, he realized the second they walked through the doors. Half-brothel, half bar, with the option of beds and food if you had the money to pay. Lucien was pretty sure she only called in an inn to avoid the real words.

The owner was a tough man to please. “I’ve no need for expensive tomatoes,” he barked, wiping out a glass. “I make cheap soup and stew, nothing more.”

“But a good stew needs carrots and potatoes,” Elain wheedled. “Surely you can spare a few bottles of something in exchange.”

Lucien blinked, just realizing why they’d stopped. He hadn’t had a drop of liquor in…two weeks now? He hadn’t seen any around the cabin, though. Now he wondered what Elain planned to do with “a few bottles of something”.

The man curled his lip, a sour expression. “Very well. One bottle. Carrots and potatoes, ten each.”

Elain narrowed her gaze, predatory. “Five each.”

The man opened his mouth to argue, but Lucien leaned an arm on the bar, getting too close for comfort. The owner backed away a bit, but it was enough to encourage him. “Very well,” he ground out, handing Elain a bottle of whiskey. “They best be good potatoes.”

“Only the best,” she said sweetly.

Lucien was fairly sure he was in love with her.

* * * * *

Elain and Lucien left the church grinning like demons, having successfully exchanged the last of her wares for fabric and a soft blanket.

“You’d make a fine thief,” Lucien told her, folding the bundle into a saddlebag.

She laughed at that, running her fingers over the fabric. “I don’t know about that, but life here has taught me to play smarter.” Elain looked over at him, biting her lip. “I hoped to make you a new shirt,” she said. “Since your current one is a bit ruined.”

Lucien blinked, remembering the state of it. She wasn’t wrong. With a gaping bullet hole and rusty stains from his blood, it looked a bit horrific. He was only presentable in public because they’d managed to cover the worst of it with a well-placed scarf. While it looked a bit odd to wear in the warm weather, Lucien avoided the terrified looks he’d have gotten without it.

Elain went on, tightening straps to secure the load. “Fortunately, I’ve learned a thing or two about mending and sewing since coming here,” she said.

“Thank you, Elain. I’d love that.” At this rate, he wasn’t sure how he was ever going to leave.

Distant hoofbeats caught his attention, but the cloud of dust was what held it. Lucien blinked, disbelieving. As if out of a dream, or a nightmare, he heard the sound of gunshots. No.

Scrambling backwards, he wrapped one hand around the reins and the other around Elain. “Move,” he growled, tugging them around the side of the church. Away, they had to get away. The hills would hide them, he knew. They only had to find their way out of town and they’d be safe. But the sound of horses only grew louder, closing in. Furious with himself, Lucien shoved Elain ahead of him. “Go,” he barked the command, lifting his shirt to reveal the pistols holstered at his sides. “I’ll catch up. Take the horse and run for the hills. Get as far as you possibly can from town.”

Elain gasped, panic revealing the whites of her eyes. “No, Lucien,” she begged.

“Go,” he snarled again, before turning on his heel to face the threat. Whatever it was, he could handle it. He had to. He couldn’t bear to watch her fall, not now that he’d grown attached. Because he had.

Helluva time to realize how much he cared, Lucien thought wryly, skirting around the church. He pressed himself against the wall, peering into the dust-clouded street. Screams rang out, figures running through the haze, some of them falling.

When Lucien caught a glimpse of red hair beneath a wide-brimmed hat, his stomach turned to lead. No.

It didn’t really sink in until something sharp dug into his throat. Lucien dropped his pistol in the dirt. Rough fingers found and discarded the second one. “Hello, my boy,” a voice shivered over his ear. “Is this where you’ve been hiding?”

* * * * *

Beron hauled him to the saloon, hand wrapped around his collar. Eris met his gaze, amber eyes narrowed in suspicion. It seemed that no one knew what to believe. Lucien’s father certainly didn’t. If he’d been sure that Lucien ran away, he’d have killed him behind the church.

The fact that Lucien was still breathing was a miracle in itself. Beron had never trusted easily.

“Well, boy?”

“I was injured,” Lucien said hoarsely. In response, Eris slammed a glass down before him. Whiskey. Lucien tossed it back quickly, wetting his dry throat. “Passed out in the hills, almost bled out. Took me days before I could even sit up.” All truth.

“You couldn’t get to the meeting point?”

Lucien shook his head, maneuvering carefully now. “Today’s the first time I even managed to reach the town for supplies. Needed to before I could head anywhere.”

Beron watched him, eyes sharp. “Well, then. That answers that.” Lucien nearly slumped with relief. “We’ll sleep here tonight, leave in the morning. The boys got a little excited this time, half the town’s dead. No one to bother us now.”

The words twisted his stomach. Lucien wondered how many of the people he’d spoken to were gone. Perhaps Elain could come back for her vegetables later.

Eris walked outside, whistling to call the rest of them in. His boots thumped down the steps, fading away. Once he was sure they were alone, Beron turned to Lucien with a sharp smile. “I think it’s time for us to talk. A bit of truth, boy.”

Lucien just barely managed to stay in his seat, resisting the urge to run. He knew, he had to know. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the way you’re soft now,” Beron hissed. He pulled out a knife. “Should we see how soft?”

The gleam in his eyes, just like lamplight off the knife, was familiar. Lucien felt his pulse jump and tried not to squirm. “I’ve just been healing, that’s all,” he tried.

“I mean before this. You’ve been pathetic for a while. Hardly believe you’re my son,” Beron sneered. “You thought I didn’t notice how you always had a hangover? Always killed the ones who were dead or dying already? How you only pay for your whores?”

There it was. Lucien clenched his fists, back straightening. “I guess I’ve never fit in with the rest of you,” he said, voice level. “If you let me leave, I’ll never come back.”

“Let you leave,” Beron laughed. “You know better.” That knife neared his skin, cold against Lucien’s throat. History repeating itself. “If I don’t cut out the rot, it lingers, boy.”

Lucien had just opened his mouth, hoping to find some final words to stay his father’s hand, when a crack of lightning sounded. He blinked at Beron, then both of them looked down, ears ringing, to see the bloody bullseye spreading across Beron’s chest.

His father turned to face the door, and that’s when Lucien saw her. Elain, one of his pistols in her hands, legs spread wide as she fired another shot at Beron. Her aim was true, sending Lucien’s father stumbling into the bar, fingers slipping over the polished wood. He gurgled a bit, but Lucien ignored him.

Lucien scrambled to his feet, pulling Elain into the saloon. His eyes snagged on the shadows outside. The others would be there soon, called by the gunshots. “Elain,” he said desperately. “Elain, we have to go.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” she said, tears in her eyes. “But those things he said?”

“I know, I know,” Lucien said, fingers trembling. He cupped her face, taking the pistol from her. She was shaking more than he was. “I promise to tell you everything. But later. We need to go now, before they get here.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Eris drawled, leaning against the entrance. He twirled a gun in his hands, holstering it at his side in a slick movement. “Hello, little brother. Hello, little brother’s friend.”

“You’ll leave her out of this. Let her go, Eris,” Lucien demanded, shoving Elain behind him.

Eris laughed, waving a hand. “That was the plan. I came along to thank you, though I am a bit resentful. I always thought I’d kill him first.”

Lucien just blinked. “What?”

“Unlike father, I don’t hate your guts,” Eris said, brow raised. “If you want to stay, stay. I’ll take the boys and leave, probably won’t come back.”

Gritting his teeth, Lucien eyed his brother warily. It sounded like a trick, but Eris’ body language read true. “Why?”

Eris snorted. “Because father was a monster, and he was running us all to the ground anyway. It’s time for a bit of new leadership, don't you think? I’m taking the boys farther north, I’m sick of the heat. And maybe we could find some towns that haven’t been picked over a dozen times,” he said, sneering at Beron’s body.

Elain clutched at his back, fingers wrapping in his shirt. Lucien nodded slowly, lowering the muzzle of the pistol to the floor at last. “Fine. I don’t want to see you here again,” he warned. “I’m out, and I mean it.”

“Believe me,” Eris drawled, eyes on Lucien. His gaze slid to Elain then back again. “The feeling is mutual.”

* * * * *

While Lucien would have loved to press relieved kisses to every part of Elain’s body, he knew she was likely in shock. Not to mention the shock of having him kiss her for the first time while they were surrounded by bloody bodies.

He urged Elain up on Beron’s horse—he wouldn’t need it anymore, Lucien reasoned. Finding a gutted storefront, Lucien stole another horse for himself, seeing as the owners were no longer among the living. Together, he and Elain trekked back to the cabin with far more than they planned on.

Sometime before they reached the bluff, Elain snapped out of her quiet shock. “Who were they?”

Lucien swallowed, bracing himself. “My father and brothers.”

“You’ve lived your whole life with them?”

He thought back to the early days. No, he hadn’t. His mother had tried to hide him, tucking him away in an orphanage, but Beron had found out. He’d come along a few years later, shoving Lucien into a saddle and letting him watch the orphanage burn. “Yes,” he said instead. Elain didn’t need to know all the scars, not yet. Not unless she truly wanted the answers. Not unless she asked him to stay.

“He raised you to kill,” she said, horrified.

It sounded like a question, so he answered. “He tried. It seems I never took to it well enough. He was always disappointed in me, so I did my best to pretend.” Lucien sighed, thinking back on all the times he’d tried to lessen the burden of their actions, tried to escape any way he could. “The first time I met you, I was trying to hide from them. I didn’t want to help, so I volunteered to search the hills around the town. That’s why I stumbled across your cabin. Because I couldn’t stomach what they were doing below.”

Elain was quiet for a long, long time. “You were only a boy,” she said softly. “How could you have done anything different?”

Lucien looked away. “I didn’t know what else to do. But I wish I’d tried something, anything, sooner.” He watched his hands, seeing bloodstains that weren’t there. “Maybe he’d have killed me long ago, if I’d fought back.”

Elain maneuvered her horse beside his. She reached over, fingers hovering over his forearm. “But then I wouldn’t have met you,” she said.

He almost laughed. “Then you wouldn’t have had to kill my father for me,” he rasped.

Her face hardened with determination. “I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I could free you.” Lucien hated himself all over again. If he’d never come into her life, she wouldn’t have had to kill anyone at all. She seemed to read all of that and more, because her fingers latched onto his arm tightly. “If I hadn’t met you, I’d have likely died in town today. Perhaps at your hand, or at another’s. I’m grateful, so you can be, too.”

Lucien huffed a laugh, reaching up to pat her fingers. Elain twisted her hand, holding onto him with an iron grip. “Alright,” he tried. “Thank you.”

Elain sent him a smile he didn’t deserve. “You’re welcome.” He didn’t think he’d ever deserve her smiles again. Didn’t think he ever had deserved them. “Let’s go home.”

And those words managed to make him lose all control. Elain stopped their horses, dismounting entirely so she could move to his side. She gripped his hand fiercely, eyes locking with his. And he slid down, off the horse and into her arms. Home. Locked in her surprisingly strong embrace, he realized that Elain knew him better than anyone else ever had. Only a few weeks in her presence, and she’d figured out what he needed, deep down. And somehow, by some miracle he’d never tried to earn, she’d made the choice to accept him into her life.

Home. She’d offered him a home. For the first time in his life, he wanted it, needed it. Everything in his body burned for that word, the meaning of it. Everything in him burned for her. It always had, even from the very beginning, when he’d been too busy kicking himself to acknowledge it.

When his tears finally slowed, Lucien leaned back, hands framing her face. Elain just looked up at him with those warm eyes of hers, sparkling at him with countless emotions. I understand you, those eyes said. I accept you. I want you to stay. But the words that came out of her mouth were different, wholly unexpected. “I love you,” she whispered. “Stay with me, Lucien.”

Their first kiss was salty. Tears wouldn’t stop flowing down his cheeks, running onto hers. She laughed when his kissed across her face, worsening the mess. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated into her skin, over and over again. “I don’t deserve you, but by God do I love you, Elain.”

“You don’t have to deserve anything,” she said, arms wrapping tight around him. “Or if you do, maybe it’s time to believe you deserve good with the bad.”

He silenced her with a deep and furious kiss, his heart raging. She tasted like honey and sunshine, his miracle. And her moan was utterly sinful, when he licked into her mouth like the heathen he was. The sound flickered through his body, setting him alight. Elain only grinned, nipping at his jaw, pressing butterfly kisses to his racing pulse. Lucien groaned, letting her sink into his body. “Elain, stop,” he begged.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of criminal,” she pouted at him. “Why are you suddenly trying to be good?”

Lucien laughed freely, the feeling loosening his shoulders for the first time in years. “Because when I ravish you, Elain,” he purred, fingers digging into her hips to pull her tighter. She rubbed against him, teasing him to attention. In response, he bucked his hips, letting her melt into his arms at the implication. “I intend to do so in a bed.”

#elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fic #elucienweek2022 #technically just in time for the final day celebrations!#wild west lucien

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Affection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer and Y/N decidedly hate each other. But when a near-death experience puts one of them in a coma, their mutual hatred might have to take a backseat— Or will it? Category: Angst / Happy Ending! + Humor and a lil bit of Fluff Content: Strong language, Reader is in a coma, mentions of injury, kissing Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This one’s for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) September Writing Challenge, Enemies To Lovers! I have another one coming up as well, but this idea wouldn’t get out of my head ever since I watched The Abyss with my dad and I had to get it out 😅 I hope you like it!!

———

I swear to fucking God, if this motherfucker really thinks he—

That was the last thing Y/N thought before she was knocked out cold.

With her line of work, it was natural to assume that she was thinking about the unsub, but unfortunately the criminal she and her team were tracking down was the farthest thing on her mind. Spencer would have chastised her for it— letting something else cloud her thoughts while she was in a dark alley, alone, and with a serial killer on the loose.

"You should be smarter than that!" she could hear him say in that high pitch he always carried when he was upset— especially with her. "If you don't get yourself killed one of these days, then it'll be the rest of us!"

Thinking about it made her blood boil.

"It's your fault," she wanted to tell him. "I had to blow off some steam because you were pissing me off!"

The only thing was... She couldn't tell him.

Well... She could.

He just couldn't hear her, because no one could.

It was like some stupid, cliché movie, where you found yourself standing over your dying body and having to choose whether to live or not. It seemed like the obvious choice, to fucking live, but... Y/N found herself wandering around her hospital room, yelling into the void and attempting to jump back into her own body.

Nothing was working.

And when Spencer showed up, his face red and his hair and clothes all messed up, she wanted to scream at him.

"Hey!"

Nothing. He was practically lifeless as he drifted to the chair next to her bed and sat down. It was nearly impossible to read from his expression and body language how he was feeling, and that alone was enough to make her angry again. (Not that the anger had really gone away since waking up next to her comatose body, of course.)

"Hey! Dumbass!"

Still nothing.

As Spencer just blankly stared down at Y/N's bed, she decided she'd had enough.

"SPENCER FUCKING REID, IF YOU DON'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL HAUNT YOUR ASS UNTIL THE END OF ETERNITY, AND I'M GONNA LAY FAT, STINKIN' GHOST SHITS IN YOUR SHOES, DO YOU HEAR ME? AND—"

"I hate you."

It was a bold enough statement to stop Y/N in her tracks, no matter how quietly he'd mumbled it. She knew for sure that he didn't like her, after years of constant bickering and dirty glares and whatever else, but... The word 'hate' was like a knife that sliced through her joking rage and stopped the whole world around her.

If she wasn't already out of her own body, she just knew she would have felt her soul leave.

Spencer didn't hate anyone. Not that she was aware of, anyway. He found nearly everyone delightful, and vice versa... But for some reason, he hated Y/N.

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Yeah, well... Feeling's mutual, I guess..."

"You're stupid, and reckless, and you don't think. And you're a goddamn nightmare to work with... You know what— You're a stone-cold bitch."

His words made her physically step backwards, and it felt like if she were a cartoon, there might have been steam coming out of her ears.

"Yeah, well jokes on you, you make it easy," she seethed. "Fuck you!"

"How... How dare you..." he continued, anger reddening his face.

Y/N watched as he balled his fists and leaned in a little closer to her body, his voice tight and strained. "How dare you walk into my life and boss me around and make it impossible to breathe... From the moment I met you, you've brought out this... this fire in me that I can't put out no matter how hard I try, and it's insufferable—You're insufferable, and I hate you, how dare—"

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a shortness of breath. Spencer breathed in, loud and choked, and the next breath he let out was nothing short of a sob. His eyes squeezed shut, tears rolling down them and his hands clutched the bedsheets with a vigor and rage that Y/N had never seen from him, even in all the years she'd spent visibly getting on his last nerves.

"N—No," she choked out, feeling her throat tighten. "Don't... Don't turn into a sappy mess on me now, do you hear me, Reid? You hate me, don't... Don't..."

"I don't hate you," he whispered, wiping his eyes and reaching out to grab her lifeless hand. "I hate that you make me feel this way, but... I could never hate you..."

She wanted nothing more than to be able to squeeze his hand back, to tell him, not even necessarily with words but with a simple gesture, that she was right there and wasn't going to go anywhere.

She just... had to figure out how to make that true.

Still, Spencer kept going, a small laugh bubbling up through tears and phlegm. "But I will hate you if you die, because I just know you're gonna come back and haunt me for eternity... Probably... shit in my shoes or something."

Y/N barked a laugh that was true and pure... Happy, even.

The genius may have acted like he hated her, but it turns out he knew her pretty well, perhaps even fondly in one way or another.

To think— All those years she spent seeing him sneer at her, feeling his glare burn into her soul, the amount of times she caught him making faces or inappropriate gestures behind her back, all of it... And the whole time, he was probably doing it with a little flicker of fondness deep within the confines of his heart, which he swore to fill with nothing but hatred for her.

The thought made the little flicker in her own heart burn brighter.

As she wandered closer to her bed, beside Spencer and in front of her own body, she reached her hand out to see if she could touch his face, to give him something...

Even though she had no luck, something shifted when he spoke.

"Just... Come back to me, please? I know I'm not good at apologizing, but if it means I get you back... I swear that I will make up every horrible thing I've ever done or said to you. Just... Please don't leave me."

He laid his head down in his hands and tried not to cry again, every said horrible thing replaying on a loop in his brain like some kind of taunt. He wished more than anything for a chance to make it up to Y/N, and now he might not ever be able to.

"You think I'd leave this mortal earth without getting the chance to kick your ass?"

Everything was so fuzzy and light and brimming with these high emotions that Y/N almost didn't realize she was saying these words and Spencer was hearing them. She almost didn't feel the warmth of her bloodstream beneath layers of skin, the beat of her heart slowly coming back to life at the sounds and smells of the hospital room.

She almost didn't realize that Spencer was grabbing her now, his warm hands covering her cold ones and bringing them back to life as well.

"Screw you," he breathed with absolutely no malice to be detected in his voice.

They shared a smile so bright, no one would have been able to guess that they never got along.

TWO WEEKS LATER

Not only was she stuck at home doing nothing while on suspension (Yes, it turns out that storming off into an alley and not paying attention while on the job, just because a co-worker pissed you off, can get you suspended by Chief Strauss), but Y/N was also being visited by a daily rotation of her co-workers and friends and family, and her house was nearly covered in flower bouquets and baked goods.

It was a nightmare.

The sentiment was nice, sure, but if she had to move one more vase, she was going to start throwing them.

God, maybe Spencer was right, I am a stone-cold bitch...

Thinking of him also put a little damper on her mood.

He hadn't been to visit her once... And she figured that after their nice little moment at the hospital, he'd at least stop by with flowers or an "I'm glad you're not dead!" call, but there was nothing on his end. Not even a text message or a letter.

But for all she knew, their small moment of kindness could have been a figment of her concussed imagination.

Please, she thought, if I brought it up to him he'd probably just laugh in my face.

Rather than a laugh, Y/N heard the bright sound of her doorbell, which normally would have meant a fun unexpected visit or a date she was getting ready for, but by now it only meant another vase of flowers or a pie from a neighbor she still didn't remember the last name to.

Either way, she answered the door with as polite a smile as she could muster, and instead of finding a vaguely familiar neighbor or acquaintance, she found Spencer.

Though, to be fair, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

"Well, this is a surprise," Y/N drawled, crossing her arms. "I don't even think you've ever been to my house."

She was surprised to see him nervous around her, rather than irritated. And she would have found it endearing had they not been practically mortal enemies from the moment they met... She was suspicious.

"O—Oh, yeah... I know, I just thought... I wanted to come see how you were doing... These are for you."

He held out the flowers, which were truthfully the pretties set she'd received, and it irked her. Because of course he of all people would be the one to tell which kinds of flowers she'd prefer.

"Thanks," she said, taking them from him and allowing him the space to come inside. "Watch out, it's a maze in here..."

While she looked for somewhere to put the flowers on display, she could feel Spencer looking around her space, probably profiling what he could behind a sea of flowers.

"Hm."

Y/N sighed. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm surprised this many people actually like you."

Despite the nature of his observation, she found it comforting. That level of playful contempt was what she was used to, and it brought a sparkle to her eye as she turned to face him. "Ha... I'm not a complete bitch, you know."

"Sure."

Between the growing grin on his face and the smirk forming on her own, Spencer and Y/N found themselves falling back into a familiar rhythm. And yet, something about it was still... different.

So much so that Y/N felt honest-to-God butterflies in her stomach when he approached, hands retreating from his pockets and head tilting off to the side. His expression held that look he got when he was trying to figure someone out, usually an unsub. She hated to admit it to herself, but a little part of her always found that side of him extremely attractive.

And now that it was right in front of her?

She didn't know what to make of it.

"What?" she snapped, looking for an excuse to hide any and all attraction she was feeling.

Spencer stepped back a little, breaking away from whatever trance he'd just been in. "God, why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You push away every single show of affection! Any time I'm trying to be nice, you just act like it's some big inconvenience to you!"

Y/N laughed. "Ha! That's what that was? Just now? When you insulted me, and then started stalking towards me with that look you get when you're interrogating an unsub? That's what you call affection?"

"That's not... That's not what that was!"

"Oh really? Then what was it?"

"It was part of the routine! Banter! Y—You know, that's our thing! We insult each other, and we act like we hate each other but we... We don't, really..."

The longer he went on, the faster her heart raced. This was the moment in the movie where he inevitably blurted out that he loved her, and in turn she would either kiss him or slap him, or slap him and then kiss him...

But Y/N was still feeling rather playful despite the swarm of butterflies in her stomach begging for some relief.

"Oh?" she prompted, taking a slow step closer to him. "We don't?"

Spencer seemed to get red immediately, and he avoided her eyes. "U—Uh... Well I... I thought... Maybe I read it all wrong, a—and I'm sorry if I did..."

She'd been getting closer meanwhile, and now they were practically toe-to-toe. He did his best to ignore her, taking a few steps back until she cornered him against the front door. And with the way he wasn't doing anything to get out of his predicament, she took that as his acceptance and took another leap.

"What..." she cooed, crawling her fingers up the front of his chest like a spider. "You like me? Hmm?"

When he finally looked down at her, she allowed herself to smile, albeit slowly and with calculation.

In a flash Spencer went from nervous to fed-up, weight seeming to visibly lift from his chest as he sank against the door. "You're messing with me..."

"It's so fun."

"You know what, screw you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Maybe it is. What are you gonna do ab—"

She didn't let him finish.

In an instant, Y/N lunged forward and pulled him down for a kiss.

Even though she thought he might have tried to take control of the situation, he ended up surprising her with a wanton moan as his hands clutched at her sides, holding on for dear life. Their bodies and tongues collided in a mess of years worth of pent-up tension, chaotic and wild and fiercely beautiful in a way that put even the greatest first kisses to shame.

And of course, Spencer had to go and ruin it.

He pushed her away and looked almost panicked. "W—Wait, are you even cleared to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, reaching out for him again. "I'm fine."

"Y/N, you were in the hospital! I thought... I thought you were..."

She appreciated the sentiment, but with her entire body on fire from his touch, she decided she needed more of it. "Yeah, but I'm not... I'm very much alive, and you know what?"

He blinked back at her, watching carefully as she leaned in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"It's because of you. You make me feel... more alive than I've ever been."

"And... You're not messing with me this time?"

With a laugh, Y/N shook her head and leaned up to brush her nose with his. "Nuh-uh... But if you'd like to, I'd love to mess with you in a more fun way. And maybe I'll even let you do it back..."

Spencer hummed, feeling himself gravitate towards her more with every passing second. "Deal."

He barely got the word out all the way before she was dragging him through the maze of flora and contained food and into her bedroom, where piece by piece, their hatred and fondness for one another combined to create the most exquisite of nights.

———

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Even the Losers

Chapter 17

Chapter 1 Chapter 16

Marinette shook her head and tried to hide her giggles. Red Robin had to have thought he was being discrete, right? Unless he was intentionally making himself known as a way to intimidate any more rogues from trying to get to her. He was discrete enough that the average person probably wouldn’t notice him, but anyone paying attention, looking for him, would see him easily.

She waited until he was looking down at her again and waved at him. He smiled and waved back before blushing, shaking his head, and motioning for her to continue. Marinette grinned and looked back at the map on her phone. The restaurant Jason chose was around here somewhere. One of the places he just ended up at a lot, he said. Low key and cozy, exactly the kind of place she needed right now.

After that, he said he was planning on following her around for the rest of the day. He’d said it in a joking tone, but she knew there was nothing joking about his intent. He would be shadowing her for the rest of the day. He couldn’t hide the gravity behind the statement. He couldn’t mask the concerned questions, no matter how casually he tried to play them off. The insistence on seeing her apartment, make sure the view was good enough and the kitchen was stocked enough. The way he casually suggested she teach him how to make a baked good she liked.

Honestly, she was shocked he let her walk there on her own, but he said he’d be have eyes on her anyway. She looked back up at Red Robin with a smile. Clearly, he wasn’t kidding. White lensed eyes. The smile quickly morphed into a frown when she couldn’t see him. He hadn’t been hidden this whole time, so where was he now? She squeaked and whirled around into a fighting stance when she heard someone land behind her. She barely had time to put her hands down before Red Robin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder while he looked around, eyes sharp and calculating.

Marinette followed his lead and scanned the crowd. In lieu of knowing what she was looking for, she kept her eye out for anything that seemed out of place. Everything looked normal though. Nothing seemed suspicious. There were a few people throwing them odd looks, but nothing that seemed hostile or calculating, instead it seemed more curious and fearful of what having a vigilante dropping down in the middle of the night meant for them.

Red Robin turned back to face her. “Let’s get you somepl…” his hand went up to his ear. “Shit!”

Marinette’s eyes widened in fear. “What happened? Did someone get hurt?”

Red Robin’s eyes looked around them again and narrowed at one of the buildings. He moved his arm to her back and firmly pushed her toward the building. “Nobody is hurt.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “But…”

“There’s just an issue that needs attention, but nobody has been hurt,” he assured her, looking down briefly to meet her eyes.

Marinette nodded uncertainly, not feeling calmer with his reassurance. She couldn’t see his eyes past the white filters to gauge his sincerity, and it was unsettling. “So my friend and brother, my… the Waynes, they’re… nobody is hurt?”

Red Robin paused almost imperceptibly. If she hadn’t become used to his constant pressure on her back, she wouldn’t have noticed. He looked back down at her as they walked, the tense muscles in his face softened considerably. “They’re all safe. Your friend and brother and family. They’re all safe. I promise. I just need to go assist someone, but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “I can defend myself you know.”

Red Robin gave her a deadpan expression. She’s sure if he didn’t have a mask, he’d have his own eyebrow raised at her. “After last night, you can understand that we and your family are a bit concerned and perhaps a bit overprotective just right now.”

Marinette rolled her eyes with a sigh but didn’t fight him. “So you’re going to, what? Hide me in some abandoned office until everything blows over? That sounds safe.”

Red Robin huffed out a laugh. “Absolutely safe. That is our standard approach. I’m glad you understand how we operate.” He gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher with his mask in the way. “No. I think your family would hunt me down if I did something so reckless with you. They’re quite protective, you know?”

Marinette opened her mouth to say something but shut it quickly. He was a stranger. There was absolutely no reason to get into her family dynamics with him. “No,” he continued, oblivious to her uncertainty. “I’m going to stash you with someone we know we can trust.”

Marinette looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “A babysitter.”

The corners of Red Robin’s mouth quirked up. “Well, if you’re going to whine like a baby…” he teased.

Marinette gasped dramatically. “If you want whining, I can show you whining. I grew up with the most spoiled brat in existence. I can give new meaning to the word.” Red Robin actually laughed as he opened the door to the business. “You know, I’m supposed to meet my… um… br… brother,” she stuttered over the word. “Jason’s going to wonder about me.”

Red Robin cringed slightly. “You should probably text him. It isn’t a good idea for you to go out until this is resolved.” Marinette nodded and shot a text off to Jason letting him know she was okay and Red Robin was putting her somewhere safe for a bit.

They heard movement from the building, finally drawing Marinette’s attention to the business they had gone into. “Can I help… T… Red Robin? Marinette?” Roy asked pushing out from behind a motorcycle with its transmission in his hands.

“Hey, I was hoping you could watch Marinette while I take care of something. You’re a friend with the Waynes right?” Red Robin asked pointedly.

Roy stared at him for a few seconds before realization set in. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re like fam…” he looked over to Marinette, “well, not family family. But, uh, yeah.”

Red Robin cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. “No, I’m pretty sure you are con…” he was cut off by something in his com. He paused for a moment to listen before turning back to Roy with what Marinette was pretty sure was supposed to be a glare. “I’m trusting you,” he growled. “There’s some madness going on.”

Roy’s face turned serious and he gave him a determined nod. “I’ll protect her. Go.”

Red Robin looked between them for a second then nodded and took off. Roy and Marinette watched him leave for a second before turning back to each other. Marinette gave him a shy smile. “Hi,” she waved sheepishly. “Sorry to just drop in on you like this.”

Roy gave her a welcoming smile and motioned to the garage bay. “Not at all. I guess you’re just visiting sooner than we anticipated. Can’t say I’m upset at all.” He moved some parts off of a stool and motioned toward it for her to sit. “I should say sorry that you have to hunker down here. You definitely look like you were going somewhere a bit nicer.”

Marinette looked down at her outfit analytically, a blood red, long-sleeved blouse, black skinny jeans, and black heeled boots. She’d wanted to wear ladybug colors after the previous night in the Riddler’s facility and the Wayne dining room. Ladybug colors always reminded her of the strongest, most resilient parts of herself. She looked back up at him, her eyes catching on the coat rack behind him. “Excuse you. All I need is that jacked over there and I’d fit right in. In fact, I’d match your baby.”

Roy looked to where she was looking, seeing his black leather jacket hanging up. He blushed slightly at the idea of her wearing his jacket. He could picture it on her, the jacket hanging loosely off of her significantly smaller frame, her clinging to him as they rode on his bike… He looked back at her with a soft look. “And you would still be too classy to be here.”

Marinette pouted at him. “You say that like I don’t fit in.” She didn’t want to say the ‘with you’ that was running through her head. Did he think she wouldn’t fit with him? “I can fit. I can even be helpful.”

Roy shook his head. “No, not at all just…” He motioned to his own clothes, an old tee, stained jeans, and a backwards ball cap that was just as stained with grease as his jeans, and then motioned to her.

Marinette looked between the two of them and grinned. “You underestimate my ability to get dirty. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be as dirty as you.”

Roy’s eyes snapped to the wrench in his hand. Based on the complete lack of amusement or sultriness in her eyes, she did not at all realize what she just said. He took a few seconds, it may have been minutes, to calm his heart and mind. “Okay, how about you prove it?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “Prove what?”

“That you can be helpful. Roll up those sleeves and help me with this engine.” He motioned to the transmission on the workbench next to her. “I can also get you some coveralls so your outfit won’t get dirty if you prefer.” He looked back at her with an amused glint in his eyes. “They’ll be a bit big on you…” Marinette narrowed her eyes at him but his eyes danced with even more amusement at her reaction. “Since you’re so litt…”

“You know what…” she cut him off, standing to get in his personal space. She stared up at him, her eyes meeting his for a moment before her cheeks burst into color. She looked away and cleared her throat. After a second to recover, she motioned to the transmission as she rolled up her sleeves. “Just tell me what you’re doing and how I can help.”

Roy grinned and twirled the wrench in his hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

He leaned over the transmission and started loosening one of the nuts holding the piece together. His hand faltered for a fraction of a second when Marinette leaned next to him, close enough for him to feel her breath as she let out a sigh, close enough to feel her body heat. Close enough he could easily wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. He had to tighten his hands to keep them from reaching over.

He took a breath to focus. Now was not the time. She had just been kidnapped and people could take a bit of time to recover from something like that, especially considering the things she had said about having a breakdown. He flicked his eyes over to her trying to assess how she was doing. Her eyes were intently watching his hands as they moved around the transmission. They were sharp and her body seemed to be relaxing the longer she watched him work. If he didn’t know better, he’d never know she had been kidnapped and threatened the night before.

She looked up at him questioningly when his hands stilled as he analyzed her. He gave her a small smile and motioned toward the tool box. “Um… I need… Can you, um, get me the, um… 5/16th wrench, please?” he stuttered.

Marinette jumped up to search through the wrenches in the box. She frowned, her lip jutting out as she searched. “I don’t see it here. Is there somewhere else it could be?”

Roy’s face scrunched as he tried to remember where else he might have used it. He’d been working on the bike almost all day. He looked back at the motorcycle trying to remember what he had done with it. He was broken from his concentration by Marinette’s light giggle. He looked over to her with a raised brow.

Marinette looked away quickly, another blush on her cheeks. She followed where his line of sight had been and searched around the motorcycle, focusing her energy on her search for the wrench instead of the adorable face he made when he was concentrating and the way his nose wrinkled up in thought and his lips quirked to the side. After a minute of looking she shook her head and held her empty hands out for him to see.

“Any other ideas?” she asked as she came back over to her stool.

Roy sighed deeply and scanned the workbench. He had a backup set of wrenches, but he knew he had used that one recently. It couldn’t have gone too far. His attention was brought back to Marinette when she giggled again, her giggles turning into full blown laughter. He gave her a confused look which made her laugh louder. She reached over the workbench, almost climbing onto it to grab the wrench that was behind the transmission. She held the wrench out to him triumphantly with a smug, teasing smile on her lips.

Roy fought choking on air at the sight of her climbing onto his workbench and all the images that immediately flooded into his mind involving that particular scenario, especially in his jacket… and nothing else. He took the wrench, hoping she believed the blush he knew was on his cheek was from embarrassment rather than where his thoughts had gone. “Thanks,” he managed to mutter out.

“Anytime,” she grinned back. “See?” she motioned to herself. “Helpful.”

Roy chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Guess I’ll have to keep you around then.”

Marinette chuckled and let her focus settle back on the part he was working on. She watched his hands move effortlessly and confidently over the pieces. “Flathead screwdriver,” he asked, holding out his hand for her. She quickly grabbed one and slapped it in his hand like he was a surgeon. He looked up at her with a grin. “Thanks, nurse.”

Marinette shook her head and let her gaze pass over the garage bay. She quirked her head to the side when her eyes settled on a bow leaning up against the wall by the door. “What’s with the bow?”

Roy’s head jerked up. His eyes immediately found his bow and quiver. He looked back at her with an almost natural smile. “Oh, I just… like to shoot.”

“It’s yours?” she asked perking up.

“Yeah… I just pulled it out… recently.” His eyes flicked to the cut on her cheek quickly before returning to the transmission.

Marinette looked back at the bow. “That sounds fun. I always wanted to learn. How did you learn?”

Roy’s eyes took on a far off look and a sentimental smile spread on his lips. “My father, my adopted father.”

“Oliver?” Marinette asked, confusion clear in her voice as she tried to reconcile the sentimental smile with his description in the bar.

“Ah, so you know,” Roy said quietly, eyes suddenly in focus and pointed at the transmission.

Marinette gave him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. Damian… he um… thought I knew,” she stuttered out. She really didn’t want to get into that conversation right now. She was sure Roy would be upset and it was just something she wanted to leave between her and Damian, not someone else. “He just mentioned it yesterday.”

Roy nodded and flicked his eyes up to her for a second, gauging her reaction, waiting for the questions. There were always questions. Questions about Oliver, questions about their relationship, questions about their money. The exact combination might change but they were always there. “Sorry for bringing it up,” she said quietly.

Roy shook his head, with a small smile. “No. It isn’t your fault. No not Oliver. It was before Oliver. My birth father died saving me from a forest fire and a man named Brave Bow adopted me. He raised me. He was a really good man. He taught me how to be a good person and how to shoot… and just about everything else I know.”

The smile on Roy’s face made Marinette smile too. “He sounds like a good father.”

Roy nodded. “He was,” he said quietly. He looked over at her hesitantly before focusing back on the piece he was working on. “How are you feeling?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side. “Feeling? Not as useful as I could be. A burden on you more than a help, if I’m being honest,” she shrugged.

Roy snorted. “Sorry, I’ll try to get you to do more of my work for me.” He sent her a smirk that got an eye roll out of her. “And I would never call you a burden. In fact, I’d fight to keep you nearby,” he added quietly, no longer meeting her eyes. He tried to focus on the transmission but he could feel her eyes on him, making it impossible to think of anything else.

After a few seconds he cleared his throat. “I mean after,” he motioned toward her face, his hand still grasping the gear he had just removed. “How are you handling it? The Riddler’s no joke.”

Marinette scoffed and picked up a wrench. She spun it in her hand as a distraction while she spoke. “He really isn’t. I didn’t find him funny at all.” Roy gave her a flat look and returned to working on the part, letting her decide to continue discussing it or not. “How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“He broadcast it to all Gotham. Everybody knows. Everybody saw you deliver the verbal smack down of the century,” he grinned at her. “It was inspiring. You were amazing.”

“I was pissed is what I was,” she grumbled. She looked away and sighed, running her hand over her face and grimacing when she accidentally touched her cut. “I forgot everyone would see that.”

She stared at the wrench as she twirled it in her hands. She knew the Waynes probably knew she was taken. She’d called Jason to let him know she was fine, but had pretended she had to go talk to the police and cut the call short. She really didn’t want to talk to them after the scene at dinner. She didn’t want to have the conversations she knew they were going to want to have. She just wanted to move on. It didn’t have anything to do with them, especially the kids. It was her past, one they had no way of knowing about and no way of helping with. There was no reason to hash through it all again.

But she hadn’t realized they would get to see the full video. She frowned at the thought. She’d said so much while she was yelling and she couldn’t remember what all she had said. It was a moment of weakness that now the entire city, possibly the world now knew about. Thankfully she was positive she didn’t mention anything about the miraculous so to anyone watching she would have looked like any other normal, non-miraculous wielding person.

And on top of it all, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or upset that M. Wayne hadn’t reached out to see if she was alright. All of the kids had even Lucius had, but not him… or Alfred. After the way she left, he might not feel like he’s allowed to. But still… he hadn’t bothered to check on her at all.

She looked up with a weak smile. “Guess I’ve truly experienced Gotham now.”

Roy grimaced. “Sorry about that.” He watched her as she seemed to work through her feelings on the matter, going from annoyed to hurt. He returned his attention to the engine part. “I think I need to start calling you Fire Flower.”

Marinette looked up at him curiously. “Fire Flower?”

“Yeah,” he looked up briefly with a spark in his eyes. “It’s like a fire cracker, but cuter. More impressive to look at.” Marinette blushed and looked down, accidentally dropping the wrench she had been playing with. Roy grinned widely at her before focusing back on his work. “You sure you feel safe?” he asked, still focusing on the engine.

Marinette nodded. “I have Adrien and Max. We might not look like we can protect ourselves, but we’re pretty good at it.” Actually incredibly well. She was possibly the best protected person in the world right now, but he didn’t have any way of knowing that.

“I’m actually pretty surprised Adrien isn’t with you right now or Max.” He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow.

Marinette nodded. “You’re not wrong. They would be but Max just started work and couldn’t really take a day off immediately and Adrien had a job interview in Metropolis today. And this is the one he’s really excited about. I was supposed to go with him and check out Metropolis, but then I wouldn’t have had anyone with me while he was in the interview and that made them a bit too nervous. Here at least they know I have the bats following me at all times so, they were pretty confident I was safe.”

“The bats are keeping an eye on you, huh?” Roy asked with a secretive grin.

Marinette nodded. “I’m not sure if they’re trying to be subtle, but yeah. I don’t know what kind of relationship they have with the Waynes. They mentioned… the bats certainly act like they talk a lot and know each other well.”

Roy froze for a second. Well, they certainly weren’t being as discrete as they normally are, it would seem. Although after last night, he could imagine they were pretty flustered. He had been and she was just an acquaintance to him. He wanted it to be more but… that wasn’t the point. But at this rate, she was going to figure it out before they told her and he didn’t imagine that going well for them. “So you’ve caught them a few times?”

“Caught is a liberal term for it. Is it catching if they aren’t really hiding? I think Red Robin might have been trying… maybe, but Batman was on our balcony, standing vigil all night last night.”

Roy glanced over for a second. “Batman was watching over your apartment last night?”

Marinette nodded. “Markov said he was there until Red Robin took over some time around breakfast.”

Roy paused for a few seconds then tapped the screwdriver against the workbench. “And… Bruce? Did Bruce check in on you?”

Marinette looked away and licked her lips before pursing them. She twisted the wrench around a few more times, focusing entirely on that, not meeting Roy’s eyes. “No,” she finally said in a falsely calm voice. “I… I didn’t… Dinner didn’t go so well.”

Roy moved closer to her until he was close enough to reach her comfortably but still gave her space so he wasn’t crowding her. He ducked his head to try to meet her eyes. She yielded quickly and met his eyes. “He’s worried about you. I guarantee you he is. He’s just… shit at emotions and reading a room.

“If you guys fought, I promise you he isn’t less worried about you, he’s just afraid that seeing him or hearing from him will upset you more. I promise you he’s finding out everything he can about how you are from anyone that will tell him. He cares. Your fight didn’t push him away. He’s just a fucking idiot. And an asshole, so there’s like a 97% chance if you did fight, it was his fault. And he probably knows that, just not how to make it up to you.”

Marinette huffed out a laugh despite her eyes suddenly turning glassy. “I don’t need him to make it up, just… it’s not even his fault. It was mine really.” She fiddled with the wrench in her hands, testing the strength, trying to bend it, focusing on that as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

“I doubt it.” He sighed and readjusted his cap as he tried to come up with the right words. “I’ve found that when bad things happen at the manor it’s almost always because Bruce was being a controlling little bitch.” Instead of laughing, she frowned at the wrench. Right, calling her father, she’s trying to connect to a ‘controlling little bitch’ probably isn’t really helping. He sighed and looked back up trying to figure out how to remove the frown. It didn’t look right on her face. She should be smiling. Always. “Do you want a hug?”

Marinette finally looked up from the wrench in surprise. After a second she gave him a weak smile and shook her head, returning her focus to the wrench. “I’m fine.”

Roy lightly placed his hand on the wrench to stop its motion. “That’s not what I asked,” he said gently.

She blinked at him a few times before a smirk quirked her lips up. “I mean… I’m not going to object to a handsome man wrapping his arms around me,” she answered slyly, throwing his words from days earlier back at him. Roy grinned and wrapped his arms around her, gently at first but holding her tighter as the hug went on. His arms were strong and reassuring, giving a sense of warmth and safety and Marinette quickly found herself melting into his embrace. She nuzzled into his chest and dear God, she could feel his muscles moving through his shirt with every minute movement.

She tried to hide her frown when he pulled away after a few minutes. But, it turned into a smile when he stopped after a few inches, just enough to look down at her. Roy smiled softly and rubbed her cheek with his thumb a few times. Marinette leaned into his hand, captivated by the feel of his hand on her face. He started to lean down but jumped away with the sound of clattering right next to them. Roy moved in front of her, caging her in behind him as he looked for the source of the sound.

Marinette grimaced and leaned down to pick up the wrench that had slipped through her fingers when she was looking at Roy. He chuckled awkwardly and moved back to his transmission. He started working on it again a lot slower than he had been before. His hands were shaking slightly. He could still feel the traces of her on his fingers and around his chest, trilling through him. “Can you… um… the. Can you hand me the Phillips head, please?” he stuttered, unable to get his mind settled.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, her cheeks still bright red, as her mind tried to kick back into gear. She looked at the tools in the toolbox and back to him. “Is… that’s a tool, not like a horror movie thing, right?”

Roy blinked a few times before breaking out in laughter. Marinette smiled at his laughter, beyond grateful for the change of topic. “The one with the cross for a head,” he said motioning toward the screwdrivers.

“Oh,” Marinette nodded in understanding. “Tournevis cruciform,” she muttered to herself as she searched through the tools for the right screwdriver. “Americans and their naming things.”

Roy grinned at her outrage. “And what do you call it? The cross screwdriver.” he teased.

“That is literally what it translates to,” she deadpanned.

Roy puckered his lips in an attempt at keeping a smile off his lips and make his annoyed wrinkled brow more believable. “Oh, well I bow to your superior naming capabilities,” he snarked with a fake bow.

Marinette nodded graciously and passed the screwdriver to him. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

Roy laughed and returned to the transmission, pretending like he could focus on that instead of the kiss they almost had. Marinette watched, almost transfixed as he moved the gears synchronously on the transmission, creating intricate and ever changing patterns. She pulled her sketchbook and pencil out to capture a sudden idea.

“The wrench?” Roy called out, not looking up from the transmission. He held out his hand and waited for a few seconds before adding, “Please?” He waited a little longer before repeating it a bit louder. “Wrench, please?” He finally looked up when she still hadn’t handed it to him. “Marinette?” He looked over to her concerned. His face immediately softened when he saw her.

Marinette’s face was frozen in intense concentration on her sketchbook as she drew confidently and without hesitation. She held the sketchbook out and tilted it slightly. She narrowed her eyes at it and tilted it a different way. Her mouth curved into a satisfied smirk before she added in more details and notes. Her eyes lit up with inspiration, bright and clear. She shook her head to get a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, hands too busy committing her inspiration to paper to waste time with such trivialities. Roy shook his head, mentally berating himself for having backed off before. She had been right there and leaning toward him. Maybe Jason and Dick… and Tim and Damian, were right. He was an idiot.

Before Roy realized what he was doing, he had reached out to tuck it behind her ear, being careful to avoid her cut as his fingers brushed her face. Marinette jumped at the unexpected contact. She looked up at him wide eyed but a sheepish look quickly overtook her expression. She looked down in embarrassment, but that only pressed her face further into Roy’s hand, which made her embarrassed blush deepen but not due to embarrassment this time. “Sorry. Did you need a tool?”

Roy shook his head. He smiled and moved his hand slightly so it was cupping her face this time. “It’s fine. I was enjoying watching you get caught up in inspiration.”

Marinette looked down again and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. It is probably the most embarrassing face.”

Roy smiled softly at her, his eyes shining with sincerity and fondness. “No. It wasn’t. It was cute.” He took a step closer to her and leaned a bit closer, more intimately. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it more.”

“More of my too distracted to pay attention to you face?” she smirked and leaned closer to him.

“Any version of your face you’ll let me see. Although I would prefer to see it with fewer cuts,” he frowned at the cut on her cheek as he rubbed a soothing line just below the bruise that had formed around the cut. He leaned closer to examine the cut until his lips were centimeters from her cheek. He flicked his eyes to her half lidded ones and leaned to close the distance.

“Hey, guys!” Dick boomed as he came into the room. Marinette and Roy jumped apart, or rather Roy jumped away and Marinette straightened up on the stool, grabbing the workbench to keep from falling off. “Sorry I’m late. And sorry I’m here instead of Jason. He got… caught up in the attack. Not personally!” he rushed to assure Marinette when her eyes widened and body stiffened. “I meant he’s dealing with the fallout. Jason is fine. He’d just be really, really late and asked if I could come over here instead. If that’s okay.”

Marinette nodded, but her eyes were still slightly widened. “Of course. But you’re sure Jason’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” Dick shot her a charming smile. “He’s just going to need a bit of time to deal with things,” he lied smoothly. He looked between Marinette and Roy with narrowed eyes and moved between them as he hugged Marinette. “He really, really wanted to be here with you today. I think he’s planning on attaching himself to you tomorrow though.”

Marinette chuckled lightly. “That’s okay. We’ll have fun doing something.” Her face suddenly sobered. “Oh, no, wait. I have lunch with Duke and Cass tomorrow. I mean… I think I have lunch with them. We had planned it, but that was before…” she trailed off, not wanting to go into detail at all, but especially in front of Roy.

“I’m sure you still do,” Dick assured her. “They’re probably just waiting to get confirmation from you in case the last few days were a bit much and you wanted a break.”

“No!” Marinette exclaimed. “No. I’ll text them. Thanks.”

“But I get you for tonight. How do you feel about a movie marathon?” he grinned widely, already planning a full night’s marathon with her, Adrien, and Max. She had to love Disney movies, right? Who didn’t love Disney movies?

“I like movies,” Roy chirped with a teasing grin.

“No,” he answered sharply. He turned back to Marinette with a mock sympathetic smile. “You must have been so bored here.”

Roy narrowed his eyes back at him but Marinette jumped up to defend Roy. “Not at all. It was interesting watching him working on the bike. I got some good inspiration too.”

Roy raised a pointed eyebrow at him with a smug grin. “Motorcycles remind her of her grandmother.”

Dick looked back at Marinette who was looking back at Roy with a surprised expression. “Good memory.”

“I remember important things,” he shrugged.

Dick glared at him. “Uh huh. But not to check if things are loaded.” He looked back at Marinette. “You’ve got something just there,” he motioned to the cheek Roy had stroked earlier. “You might want to get that grease off.”

“Oh!” Marinette exclaimed grabbing her cheek, almost succeeding in covering the blush that flushed on her cheeks. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

Roy nodded and motioned toward the bathroom. “Just right over there.”

As soon as the door closed, Dick punched Roy’s shoulder. Roy frowned at him. “What?”

“What the Hell are you doing?” Dick hissed and motioned toward the bathroom.

“What?” Roy answered rubbing his shoulder. At least it was just Dick. If it was Jason, he’d be rubbing his jaw right now. “Tim dropped her off here. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her?”

“You were supposed to not hit on her,” he grumbled.

“That’s just unreasonable,” Roy rolled his eyes and leaned back against the workbench. He motioned to the bathroom. “Have you met her? She’s smart and sassy and really sweet. She's funny and obviously gorgeous. Who doesn’t want to hit on her?”

“Yeah. I’ve met her. Didn’t hit on her.” Dick let out a long suffering sigh. “Jesus, Roy! I’ve had her as a sister for like a week. I don’t want to lose her because I’m in jail for killing you.”

“You’re her brother, you don’t count in the hitting on her count. And please,” Roy scoffed, “you’re too good to go to jail for it.”

“True. Just…” he narrowed his eyes at him and pointed at him threateningly, “if you mess around and hurt her… I’ll choose her over you. And I won’t forget to load the magazines and Jason will be more than happy to use them.”

“That’s hurtful,” Roy groused. “One time. I forgot to load the magazines one time.”

“Yeah, in the middle of a mission!” Dick whisper hissed.

“You survived,” Roy shrugged. “Stop being such a baby. But I get it. I’d choose her over me too. Or you. But if you were going to kill anyone for hurting her, Riddler wouldn’t still be alive… or Bruce.”

Dick pursed his lips at the reminder of how Bruce had treated Marinette, of everything that had come up the night before. His anger quickly deflating. He looked toward the bathroom, his eyes softening. They really needed to work harder to support her, to assure her they weren’t holding her at arm’s length. Maybe talk to Bruce about telling her the truth. That seemed like the only possible way to salvage this. “How does she seem to be doing?”

Roy shrugged and watched the bathroom door to make sure she wouldn’t walk in on the conversation. “Actually doesn’t seem too bothered by the Riddler incident. She’s more anxious about the family knowing.” He pursed his lips and picked up a transmission piece, pretending to examine it. “Bruce hasn’t said anything or made any attempts as far as she knows.”

Dick sighed and massaged his temples. “That should surprise me more than it does.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Last night… dinner didn’t… some things came out that Bruce didn’t know. Things she had to go through. He’s beating himself up over it. Too ashamed to talk to her.”

Roy sighed and shook his head. Bruce was going to lose her before he even had her at this point. “That have anything to do with why she’s so unaffected by having been taken captive by one of the most dangerous rogues in Gotham?” Dick’s resigned sigh was enough confirmation for him. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “She thinks it’s her fault he doesn’t want to bother with her anymore.”

“Damn it,” Dick grumbled, drawing out the words in frustration. He ran his hand over his face and collapsed on the stool she had been on earlier. “Good to know. Thanks.”

Roy nodded and threw the part back on the workbench. “How’s Jay doing?”

“He’ll be okay. Tim got there in time to stop him from going too far, but he’s going to need a few hours, maybe the night to let the Pit Madness recede. And I think he’s really nervous about showing any part of that to Marinette.”

They both snapped their attention to Marinette when she came back. “My cheek look better?” she turned her cheek for them to see. “I mean obviously not the cut.”

“Yeah, you look beautiful.” Roy assured her and handed her purse to her.

Dick glared at Roy. “Could you stop hitting on my sister for five seconds?” he hissed low enough for Marinette not to hear. He turned to Marinette before Roy could respond. “Ready to go? I don’t know about you but I’m hungry.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Dick walked ahead of her, pretending like he didn’t notice her lag behind. When he was almost out the door, she turned to Roy and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for babysitting me today and for the tour the other day. I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Roy nodded and handed her his phone with a spot for Fire Flower already started in his contacts. “If your plans ever get canceled again or you need to hide out or you need to borrow a jacket so you fit in, give me a call, Fire Flower.”

Marinette put her number in and passed it back to him with a grin. “You have extra you can just loan out?”

Roy grinned back and nodded. “A few jackets, suit coats, shirts, ties, clean pants, even a few pairs of coveralls, none of which would fit you, but if you ever need them… Or even if you don’t need anything, just want to talk or hang out, let me know.”

“Marinette! I thought you were ready to go?” Dick yelled.

Marinette shook her head and sighed. She waved to Roy as she rushed out. “Thanks again!”

Roy watched her leave until he couldn’t see her anymore. He let out a deep sigh and collapsed against the workbench. He looked at his phone and quickly sent a text with a smile.

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#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio dad bruce wayne #roynette #Even the Losers #prompt - no miraculous au #this is the last chapter I have written already so updates are going to be more sporadic from here on out #mbdbwm2021

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