#because he's purple g-- *gets shot in the head*

[soobszzn]

shut me up!

synopsis: despite his tough and confident rockstar persona, even beomgyu needed reassurance sometimes.

pairing: rockstar!beomgyu x reader

genre: fluff, semi-comfort, established relationship

content/warnings: kissing, (playful) teasing/bantering/yelling, beomgyu says ‘shut up’, beomgyu is in a (rock)band that isn’t txt

wc: 1.2k

a/n: this one’s for u, G🌼

- 

you’d be lying if you said being a rockstar’s girlfriend wasn’t absolutely exhilarating. you’d fall asleep in one city and then wake up in the next. you’d go from private jet, to tour bus, to private jet again. life was insane, but it didn’t matter how crazy and unpredictable life had become, because beomgyu was your constant.

you knew the band’s setlist by heart at this point, but the atmosphere and energy of each night’s crowd was always a new experience. what never changed, though, were the loving gazes you shot your boyfriend as you watched from stage side.

you’d hand him a sweat towel or a bottled water whenever he stepped backstage. with no time to chat, you’d occasionally shoot him a thumbs-up or a “fighting” gesture. in return, beomgyu would alternate between quick pecks and forehead kisses as a sign of thanks.

watching him up on that stage was the best part of each day. when he was performing, he was completely in his element: his expressions were always filled with joy and excitement, and with his electric guitar in hand, he’d move dynamically across the stage without missing a beat. he’d look out into the crowd affectionately, face beaming with gratitude towards the dedicated fans.

he’d never miss a chance to turn to you and shoot a loving glance back. you knew how grateful he was that you could follow him on his first major tour. you were there for the first performance jitters, mid-tour anxieties, and now for the band’s long-awaited performance at lollapalooza.

the band had a couple hours before showtime to film content and do interviews, which left you passing time in their trailer with some staff members. you’d already sped through a book on the plane ride here, opting to mindlessly scroll on your phone as you anticipated your boyfriend’s arrival. eventually, the group returned, giving them time to decompress and prepare for their set. 

you were sprawled on the couch at the end of their trailer. when beomgyu walked in, he motioned for you to lift your legs so he could take a seat. plopping himself beside you and letting your legs fall to his lap, he let out a sigh.

“how’d it all go?” you asked, turning to face him while still laying down.

“i don’t really know why we need to do so many interviews when they just ask the same stuff.” he complained as he fiddled with the hem of your pants. 

“it’s only cause so many people love your music.” you lightly nudged his arm as you sat up. you leaned your arm against the sofa backrest as you rested your head in your hand. this put the two of you face to face, giving you the opportunity to look at him closely.

you loved the way his ashy purple hair fell onto his face. as a matter of fact, you loved every damn part of his face. from the warmth of his eyes to the softness of his lips, you could just never get enough. those blush pink lips of his were so irresistible, you just wanted to lean in and kiss him right then and there.

he looked at you quizzically. “what?”

“you have something on your face.” you lied, reaching to brush nothing off his cheek in embarrassment. he smiled, but it quickly faded. he let out another sigh. 

“what’s wrong?” you asked with a slight pout. 

“it’s my song. i’m scared people aren’t gonna like it.” he confessed, now hunched over with his forearms resting in his lap. you had almost forgotten that the band was planning to premiere a new song tonight. and it wasn’t just any new song, it was a song beomgyu had produced.

“what if nobody reacts? what if they leave during our set? what if they start booing? i’d be a failure of a musician!” he cried, now sitting slumped on the couch. he was bouncing his leg and staring off into space, and you just knew his mind was racing. 

“stop stop stop!” you exclaimed through a laugh. his concerns were understandable, but you had to admit he looked a bit silly whining the way he did.

“why are you laughing?” he asked with a pout this time.

“because you sound a bit silly,” you replied cheekily, in hopes the teasing would cheer him up a bit. 

“i’m being serious.” he said quietly. 

“i know, and i get it. but you’re so good at what you do.” you reassured him.

“but this is lollapalooza. it’s a big deal. it’s a huge deal for us.” he replied in a bothered tone.

you had a feeling beomgyu’s worries were the main contributor to his now souring mood. but a part of you was beginning to get annoyed at the fact that he just wasn’t listening to you.

“you’re being stubborn.” you blurted out, regretting it immediately. 

“i am not! god. maybe i should just take it off the setlist now while i still have a chance.” he replied defensively, quickly standing up from the couch.

“can you stop it!” you cried, also standing up to face him. “you’re being so annoying. you don’t see what i see.” 

he looked at you perplexed.

“i know how much time and effort you put into your music, gyu. but most of all i see how talented you are,” you spoke earnestly, unintentionally starting an impromptu rant at your boyfriend.

“people love your music. why do you think you got invited here?” you continued, noticing his expression soften. “even though you’re the one on stage, i watch the crowd too. they eat it all up, they love you guys!”

“it annoys me because you don’t get it. you don’t get that your music is loved by so many!” you continued on your tirade. beomgyu inched his way closer to you. “you annoy me because you don't see how much you are loved!”

“and not just by me-mmph-” your words were suddenly interrupted by a pair of lips on yours.

cupping your cheeks in his hands, beomgyu guided your face closer to his. he deepened the kiss before pulling away and saying “and that’s all that matters.”

“i’m sorry for being stubborn,” he apologized, looking at you softly. you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck. 

“everyone’s going to love your new song. i promise.” you mumbled into his chest after a few seconds of silence. then, you looked up at him.

he whispered “thank you” before kissing your nose. 

- 

an absolute success; that’s what you’d call their performance.

beomgyu was absolutely electric on that enormous stage. and maybe it was the bias in you, but his band had to have been the highlight of the weekend. the energy of the crowd was unmatched, and the familiar melodies of their discography were transformed into amplified versions of themselves. 

the reveal of your boyfriends’ newly produced track was met with an eruption of cheers. you watched fondly as beomgyu gleamed, face softening with both relief and delight. your heart was bursting with happiness, feeling so incredibly proud of him.

the second his band finished their set, you watched beomgyu hug his bandmates as they made their way off stage. they were all smiling so brightly, but your boyfriend’s smile was most infectious. on his way backstage, he thanked the stage crew and staff members as he caught his breath, coming down from his “performance high.”

then, you noticed his eyes start to wander and you had a feeling he was looking for you. you raised yourself up on your tippy toes and waved to get his attention. you met eyes, and the sweaty, out-of-breath boy made his way directly to you with absolute excitement. his ashy purple hair was almost matted to his forehead, skin glistening with perspiration. and you loved it.

immediately taking you into his embrace, he lifted you up and spun you around. you latched onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“i told you they’d love it.” you said cheekily as he set you down.

“can you shut up?” he teased with a smirk before pressing your lips together.

[clonedchaos]

Ripple Effect

Orchids and Oranges: A Yasammy Week Special

Yippee! It's Yasammy Week, brought to you by @yasammyweek! Pardon the late kickoff, had to attend my sister's bridal shower today as well as writing this 2,000 word one shot in one day. I know most ppl here are doing art, but I can't draw, so fanfic it is! Enjoy! <3

Day 1: Hurt/Comfort

Rating: G/PG

Summary: Yaz thought she had left the dinosaurs behind. She thought it was time for her to finally heal… until she came face to face with one on the mainland.

AO3 Version:

Tumblr Version:

Yaz wrapped her arms tighter around Sammy’s waist as she gradually got used to the fluid movement of the stallion below them. The saddle wasn’t the most comfortable or practical of inventions, but Sammy had insisted it was far better than riding bare back.

Yaz let her gaze wander as a smile crossed her lips and her heart gave a little flutter. The maple trees surrounding them were colored in vibrant shades of orange, red, and brown. Despite fall coming to a close, Texas was still as humid as ever. It was the polar opposite of her home upstate— the moment it hit October, the temperature would plummet. 

Yaz had gotten used to the frigid air over the years thanks to her daily morning runs. She would be quite out of her element down here if it weren’t for the months she spent stuck on a tropical island. She’d take the Texas heat over Nublar’s every single time.

And, of course, she loved Texas because of Sammy. Her parents had been the textbook definition of southern hospitality ever since Yaz came down to spend the week with them. Sammy had been a hurricane of energy and enthusiasm ever since her arrival. She talked a mile a minute at any possible opportunity and paraded Yaz around to see every nook and cranny of their land. It had been fun; she knew Sammy had been waiting a long time to introduce her officially to her family-- cattle included.

A pleasant breeze brushed past them, Sammy’s hair tickling Yaz’s nose. Yaz sneezed, the sheer power of the act nearly sending her reeling backwards.

”Bless you!” Sammy immediately chimed in, looking over her shoulder. Her hands held the reins in a loose grip as the stallion came to a stop. His ears and tail twitched. Yaz’s behavior had irked him.

“Sorry about that, bud,” She apologized, patting the horse on the flank. A whistle and nudge from Sammy ushered the stallion forward again. 

The cowgirl kept her eyes on her girlfriend. Yaz felt that wasn’t the appropriate course of action given she was the one guiding the horse down the path. It seemed almost as dangerous as taking your eyes off the road while driving.

”The trees are mighty beautiful, aren’t they?” Sammy cooed with a grin. She reached forward and plucked a leaf out of Yaz’s hair. How long had that been in there?

”It is beautiful, Sammy,” Yaz admitted. Truly, the scenery was gorgeous. The Gutierrez’s land was pure nature’s bliss, all 700 acres of it. She liked to call it “The Eight Wonder of the World.”

Sammy glanced up towards the sky, its colors glowing with muted hues of pink, blue, and purple. “It’s gettin’ late. Perhaps we should head back to the stable.” Her gaze darted to and fro before she leaned forward and whispered, “Ol Kota’s eyesight isn’t as great as it once was.”

Kota nickered in response. Yaz snorted. “I think he heard you.”

"Oh, that wasn't an insult, boy!" Sammy quickly corrected sheepishly, getting a chuckle out of Yaz. Sammy's baby talk toward her critters wasn't at all meant to be taken seriously, but Yaz couldn't help but think it was adorable. 

“I suppose you’re right. Hey, think I could beat Kota in a race?” Yaz asked with a clear undertone of a challenge. If he galloped at full speed, she knew he would be able to overtake her effortlessly. But at his old age, she might just have a chance if he were to trot.

Sammy’s eyes shone as she turned her attention back onto Yaz. “Oh, that’s a gre—“

Kota saw the Triceratops first. The elder stallion reared up onto his back legs. Yaz lost her grip on Sammy and hit the ground hard. The breath drew out of her lungs, leaving her momentarily stunned at the blunt impact. Surely that was going to leave a sizable bruise on her tailbone.

”Woah, boy! Easy… Easy!” Sammy yelped as she tightened the reins and fought for control. Yaz instinctively rolled to the side to avoid getting trampled on by hooves, just barely scraping by with nothing more than a dust cloud in her face.

With her chest heaving in gulps of air, Yaz finally lifted her gaze toward the instigator. A bulky Triceratops stood before them in the path, its head lowered and grazing on the sparse patches of grass that sprung up from the dirt trail. At the stallion’s cry of fear, the herbivore lifted its head. Its horns glinted off the dying sunlight’s rays, the tips sharpened points that could skewer her should the animal desire.

Yaz didn’t know why, but she screamed. She screamed a blood curdling cry that sent the nearby birds scattering. Her hands tore up clumps of dirt as she balled them into a fist. Her heart pounded, she could hear it in her ears and feel the blood coursing through her veins. It was getting hard to breathe. Why could she not breathe? Why couldn't she think? Why was her vision spinning? Was it a concussion, or was she losing it?

The Triceratops bellowed and raked its front leg on the ground. Despite being in fear’s clutches, Yaz subconsciously knew it was about to charge. Suddenly the aspect of getting trampled by a horse seemed far more appealing.

The Triceratops stomped forward, waving its horns threateningly. Yaz couldn’t move. She wanted to pull herself off the ground and bolt toward the nearest tree. She wanted to be safe, to be inside, to be far away from this prehistoric beast. But her body was rooted to the floor, tied down by unseen vines. Despite the adrenaline pulsing through her veins and the chilling numbness of her hands, she could only watch powerlessly as she sat directly in the line of fire.

“Yaz!” Sammy was suddenly right by her side on horseback. Quite literally her knight in shining armor. She extended a hand down to her. Yaz felt a sharp pierce plunge through her heart at the palpable fear she found lying behind Sammy's eyes. “Come on!”

Yaz still felt frozen by invisible roots. She wanted to reach for Sammy. She wanted them to huddle under the blanket fort Sammy had insisted they build in her room last night. Her and Sammy had been at checkers for nearly two hours before Sammy’s mother had called them down for dinner. She wanted to wake up in the morning and breathe in the aroma of fresh, fluffy cinnamon rolls and salted, crisp bacon. Would she ever partake in these memories again? Or would they be snuffed out, much like her life might very well be. If only she could just…

MOVE!

With one hand wrapped around the stirrup, Sammy leaned down and grabbed Yaz by the arm. Yaz knew her girlfriend was strong, like really really strong. Calling her "country strong" wasn't just a cute pet name, it was a fact.

Sammy's rapid maneuver was enough to nudge Yaz up and back into the saddle. With a quick snap of the reins and click of her heels, Sammy ushered Kota forward. The trike missed them by a hair, nearly getting clocked on the muzzle by the stallion's hooves.

Yaz had her arms wrapped around Sammy in a death grip, her face buried against her wool jacket. It felt like she was holding her breath for every second until they had made it safely to the barn. Her chest was tight and sweat rolled down the side of her head. She could barely feel her fingers besides the buzzing, staticky feeling she noticed there.

"Yaz?" 

She looked up with rounded eyes. Sammy released the reins and kicked her leg up and over as she dismounted. Immediately, she turned and extended a hand toward Yaz in a gesture of assistance. "Are you okay?"

No. No she wasn't. With a shaky breath and trembling hand, she reached out. Sammy's hands were worn with numerous callouses; no doubt a result from her long days of working hard on the ranch. Her fingers intertwined with Yaz's. At the touch, the dam holding back her tears finally broke. Yaz sank to her knees and began to sob.

Sammy was right there, kneeling down and pulling her into an embrace. "It's okay, Yaz. I'm here," She cooed, gently rubbing her back in a circular motion. 

Yaz nestled closer to her, hoping Sammy's very presence would be enough to chase away her inner demons. "I... I thought... I thought we'd be done with dinosaurs," She admitted weakly. She hated feeling like this. Vulnerable. It was like she was a little kid all over again; someone who needed to be coddled and comforted by her mother.

"I know..." Sammy replied sympathetically as she rested her head against Yaz's. "I wasn't expecting to see a trike so close to home."

It was getting a little easier to breathe now. Just a little. "Why? Why is it here?" She choked out, closing her eyes.

Sammy grew silent. Yaz didn't expect her to answer that rhetorical question. After all, how in the world would she know what a dinosaur was doing hundreds of miles from Nublar?

Rather, Sammy began to hum. Her tone lilted in a melancholic sway. Yaz seemed momentarily taken aback as her heartbeat began to steady and her limbs slackened. With every rise and fall in tempo, Yaz begun to notice an unmistakable pattern in the rhythm.

Yaz leaned back and cupped Sammy's cheek in her hand. Her eyes still stung, and she knew she probably looked like a bedraggled mess. Right now, that didn't matter. "How do you know that song?"

Sammy leaned into Yaz's touch. "Your mother taught it to me. She knows you've been having a tough time since the island..." She trailed off and averted her gaze.

Yaz relaxed her features and silently urged Sammy to continue. "She told me it used to help you when you were little... and I thought it might help in this situation," She murmured sheepishly and rubbed her arm in embarrassment with flushed cheeks.

Yaz cracked a gentle smile at that and swiftly planted a kiss atop her forehead. "It did help. I'm sorry. For freezing like that..."

"Hey, none of that," Sammy lectured sternly with a good-natured smile. She held both of Yaz's hands in her own. "Just because we're off the island, it doesn't mean those feelings just up and disappeared. But I know you, Yaz. You're the bravest, most stubborn fighter I know. We just need to take baby steps again."

Baby steps. Right. It was like running a marathon; you don't go full sprint right off the bat. You pace yourself until you're further along with the finish line in sight.

"It just... surprised me is all," Yaz continued. The fireflies casted a gentle, infrequent glow across the purple and blue painted sky. "I thought I would be over this. But what if...? What if there are more dinosaurs?" Particularly the ones that would have them for a midnight snack.

"I don't know," Sammy admitted, returning the kiss on Yaz's forehead. "But what I do know is that I'm here if you ever need me. We conquered Nublar together. And if dinosaurs are on the mainland now, we'll conquer that together too. You're stronger than your fears."

Yaz smiled and pulled Sammy close. There was one constant in her life when it came to dinosaurs: Sammy. When her PTSD got the better of her on Manta Corp's island, she was there to help ease her nerves and shift her attention toward other matters. Even if they were states apart, she knew Sammy would just be a phone call away. And that was enough.

"I'll always be here for you, mi rosa. For now, and forever."

[threepandas]

Sun Burnt: Part 3

When a legendary hitman Eye Threatens to break both your fucking legs?

They Are Not Joking.

FUCKING OW.

Still! Jokes on HIM! I'm in to that sh-! Wait, no, not the time for memes! Or is it jokes? Irrelevant! I can still fuckin RUN, is the thing. Sucks to SUCK, Sun boy! Us Lightnings are BUILT DIFFERENT!

And I BETTER not hear any snide "yeah I BET they are" from the peanut gallery!

My Flame type ROCKS! I am a TAZER who can put my fist through WALLS. Stand dead center of a road and just? Fuckin TANK a speeding car! Can YOU? Didn't THINK so! Lightning supremacy! One of you fuckers gimme a highfive! HELL YEAH!

But also? Like... I take back EVERYTHING I ever said about the Carcassa.

ALL OF IT.

They are the GEMS of the Mafia. The SHINING HEARTS of raw compassion! Skull-sama's willingness to PERSONALLY piss off The "I AM The Dread God Lesser Deity's Fear" Reborn? An inspiration to us all. I... I would steal for this man. Like? For FREE. Not DIE for him or anything, God no, but? I would steal really REALLY expensive shit for him!

The man's an absolute mad lad. A LEGEND.

I will NEVER forget this... assuming I survive.

Because somehow HE already has my name, face, and multiple alias plastered OUT FOR THE WORLD TO SEE. Ha ha... oh god. Thaaaaat is a bounty. BIG bounty. Lots of zeros. G...gonna die.

My phone chimes.

"You know exactly who this is. Pick up." The screen reads, right before it rings.

HA HA, NOPE!

I stand, well more like shoot to my feet, from my seat on the ground. Quuuuick steps too the blimp windows. Wrench those open. Sim card out! Crush the phone. AND YEET!!! BeGONE DEMOOOON!

We shall NOT be engaging with The Devil today! No Sir!

.....Skull's phone starts ringing.

I whine like a cornered animal. So... this is what a real life horror movie feels like. NEAT. I hate it! I watch, probably shaking, as Skull-sama casually drags out his phone. Glances down at it. Then over his shoulder at me. He doesn't even fully turn his head. Just one Cloud flame purple eye that seems to light up from within.

He's a happy go lucky guy. Cool dude. But like all Clouds? Fucking HATES cages. Being or SEEING other imprisoned. Trapped. Cornered and forced to do something against their will. And as the planet's STRONGEST Cloud?

He's always had exactly zero problems telling Reborn to fuck off to his face. Even when it gets him shot at. Everyone knew that.

"Sempai! Calling the GREAT Skull De Mort just to CHAT~♡? I KNEW you loved me BESTEST!" He PROJECTS into the phone, his speaking cadence shifting.

He'd been gregarious, bombastic even, the whole time I'd been on board. The sort of guy you can't help but want to buy street food with and check out some weird local sight you heard about. The guy that turns an event into a PARTY. A get together into a memory you TREASURE. Larger then life and unashamedly so.

But this? THIS was the SHOWMAN.

And this was the Showman being Obnoxious and MEAN.

Loud, intentionally grating voice. No break in the endless flood of mind numbing chatter that went no where. Bellowing cackling that even the best of speakers would be hard pressed to handle. Standing near machines and windows so the background noise garbled EVERYTHING.

Let no one say Clouds are not PETTY.

"Hmmmmm~? Your WHAT? Sempai! Don't be SILLY! You can't OWN people! That's SLAVERY! It's against~...!" He turned, leaning like a rock star of old against some navigation compartment. Casually examining his nails with a MEAN and wolfish smile on his face. "Waaaaa! Don't be maaad~ Don't be MAAAAAD~!! You know I'd NEVER lie to YOU, Sempai! I'd never DARE! I promise I'll keep a look out, m'kay? What? Don't hang up? Sorry! Can-KRRRRSHK! n't quite KKKKKRRRRRSK! Heeeeear yoooouuuuu~☆!"

Click.

He casually tossed his phone to one of his men. Ignored it even as it rang and rang. With an excited clap of his hand, he hopped up, out of his loose legged splay to stride over. According to him? We should eat! Have I had Burmese food? It's delicious! One of his guys just got "into" the whole cooking thing! So everyone is being supportive!

I can't help but laugh. Everyone politely ignores how wet it is, as Skull-sama throws an arm over my shoulders and drags me from the cockpit.

I know I'm not safe. But for now? Fuck it. Good enough. Maybe Skull-sama knows someplace Reborn might not IMMEDIATELY find me. And who knows? When this all blows over? Maybe I should join up with his crew. Reborn can't be THAT obsessed. Right? It was just the initial harmony high. With no Sky to actually bind us, he'll lose interest.

Behind me... the phone rings.

And rings.

And RINGS.

[rougepancake]

The Summoning (ch. 5)

FT. Leon x Gym Leader!Reader

series m.list

SUMMARY: Guys I wrote this while listening to Sexy Bitch by David Guetta and Akon. Did the song inspire any parts of this chapter? Uh… not even close 😭.

Also slightly ooc Bede because I wasn’t really sure how to write him. I did my best but DAMN. Writing is hard I can’t lie.

Wyndon looked incredibly devoid of life at night. The only people that wandered the sidewalks then were drunkards that didn’t know where to go. However, you didn’t see any on your walk. It was cold, so maybe they were all inside getting warm and cozy. Maybe they were with their families, or maybe they weren’t. You looked up at the sky with a frown. It was gloomy, of course.

You sat on a bench outside of Wyndon Station. Going to Ballonlea seemed tempting, but you knew it wasn’t worth the travel. You missed your town. Even if you were returning tomorrow, you felt like you hadn’t been there in ages. You wondered how Allister was fairing since you had left him alone. He hadn’t called you yet, so that was good.

Sudden movement in your peripheral caught your attention. A child no older than fourteen had left the station, his hands shoved in his pockets as he tried to fight the cold. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were puffy. The poor kid looked rough. He didn’t move, however. He simply stood there.

After watching him for a minute, you decided to speak up. “Are you lost?” You spoke with a gentle tone, rising from your seat on the bench to look at him. The boy jumped upon hearing your voice, and his eyes got wide when he looked at you. It seemed he recognized you. He said nothing. He just stared at you with his puffy purple eyes. “Let’s get you to some place warm…” you approached him slowly, placing a soft hand onto his shoulder before leading him in the direction of the police station. However, he moved away from you when he realized where you were taking him.

“Don’t make me go back…” he mumbled angrily, turning away from you with a shaky sigh. You couldn’t help but be confused. What did he mean by that?

“Where else am I supposed to take you? I’m sure your parents are looking for you—“

He shot you a glare over his shoulder. “I don’t have parents.” Oh. So he was orphaned.

“Can I at least take you back to the orphanage then? The headmistress there must be worried sick—“ he interrupted you once again.

“I’m cold,” he hung his head, his voice wavering. You felt your heart break a little as you watched him.

“Alright alright, follow after me, okay? I’m gonna get you to a nice warm place,” you ushered him to the flying taxi that sat by the Station. He clearly didn’t want to be in Wyndon, despite taking the train there, so you figured you’d take him out to Ballonlea. You needed to be there anyways for your exhibition matches, which meant that you were doing no harm by simply being early. Plus— you knew Allister would be happy to see you.

The cab took off as soon as you sat down, leaving you little to no time to prepare yourself. The boy looked out the window, giving you the impression that he wasn’t very chatty.

“My name is y/n,” you broke the silence, “what’s yours?”

“Bede.”

“Bede? I quite like that name. It suits you,” you looked at him, noticing his Pokéballs. “Are you a gym challenger?”

“I was.”

“I see… how far did you get into the challenge?” You were honestly enjoying the conversation. However, his name seemed slightly familiar to you. In fact, you had felt like you had seen him before.

He hesitated to speak, his head resting on the glass as he watched the region fly by. “… I made it to Stow-on-Side before I was ultimately disqualified… the… person who endorsed me didn’t see me fit enough to continue in the challenge.”

“Oh… that’s… unfortunate…” you frowned, turning to look out your own window. The two of you were almost there. Just a few more minutes. “We’re nearly there.”

Bede had an aura about him that reminded you of someone you’ve met before. You figured you’d ask him more questions when you got to your place. For whatever reason, you had a feeling that you weren’t going to be getting rid of him any time soon.

The cab landed right in front of the fencing that surrounded your house. Bede stepped out of the cab and ignored the cabbie, taking in the sights of Ballonlea with slightly wide eyes. You graciously tipped the cabbie and followed after the child. His expression made you smile. It was true that the sights of the glowing greenery and fungi were mesmerizing at first. You remembered being the same way when you came here for the gym challenge when you were young.

“If this your first time in Ballonlea?” You asked and he huffed in response.

He crossed his arms and turned his head away from you. “Of course not. I’ve been here several times!” It was a blatant lie, but you could tell he was committed to the act.

“Right… I think I’ve heard the gym leader talk about you before,” you smirked, leading him to your house. You opened the door for him, the light from the inside illuminating your face. Bede was now able to get a decent look at your features. He felt his heart drop slightly upon recognizing you, but kept a straight face.

“You’re the Ghost Type gym leader…?” The question left his lips slowly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded slightly afraid. Had the sight of your face frightened him so? A chuckle left your lips and Bede hung his head. Reluctantly, he took a step inside, shivering at the sudden warmth that washed over his body. He struggled to adjust to it as he walked further into the entryway.

“Follow me, child,” you shrugged off your coat and hung it, leading him to the kitchen and getting him seated at the table. He folded his hands awkwardly on the furniture, his eyes focused on the seat in front of him. As he adjusted to the new setting, you began preparing him a simple meal. Nothing better than Scorebunny shaped macaroni and cheese. You placed a bowl in front of him and then began to take care of the dishes you used. “So tell me the truth, Bede. What brought you to Wyndon in the middle of the night?”

“…” he frowned, staring down at the bowl in front of him. This was all so foreign to him. Someone he had just met had taken him simply because he didn’t want to go home… not to mention how kind you were being to him. Making him something to eat at one in the morning? Not even the people who would wait on him would do such a thing. “I… I ran away… and I was going to go back…”

“So why didn’t you?” Your tone was gentle, yet serious. The sound of dishes clinking echoed in the room for a brief moment, amplified by the silence that filled the air. You knew there was more to it than that. There’s no way there wasn’t. “Bede?” You turned to look at him. Hearing your voice made him jump, seemingly pulling him away from his thoughts and back to the situation at hand.

“Um…” he swallowed, setting down his fork and staring at the food once again. “The person that endorsed me so I could enter the gym challenge was my adoptive father… he pulled his endorsement yesterday and I was to return back home in Wyndon…”

“But you didn’t,” you murmured, your eyes focused on his body language. He seemed timid, almost, which seemed odd given how cocky he came across earlier. Slowly, you walked over to the table and pulled out a seat. You looked at him closely. His eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were still quite rosy.

“I didn’t,” he affirmed, refusing to lift his head and meet your stare. “I… I don’t want to go back…” he mumbled.

You sighed softly, pinching the bridge of your nose in thought. “Unfortunately, I have to know the name of your father so I can get in contact with him and let him know you’re alright.” Bede tensed, looking up at you with betrayal in his eyes. “If I don’t at least let him know, then that’s going to fall back on me. I’m too young to be charged with kidnapping,” you said semi seriously, leaning back in your chair to give him some space.

“But he won’t even care,” Bede argued, his eyes searching yours desperately. “Oleana probably already told him anyways. He won’t come looking for me.” The name he mentioned rung a bell within your head, and you perked up at the mention of it.

“Oleana…” your brows furrowed. “Bede you mean to tell me that the man that adopted you is the Chairman?” You let out a scoff of disbelief. “I knew I had seen you before!” You rose from your seat, but the child grabbed your arm, clinging to you.

“Please don’t tell him,” he begged. The look he gave you broke your heart, but you had to at least let someone know where he was.

“Listen…” you crouched down to his level, looking him right in the eyes. “In terms of Galar’s laws, you’re free to travel and do as you please once you set out on your journey to become a trainer.” You didn’t have it in you to actually follow through with telling Rose. “If you want to stay with me until you find somewhere else to go, then that’s your choice. But, as long as you’re under my roof, you’ll be training at my Gym. Is that a deal?”

Bede nodded slowly. He was so incredibly thankful that you had changed your mind. At this point he was willing to do anything just to make it up to you.

“There’s a guest room upstairs to the left. Go ahead and get some rest,” you took his bowl and headed back over to the sink. “Make sure to be quiet. I’ve got an adopted son of my own who sleeps in the room at the end of the hallway.” Bede nodded and left the kitchen. Once you heard the door to the guest room close, you quickly pulled out your phone, calling the first person you could think of.

Leon? No.

Piers.

Now you weren’t one hundred percent sure he’d pick up the phone, especially since he had upcoming exhibition matches later in the day. Then again, you didn’t really know that much about Piers. He might be a night owl. That would make a lot of sense actually, especially since he always seemed to have incredibly dark circles around his eyes.

“Hullo?” The sound of his tired voice met your ears and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Uh… hey..! I didn’t wake you, did I?” You stammered. You wanted to kick yourself for being anxious.

“Nah, I jus’ got done with a show.” Oh yeah. You had totally forgotten about his musical career. “Is everythin’ alright?”

You paused, thinking about how to phrase your next sentence. “Has Marnie told you about the kid that’s been endorsed by the Chairman?

Piers grunted, recalling what his sister had told him about the kid. “Yeah, she told me he was a little jerk. She said he got disqualified from tha gym challenge for destroyin’ somethin’ in Stow-on-Side for Rose’s name.” You frowned upon hearing that, looking down at the floor as you leaned against the counter.

“Well… I’ve been staying in Wyndon the past few days, and while on a walk I stumbled across a kid who had just gotten off the train. Listen— the whole reason I’m bringing this up is because the kid I found is Marnie’s age and happens to be the kid endorsed by Rose,” you began to pace as you spoke, anxiously thrumming your fingers against the backside of your phone. “According to Galarian laws, I can take him in so long as I’m training him, right?”

“Yeah that’s the law,” he paused. You heard him take a deep breath, exhaling in a slow whistle. “Are ya still in Wyndon?”

“No, I’m not. I took him back to Ballonlea so he could get proper rest in a warm bed. Listen Piers, he really doesn’t want to go back. I’m torn. This is the Rose’s son, after all. I—“ you were cut off by the sound of rustling clothes. “What are you doing? Are you going back out?” You spoke fast, something that you didn’t usually do. Though, to be fair, this whole situation had you a little on edge.

“Piers doesn’t do encores.” You looked over and checked the time. Two thirty in the morning. “Ballonlea, right? I’m headin’ out. Meet me by th’ Pokécenter.” He hung up abruptly, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Hastily, you rushed to freshen yourself up, to look somewhat decent for a man that couldn’t care less about appearances. You ran a comb through your hair and threw on your coat.

That was when the rain started. Pouring, unrelenting rain. Hail followed shortly after, giant chunks of ice falling from the sky. Of course. Umbrella in hand, you pushed through the harsh weather. You wound up reaching the Pokécenter right as Piers’ cab was landing. The cabbie gave you both a nod and left. You now stood in front of Piers, a man you were considering to be dating material no less than five hours ago. In short, you felt very awkward standing there with him. Maybe you should’ve just woken Leon up.

After standing there for a minute, Piers spoke up, looking out at the horrid weather. “So how are we gonna make it to your place?” You felt your heart jump, startled by the sudden sound of his voice. With a sigh, you followed his gaze. The hail seemed to get bigger with each passing second.

“I suppose we’ll just have to run,” you mused, your grip on your umbrella tightening. Looking at Piers, you noticed that you had a hood and he didn’t. So, naturally, you passed off your umbrella to him and threw on your hood. He gave you a confused look, but upon seeing your determination, he kept the umbrella. You grabbed ahold of his wrist and dragged him out into the harsh weather. Wind immediately began to whip against your face, nearly pushing your hood off of your head.

Hail hit your body as you walked, the rain drenching you entirely. You could hardly see the ground in front of you, each step you took growing less and less confident. The outline of your house came into sight and you let out a relived sigh. You began to walk faster, dragging Piers behind you through the rain. As soon as the two of you were protected by your front porch you turned to look at him. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t drenched. He so lucked out.

You opened the door for him, leaving your shoes outside before joining him. Arceus you were practically soaked.

“Just make yourself at home,” you said with a shiver. Piers nodded and found his way to the living room. Coincidentally enough, he went and he sat a seat away from Leon usually sat. “I’m going to go get changed real quick,” you explained before speed walking up the stairs. Your room was the one on the far right, but you chose to make a detour at the guest room to check in Bede.

Despite being sopping wet and cold, you felt a need to make sure he was okay. Thankfully, he was asleep, resting peacefully in his new bed. You smiled at the sight. It made you feel better to know that he felt comfortable here. You closed the door and went to Allister’s room. He and Mimikyu were out cold. His mask sat on the nightstand beside his bed, right next to a Pokéball. You tilted your head at the sight. So far Allister only had Mimikyu in his party. Had he caught another Pokémon while you were away?

You grinned. Bit by bit he was coming out of his shell. Oh you were so proud of him.

You closed the door and went to your room to change. Each piece of clothing you pealed off left you feeling much colder than before. When you were fully undressed, you snatched up a towel and dried yourself off. You threw on something simple and headed back downstairs to talk things out with Piers.

“Feelin’ warmer?” He looked up from his phone to see you. Tired eyes briefly met your own, causing you to stutter. You didn’t know why, but Piers just seemed to make you anxious. Not like bad anxious. But more like the type of anxiety that only a small crush can cause. A teeny tiny, itty bitty, totally not a big deal, crush.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded after clearing your throat. You sat down on the sofa across from him, leaning into the plushness with a sigh. “So why did you choose to come out here?” You asked after a minute or two. His decision to fly all the way out to Ballonlea from Spikemuth confused you.

“You sounded like you were freakin’ out on th’ phone,” he leaned forward to study you. “I thought it might help t’ have someone that isn’t a child here.” His words made your heart swell. How considerate of him. Would Leon have done the same thing? A shiver pulled you from your thoughts. Now was not the time to be asking those questions. “Oh, an’ before you freak out again, I’m not gonna rat you out.”

“I—“ you let out a relieved chuckle. A smile made its way to your face and you hung your head. “Thank you, Piers. I really owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me nothin’. You’ve given more to Spikemuth than I could ever dream of.” He was so sweet when he had no right to be. “It’s me that owes you, an’ I’m makin’ it up by helpin’ you out.” Slowly, you raised your head, meeting his gaze with hesitation. Just looking at him made you feel embarrassed. But why? He hadn’t done anything but be nice. Was that it? Was it his kindness that was throwing you off?

“Are you sure? This is a really big thing we’re talking about here,” you sighed. Piers gave you a look of reassurance before getting up and sitting next to you. Naturally, you tensed at his closeness. You watched him hesitate to place a hand on your shoulder. Was he just as nervous as you were..?

“It’ll be fine. You’re followin’ th’ rules. That should be enough.” You could feel the coldness of his glove through your shirt. Your head turned and you looked at him, taking in his features while you could. The rain continued to pour outside, which meant that Piers wouldn’t be going home any time soon.

“You have exhibition matches tomorrow…” you mumbled, unable to tear your eyes from his. A light shade of pink dusted his cheeks, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

“You’re right…” he trailed of as you had, finding himself to be lost in your eyes. He had always found you to be rather attractive, but seeing you as he was only made him more aware of your beauty. His heart throbbed in his chest as he removed his hand from your shoulder. “Um… it’s late…” he looked away awkwardly, now staring at the clock above the fireplace. You followed his gaze and frowned.

“Yeah…” you cringed at your response. Yeah? Who the hell says that? Your eye twitched and you frowned. “You’ll have to leave early to get to Spikemuth on time.”

“Huh? I was just gonna go now—“ Piers froze, finally acknowledging the rain. He stared blankly at the floor in thought. Your words began registering in his head. Leave early? Did you want him to spend the night? He looked up at you, noticing the embarrassed smile you wore. “Is it cool if I crash here?”

“Of course—!” You chuckled nervously and stood up. “Uh… let me show you to my room.”

“Your room?” His face reddened at the thought.

“Y-Yeah? I’ll stay out here and you can rest up there—“

“I’m not gonna steal your bed!” He suddenly stood upright, his eyes focused on yours. He was stiff, his shoulders scrunched up awkwardly as he stared you down. “I… I mean…” he looked away, pursing his lips, “I’ll take th’ couch. You can have your bed back.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you. “Are you sure? I think I’ve got an inflatable mattress somewhere in the attic—“ the look on his face caused you to trail off. He looked so embarrassed, despite only being slightly flushed. You were beginning to feel bad that you had made him so flustered. Though you weren’t sure why. “I’ll go and get a few heavy blankets for you then,” you backed away slowly. The tension in the air was so horribly thick that you could’ve reached out and grabbed it. Plus, you needed a breather.

You opened the door to the closet underneath the staircase. It didn’t take you long to grab a few blankets that you thought would be warm enough. With the blankets in hand, you peered into the living room, giving Piers a sheepish smile.

“Will these be enough?” You walked towards him slowly.

“Yeah,” he reached out and took the blankets from you before turning away from you. He brought a hand up to his neck to rub it as he stood there. “Uhh, g’night.” You noticed that his ears were turning a bright shade of red. Piers was no stranger to the eyes of others, especially since he recently became one of the top artists in the world. Though, you couldn’t help but wonder what it was about you that made him act so out of character. You gave him an awkward wave before leaving and heading back upstairs.

You knew that if you went to sleep that Eternatus would visit you. You weren’t quite ready for that just yet, so you sat down on the edge of your bed and opened up your phone. It turned out that you had a few missed calls from none other than… wait a second. How in the world had this person gotten your number? And why were they calling you?

“So you must be Oleana,” you said rather smoothly. At first, nothing but the sound of static came from the other side. You really thought you were getting pranked.

“We have important matters to discuss, y/n.”

꧁ ༺ ─── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ─── ༻ ꧂

Morning arose, the bright sunlight shining through the dark clouds that hung over the region. Piers had left your place a little early to ensure he’d be back in Spikemuth on time, but he made sure to write you a note and leave it on the counter. He was tired, as usual, and a little unenthusiastic for the day’s matches. Going based off of everything that Marnie had told him, these kids were going to be a challenge for him.

He stepped out of his shower, using the closest towel to dry off his long, and rather messy, hair. In front of him stood the sink, and above it was the mirror. He took a second to simply stare at himself. Oh how tired he looked. He frowned and looked down at his body. For a moment, he wondered what made him think he was good enough for someone like you. He shook his head and wrapped the towel loosely around his waist.

All he could think about was how concerned you had been for that kid. Then he remembered how quickly you had spoken up in Allister’s defense at the meeting a few days ago. Days. Over the span of just a few days he had fallen so hard for an idea that seemed to be so incredibly out of his reach. He pulled his uniform top over his head. Watching you speak out against Rose like you had made him admire you more than he already did. Of course he had always found your donations to Spikemuth to be so generous, but watching you defend the one thing that you cared about just made him wonder.

Everything you had said in that argument had been true, and mostly rooted in genuine concern for the region. But your connection to Allister… it reminded him of how much he loved Marnie. He recalled the glint in your eyes when you slammed your hands onto the table. He had related to you. Many times had he gotten into fights for the sake of protecting his sister, and to watch one of the most distinguished trainers in the region do the same made him feel like he wasn’t really alone.

The ache in his heart was one of pure longing. He couldn’t really explain why he had fallen for you, despite having tried through song. He didn’t like the pain it caused him. Recently he had begun to lose more sleep, simply because he didn’t want to close his eyes and see you standing there. Each time, he’d see you standing right in front of him, your back facing him. Each time, you’d be just out of reach. And he’d try. He’d try each and every time to simply reach out to you. He wanted desperately to know that he wasn’t alone. He craved connection with you so much that he had begun to feel like he was losing his mind.

How come the one thing he wanted the most was so far out of reach?

Piers slid on his boots with a heavy sigh. He’d forever regret coming over to calm you down. Not because he didn’t want to help you, but because it only intensified his feelings. Thunder rolled in the distance. He had forgotten all about the rain. The clock on his nightstand read nine o’clock in the morning. Thankfully he was almost done getting ready.

He sat down on the edge of his bed and frowned. He had yet to see any spectators getting ready for the upcoming challengers. He stood up and pulled back a black curtain, pressing his face against the window to see the entrance to Spikemuth closed. All he could do was look at it. Maybe that was a sign. He had been thinking of retiring after Marnie finished the gym challenge.

The curtain was released from his grip, falling back into place against his window. He envied it. For each time it was disturbed by an outside force, it would fall back into its original position. He wished he could do the same.

With a heavy heart, he left his apartment and headed to the stage. He’d deal with his feelings later if he ever got around to going on that date with you. He was hoping he’d be able to stump the upcoming challengers so he’d be able to see you, but he knew he was in over his head. At least one of them would beat him. There was always one that was much stronger than the rest.

He subconsciously fiddled with his choker as he walked down the street. He heard a few Team Yell members say something about Marnie leading a friend inside, which made him frown deeper. He took his place on the stage and waited. The mic stand before him was gripped with shaky hands. Never had he been so nervous. Were you the one to blame? Or was it Marnie…

Marnie entered the area, and another young girl joined her not too long after. They spoke some before the girl stepped up.

“So you’re finally here, huh?” He eyed the girl. This one. This one was the outlier. “Now then…” he stepped down off the stage and onto the court. Of course, he took the mic stand with him. It added to his charm as a gym leader. “This song’s for you, foolish trainer!”

꧁ ༺ ─── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ─── ༻ ꧂

Leon sat upright in his temporary bed. Dreams had eluded him, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was amiss. He swung his legs over the side and stretched. Curiously, he peered over to look between the two doors that connected him to your room. He had yet to hear anything from you, which he found to be odd. You would’ve been ready by now.

He grabbed his phone and looked at it. No messages or anything. Had you just gone back to Ballonlea for your matches? The longer he stared at your contact the more he felt alone. Why hadn’t you said anything to him? He sighed and got up. He’d have to push you out of his thoughts for now. In fact, he was due for a meeting with the Chairman.

He carelessly threw off his shirt on the way to the bathroom. If you weren’t here, then he didn’t need to worry about you seeing him shirtless. Again. He set his phone on the counter in hopes that you would message him soon. You had him worried. Hell, you had him panicked. Why had you left without a word? Had he done something to upset you?

The water was warm as it rushed down his back. He could practically feel it soak into him. Slowly, he washed his hair, eyeing his phone through the glass door. Maybe you’d message him. Hopefully you’d message him. His heart sank. If he didn’t end up hearing from you soon, he’d have to resort to going all the way out to Ballonlea. Curse his inability to read maps.

He shut off the water and wrapped the towel around his waist. The screen of his phone lit up and he nearly slipped while trying to get to it. However, the sight of the contact made his expression fall. The Chairman sent him a message. Hesitantly, he opened it up, reading its contents slowly.

Rose had questions. And Leon had answers.

Things were only going to go downhill.

Leon got dressed as quickly as he could before heading out of the hotel. Fans immediately swarmed him, their voices giving him a headache. He smiled at each one of them, passing out league cards and such to hold them off. Once he got to the monorail, he set off for Rose Tower. The gloomy weather only added to his growing feeling of dread. The monorail came to a halt, leaving him standing in front of a building that he had always been wary of.

Slowly, he began to walk towards it. The doors automatically opened, yet there was no sign of the Chairman. In fact, he didn’t see anyone at all.

A door at the end of the corridor opened, the light from it illuminating that end of the room. A voice called out to him.

“I would appreciate it if you joined me for some tea, Leon.” It was the voice of a woman. She sounded sinister, and it unnerved him. He frowned, taking tiny steps towards the door.

“What do you want, Oleana?” He asked as she shut the door behind him.

“To ask questions, of course.”

꧁ ༺ ─── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ─── ༻ ꧂

Bede came down the stairs to see you talking seriously with Allister. He had yet to meet Allister, but the thought made him cringe. He wasn’t too fond of children other than himself. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat, which caused both you and the other boy to look at him. You waved him over and he frowned. Allister had always been painted as a weird kid, most likely due to his love for ghost type Pokémon and the mask he wore. Bede didn’t really want to sit down and have a ‘family discussion’ despite his current situation being the closest thing he’d ever get to having a family.

“Allister, this is the other child that will be training under me,” you said gently. You had a hand on his shoulder, your expression kind. Bede softened at the sight. Was that how he was going to be treated? Would you love him too?

“H-Hello…” the child mumbled, his head hung. Bede nodded awkwardly, giving you a look before taking a deep breath and opening his mouth.

“I don’t know how much she has told you, but I will in fact be staying here for a while,” he tapped his fingers against his thighs underneath the table. “Um…” he looked at you for reassurance. He had never really been good at talking to kids his age. “Yeah…” he trailed off and looked away.

You stood up and nodded, clasping your hands together before going off and grabbing a few dishes. “I’ve made breakfast for you both. If you need anything, I’ll be at the Gym. I may or may not have exhibition matches today, so I’ll let you know if anything changes. Bede, my number is pinned on the fridge if you need anything. If you have any questions, then don’t be afraid to ask Allister.” You stretched your arms over your head and walked over to the door. You slid on your shoes and left.

Bede found your behavior to be strange. You were acting like everything was normal, even though your life had just been turned upside down. He turned to look at Allister, who had pushed up his mask so he could eat. It felt strange. He felt strange. To go from almost returning to a home that didn’t love him to one that took him in with open arms, it was all too much for him to handle. He sighed and began to eat, and, surprisingly, he found the food you prepared to be rather delicious.

“So what do you do while she’s out?” Bede asked after a while. He could see Allister jump at the sound of his voice. He frowned.

“U-um… I just… train ‘n stuff…” he spoke between bites. When he finished his meal, he got up and put his dishes in the sink. Mimikyu followed him, hopping around excitedly.

“Will she let me into the gym?” Bede stood up and followed after Allister. He wanted to get a taste for your battle style. He wanted to challenge you and win. He wanted—

“Yeah… she lets anyone in,” the younger boy mumbled as he picked up Mimikyu. He then left the room, and Bede was left alone with his curious mind.

He took care of his own dishes before pulling out his Hatenna. It looked up at him expectantly, cooing when he picked it up and placed it on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he left the house and began walking toward the gym. For some reason, it felt great to have free will. It felt even greater to be able to head out without his duties looming over him. He finally got to experience what it was like to be a child. A smile made its way onto his face as he stood at the entrance to the gym. That was the first time he had ever smiled so sincerely. It felt weird. He got rid of it and opened the doors, stopping when he saw you standing in the lobby.

“You know, I thought you’d come here,” you chuckled, walking towards him. “Are you willing to begin your training?” You seemed to have a different aura now that you were in the gym, and it threw him off. You seemed… confident. Bede nodded in response, watching as you eyed his Hatenna. You nodded and led him out onto the field.

A few spectators sat in the stands, but other than that it was empty. No announcers, no nothing. It felt odd to be in a gym without the rush the audience provided. You stopped walking when you reached the center of the field. You pulled out a Pokéball and dropped it. Chandelure appeared, crying out into the air as it stretched. It floated above the ground, spinning mesmerizingly. It was beautiful.

“Use your Pokémon to defeat Chandelure,” you said simply, walking off to the sidelines.

“That’s it? That’s my training?” He set down Hatenna and pulled out Gothita. “That’s too easy. Psychic type moves are super effective on Ghost types.” Gothita gave Chandelure a nervous look, turning around to look back at Bede.

“If you say so,” you smirked. Wait, why weren’t you standing on your side of the field? Was Chandelure just going to sit there? No… that was too simple. “Good luck!” You called, grabbing the lawn chair Gengar had just brought you and sitting down. You were curious to see how Bede handled battle. Especially against your strongest Pokémon.

While Bede was battling, you decided to check your phone. You had a few messages from Piers and a missed call from Leon. Your heart sank.

“Leon? Is everything alright?” You called him back, glad that he picked up. “I’m sorry that I didn’t message you sooner, but something came up and I’ve been dealing with it all day.”

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he paused, “Oleana called me in to Rose Tower. She wanted to ask about our studies. I told her that we didn’t really get anywhere, but she didn’t buy it,” he sighed.

“She called me this morning,” you said slowly. You found it odd that she had reached out to him too. “But she didn’t ask me about that stuff.”

“Really? That’s odd.”

“Just wait, it gets weirder. She knew about my dreams of Eternatus. Leon she knows more than she’s letting on, I know it. If she knows, then Rose knows. What will they do when they figure everything out?” You sighed, frowning slightly. “Listen,” you lowered your voice, “Eternatus is connected to Ballonlea in some way. That statue? Each generation of Opal’s family has taken care of it since the age of the two kings. But because Opal never had children, I’m guessing those duties were passed on to me,” you paused to allow him to process everything. “It’s all connected to our situation at hand— I just don’t know how…”

Bede let out a groan of frustration as Chandelure rendered Gothita unconscious. He wasted no time sending out Solosis.

“Your connection to this thing is very interesting,” Leon said after a while. “You know, Sonia is actually looking into the tale of the two kings, I’m sure she’d like to hear your story.”

“Let’s save that for after we deal with Eternatus.”

“You’re right. What are you doing right now?”

“I’m watching my latest pupil train—“ you cut yourself off, feeling your phone buzz. Piers sent you another message. “Scratch that, I’m getting ready for exhibition matches. I suppose your brother and his buddies made it past Piers after all.” You stood up from your chair and looked out at the field.

“Of course he did. He’s a force to be reckoned with, that one,” he chuckled loudly on the other end. “Is it okay if I come to the gym to watch them? I’d love to see the progress he’s made.”

“Yeah I don’t mind. Piers said he’d be there too, since he wants to watch Marnie complete the gym challenge.” You gestured for Bede to take a break. “Just don’t get lost.” Leon simply laughed and hung up. You wandered over to Bede, who looked confused. “Go get Allister and tell him I’ve got upcoming matches. He’ll show you where to sit, so don’t worry about that,” you paused, smiling softly at the child before you. “You did very well today. I’ll make sure to give you some pointers next time.”

Bede froze, his eyes widening slightly. He couldn’t believe you thought he did good. He couldn’t believe that you, the third strongest trainer in the region, thought that he did good. He stared at you for a second before walking off the field. Your words had rendered him speechless.

Once he was off the field, you began to take over. Staff members began appearing and spectators started to filter in. Wow. The word gets around fast in Galar.

You left the field and headed for the lobby. It was much more hectic than you imagined. Tons of people were in line to buy tickets, causing your jaw to drop in shock. It had been quite a long time since one of your matches had been completely sold out. You weren’t even sure if you had enough seating room for some of these people. With a smile, you snuck into the locker room and waited patiently for your first challenger.

Sure enough, the first one of the bunch was Hop. He entered the maze eagerly. His attitude remained the same even as he continued to make collisions with dead ends. His smile looked just like his brother’s. It was contagious too, since you found yourself smiling while watching the footage.

Eventually, he made it out to the field, where you joined him. He stared at you in awe, letting out a gasp as his eyes followed your movements.

“Challenger Hop, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” you held yourself upright as you spoke, making you tower over the kid. He grinned. “I’ve heard many good things about you and your friends.”

“I’m so excited to be here!” He shouted, and the crowd chuckled. “I’ve been waiting so long to challenge your gym!” He was practically jumping for joy, which made you smile.

“That feeling will change when you lose, don’t worry,” you taunted, taking a step back so you could appropriately summon your first Pokémon. You decided to start with Gengar for this battle, since it seemed eager to fight. Hop brought out a Dubwool, his eyes shining with determination. You smirked, looking up at the stands before beginning the battle.

Gengar easily took out Dubwool. It was at an advantage since Normal type moves aren’t effective against Ghost types. He then pulled out Snorlax. Seriously? Had he not learned from the last one? You raised a brow, confused by his thought process. You ordered Gengar to take it out, but right as it moved, Snorlax did too. It took your Gengar out with it, leaving both Pokémon unconscious on the field. You were bewildered. Never had you encountered a Pokémon strong enough to take Gengar out with just one move.

“What an interesting move. However, I’m ahead,” you spoke as you brought out Trevenant. Hop’s eyes widened at the sight. Your Trevenant was larger than the standard height for its species, which meant that it towered over most Pokémon. Cinderace met it on the field, which made you sigh. After this you’d have one last Pokémon to drag out. Hop may’ve been at a type advantage now, but you’d still win.

After all, you never lost. It simply just wasn’t in your nature.

In the blink of an eye, Trevenant took down Cinderace. Hop’s smile faltered a little. He was surprised by the raw strength of your Pokémon. Hesitantly, he called out the last Pokémon in his party, Corviknight.

The crowd cheered both of you on, chanting excitedly as they watched. Your opponent was getting a bit emotional, seeing as he threw his arms around with each bad move he made. Oh yeah. He was just like his brother.

The battle came to a conclusion and you saw him off. You told him to come back when you finished up with his friends. He went off to sit in the stands, unaware that his older brother had seen the whole thing. You stepped off the field to heal your Pokémon, and a brief intermission followed while the next challenger entered your trial. It was Marnie.

Your battle against Marnie went rougher than Hop’s. She had a type advantage throughout the whole thing, but you managed to gain the upper hand and throw her off with your Chandelure. If not for your dynamaxing Chandelure, you might’ve lost that battle. You shuddered. These trainers really were a force to be reckoned with. You wondered if Raihan was going to be able to hold them off as well as you were.

The final challenger set foot into the trial, and you instantly knew that this was the one. This was Gloria. Sweet and innocent looking, yet this kid knew her shit. She had powered through all of the gyms prior, and seemed to be much stronger than she looked. You grinned. Challenging her was going to be a wonderful challenge.

But you’d win, as per usual.

“Well hello there, Challenger Gloria,” you smiled as you spoke. You unintentionally came across as intimidating, causing her to nervously chuckle. She said nothing as she shook your hand, taking her place on the field in silence. Unusual. Whatever, you were going to rock her shit.

Unfortunately, you were wrong. You lost the battle, but just barely. The battle was intense and stress inducing, but you got the chance to Gigantamax Gengar, so there was that. You had wiped out all but one of her Pokémon rather quickly, only seeming to struggle when she pulled out her partner Pokémon. Things went downhill when she took out your Runerigus.

You stood before her on the field, shaking her hand as you handed her your badge and uniform. She looked at you with gleaming eyes. She still said nothing, her eyes on yours. There was something about her that put you off. Her strength astonished you. How did she manage to get so strong in such a short amount of time.

“Raihan is waiting for you in Hammerlocke,” you told her, “make sure to beat his ass on my behalf.” She giggled and stepped off the field.

Hop stepped up for his rematch. You let him win (just barely), and handed off your badge to him. Marnie followed, looking much more confident than before. You heard Piers cheer her name loudly, causing you to laugh. Marnie won fair and square, though just barely. You gave her your badge and sent her on her way.

A long sigh escaped you as you returned to the locker rooms. You felt exhausted. Those kids were much stronger than you let on. In fact, your Chandelure was having a hard time keeping up with them. Especially with Marnie. Curse type matchups.

You stared down at your hands in silence, thinking over everything that had happened to you over the past few days. It all seemed to be moving so fast. First you have that meeting, then you begin history hunting with the Champion, and now you have a date with Piers—

“Oh my Arceus,” you mumbled, rubbing a hand across your face. You had forgotten all about your date with Piers! Well, it wasn’t necessarily a date, but still. You stood up and stretched. You were going to have to get ready fast if you wanted to be done by the time he left Ballonlea.

Weather sirens howled. Your phone began to blow up. You could feel your heart drop as you picked it up and scrolled through the several notifications you received.

Groups of well trained trainers were heading out into the wild area to help take down the dynamaxing Pokémon. You hadn’t realized that it had gotten so out of hand.

Just then, you heard several screams coming from the field. Without wasting any time, you rushed out, gasping at the sight before you. Several people were paralyzed by fear, stuck in one place despite the danger they faced. You looked up into the stands and saw that Leon and Piers were still there. Bede and Allister stood next to them.

“Evacuate the gym!” You shouted, ushering them to act hastily. “Don’t worry about me! I’ll handle this!” You reassured as you brought out Chandelure’s Pokéball. Desperate times call for desperate measures. You were going to deal with this.

You held the ball and turned to face the dynamaxed Kommo-o. How it had gotten into the gym, you had no idea. It did worry you, though. This Pokémon was known for being aggressive and territorial. If it chose to put up a fight, you didn’t know what you’d do.

Taking a deep breath, you sent Chandelure out onto the field. You needed to wait to dynamax it, lest you throw away your opportunity to weaken it. Chandelure fought, each move in sync with yours. It moved left, you did too. This was a battling style that was rare among trainers, seeing as many simply don’t have a good enough relationship with their Pokémon. It was said that the longer you could keep up, the stronger Chandelure would get. Some Pokémon have even changed appearances due to the bond they have with their trainer.

“Wait—!” You screamed as Kommo-o swung, knocking your partner to the side like a bug. You watched in horror, looking over to the stands and seeing Bede standing next to Allister. What the hell were they still doing there? Did they not realize it was dangerous? You closed your eyes, taking a brief moment to collect yourself. Chandelure was okay, you could feel it. When you opened your eyes, you realized that you had perfectly synced with it. You were able to see everything it saw, and feel everything that it felt.

Now. Now was the time to dynamax.

Chandelure grew in size, changing in appearance to take on a much more sinister form of itself. It looked terrifying. The move it made was even more so. In one swift turn, it began draining the life force from the Kommo-o. The creature cried out before stumbling backwards into the stands. Thankfully that side had already been cleared out. Your partner weakened it with ease, nearly killing it in the process. Once you deemed it safe, you attempted to catch it. You were going to turn this one in to Rose.

“Y/n saved us!” A voice shouted in awe, pulling you from the trance you were in. You lost your sync with Chandelure and it returned to its original form, size and all. You turned to see who had called out, noticing that they had a phone in their hand. Had they recorded the incident? Surely not.

“The stadium was supposed to be empty!” You frowned, looking at your Pokémon. “Let’s go. You’re looking awfully rough,” you put it back into its Pokéball and left the field.

In the locker rooms, you found yourself being bombarded by texts and calls from various people you knew. Apparently your battle with the dangerous Pokémon had gone viral, and people were commending you for your bravery. They were calling your bond with Chandelure an amazing phenomena. According to the messages you received, no such thing had been recorded in Galar’s battle history.

“Are you alright?” Leon’s voice met your ears. Next to him stood Piers and the boys. Poor children. They looked horribly worried.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you looked down at the floor, “but Chandelure… and the stadium…” you sighed and shook your head.

“Hey don’t worry about that right now. You saved all of those people, that’s what matters,” he stepped forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. You nodded slowly in agreement.

“You’re right…” you lifted your head and looked at Allister, opening your arms for a hug. He ran towards you, holding onto you tightly. “I’m so glad you boys are safe,” you whispered, motioning Bede over. Reluctantly, he joined you.

“How did that thing even get in there?” Piers asked, leaning against the wall. He was trying to play off his jealousy of Leon, but he couldn’t stop looking at him.

Leon stepped back and scratched his head in thought. “It might’ve belonged to a trainer in the stands. If so, then that means…” he turned slowly to look at you, his expression fallen.

“It’s not just wild Pokémon that can dynamax at random.”

꧁ ༺ ─── ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ─── ༻ ꧂

Rose sat at the table, staring blankly at the tea in front of him. Eternatus would wake up any day now, at any given time. Dread filled his heart. Was he really making the best possible decision for the region? He felt he was in the right, but the more he continued to think about it, the more he wondered. Was this dangerous?

His phone buzzed on the table, the screen illuminating as notifications covered the lock screen. Everything he saw was in reference to your battle with a dynamaxed Kommo-o that tore apart your gym’s stadium. There was a video he saw, but he didn’t watch it. Though, one article in particular caught his attention. The image above the headline was one of you looking over your shoulder, your Chandelure behind you, its eyes glowing the same color as yours. The headline read ‘Gym Leader Y/n defends crowd by showing Galar why she’s ranked top three in the region.’

He noticed that both you and your Pokémon had changed appearance to resemble each other in the moment. Cases of such things happening had only been reported in Kalos, and even then these occurrences were incredibly rare. He stared at the picture, reading the headline over and over just so he could make sense of it.

Plenty of times Rose has witnessed you fight, assessing you to get a gauge on just how strong you and your team are. He’d done that with the other gym leaders, creating fail proof systems to take them down if need be. Because of this, he thought he knew each and every one of your tricks.

This news only made him wonder if you were secretly stronger than he thought. If that was the case, then that meant Raihan and Leon were on the same level.

He felt reassured, to a degree. He had planned that Leon would be the one to catch Eternatus and save the region. If you were that strong, and, hypothetically, Leon surpassed you, then that meant Galar was in good hands.

Rose put away his phone, redirecting his gaze to the tea before him. He grabbed the small cup and took a sip, turning his head to look out of the large window beside him. He recalled seeing Bede in the background of one of your photos, which made his heart hurt. Of course he had found you. Of course. He took another sip of the tea. Now Bede would have you and Allister. That was more of a family than he could’ve provided anyhow. Yet, it still caused him pain to think about.

Family. He envied you and your growing family. You had many people to care about you, and you cared about many people, which was a stark contrast to Rose’s life. Rose had himself to care about. All of his family had either cut him off or passed away, which meant that he was eternally alone. Of course, Oleana was always there, but Rose didn’t like Oleana. He found her to be selfish and annoying, which wasn’t something that he wanted to be surrounded by forever.

He sighed. Macro Cosmos had already begun preparations for Eternatus’ awakening. Despite being in charge of it all, he wasn’t quite sure what they were doing. Apparently they were in the process of designing a Pokéball that would be able to withstand Eternatus’ abilities. He found the idea laughable. That creature wasn’t going to go down without a fight once it awoke, so why bother? If he was making Leon take care of it, then his group really didn’t have anything to worry about.

Hammerlocke, however, was going to need to be on high alert. He didn’t wish to tell them though, as it would spare him the long explanation of why he was doing what he was. He frowned as he thought of Raihan. Despite his strength as a Pokémon trainer, Raihan didn’t stand a chance against the raw strength of Eternatus. To be fair, you didn’t either. He scoffed. He didn’t even know if Leon was capable enough to handle it, he just knew that if he pushed it onto him, that the man would step up.

Rose took another sip of the tea. It was cold. He frowned.

He missed his brother.

[lamentingocean]

Do a analysis on his power. Let's start with our insane husband. jaha Lee. The master of the black rabbit clan.

Jaha:

he has near superhuman physical strength. When we are talking physically, I mean punching a person in fact or slapping someone so hard. so let's do this here.

Jaha made an entire building rumble by his pure physical strength, and that isn't normal for only human learning martial arts. we didn't even see him use qi. If you would take a look at the guy's neck before he got slammed down. it's turning purple, and he is also trembling. So, making a person tremble is a bit uncommon when raising up a person while choking them out.

Next is he is able to slap someone, and they are flying away, not on purpose but to the point of when they are in the ruins of a table and they are 7 feet away from jaha.

Next is his slaps.

We see him slap so many people in the face of the manwha If you do a re-read. But we see him literally create bruises and scars just by one slap in the face. like when dokgo tried to make jaha the new leader of the Black Sea wolves. it's only one slap, and then a tooth broke out of his mouth. You have to be so strong to be able to break off a tooth by one single slap in the face. I feel bad for dokgo.

Next is. I don't know what technique he used. But he literally slammed a head into the wall, and it explored to the point of when he's headless. This is when he got done fighting the old black sea wolves leader. According to my trusty Google. you have to have 1,000 pounds, 4,000 newtons of force, 200k g of force, and 500 pounds. Idk Google is trivial. But jaha did all of that in the span of a few seconds. I don't know if he used a technique or if he physically had to crush his head to make his blood spatter all over the walls. it makes me question how strong he was in his past life. Because you literally have to have the ability to bend steel in order to crush a head that much back in episode 32.

next is his qi power or his firepower in his techniques.

he destroyed the battle pavilion arena by his own fire, and it was spreading like a virus too much,

he shot out a technique to the cloudburst and elder dragon king army to pretty much the entirely. And then killed like 14 to 25 gaurds in that technique. he shoots out qi bombs to his opponents since he does steal qi from others. which boosts his qi a lot. He defeated a gun by his fire qi. damaging him a lot. He also defeated the black rabbit clan leader, slamming him into the wall, nearly detonated and burnt. so we can specifically say that his qi is also really powerful to go that large into murdering 14 to 25 people.

Next is his punches.

it's kinda normal to spill blood out of a punch. But jaha's punches hit different to a lot of people. he's able to crush rib cages and bones. By one punch, he is able to completely kill someone by his punches and able to punch someone to punch someone in a far range. He is able to make a person completely overwhelmed by getting punching by him, also stunning them. His punches can get someone killed. So he simply has brute strength in terms of punching and fighting without a sword.

Next is his reflexes.

Oh my...Ughh, he is able to dodge so many attacks and able to move so fast at dodging any attack his opponent makes. he uses his speed to move near superhuman speed. his attack speed is insane speed. when he was fighting sachong yu. he blocked all of his attacks when he was supposed to be fast at it with ease. he didn't receive any scars at any battle with those kinds of skills.

Next is his speed.

He mentioned that he was faster than all of the heavenly generals. He said he could practically fly. he is able to stun many gaurds by using his speed. he is able to jump from building to building. he must be like Sonic, the hedgehog.

and then the last topic is his insanity.

I guess his madness is actually a boost to his current power. He even had gaurds or fighters get pstd or truama by jaha's power. next is his battle iq.

He's able to analyze his opponent's battle movements in a second. Even if his opponent doesn't have any details shown in his fighting, then jaha would see it this instantly. he can copy his opponent's attacks.

So, in conclusion:

Jaha is still a human, but his strength and power are the pure opposite. So he's extremely powerful currently.

[simonsapelsin]

Hi hi! Me again! 🌼 I should have known of course.. i feel like that's the one everyone first recommends to new fans lol As they should, it's amazing. Well, here's some of my faves that pulled at my heartstrings..

What's in a name by Pat2526 https://archiveofourown.org/works/33568756

Summary: Wilhelm’s heard his name spoken in countless different ways. This one’s a little different.

Purple Love by nerdgirl07 💜 https://archiveofourown.org/works/33216001

Summary: And she does. This is the only person her father has ever loved. This is the man who her father associates with the colour purple. He's the reason her dad's bedroom walls have been violet longer than she's been alive, because when her father is surrounded by the colour he's surrounded by the memory of him.

With golden string, our universe was brought to life by @goldenwilmon - one of my favorite one shots!! ❤️https://archiveofourown.org/works/36388357

Summary: How a sunflower found his sunshine.

Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart aka sad fic by @notalotgoingonatthisinstant https://archiveofourown.org/works/37556635/chapters/93740293

Summary: Or that time that Simon gets a serious head injury and it might be the last straw for Wilhelm to gather the courage to blackmail his mother.

And this one oh man - i guess i'll just say heed the warnings because although it gutted me, it's beautifully well written, tragic and definitely one I'll always remember..

Was It Worth It by @hanna-kin https://archiveofourown.org/works/34995088

Summary: The whole nation witnesses the Crown Prince’s downfall. Or after their break up Simon watches Wille slowly wilter away

Oops, sorry this got long! I hope you find something you like. 🧡

Wow, thanks so much for these recs!! I have not read any of these! Looks like I will be coming back to this post when I feel like a good cry😭💜

What's in a Name by pat2526 1,294 words | Rated E

Purple Love by NerdGirl07 2,883 words | Rated G

with golden string, our universe was brought to life by @goldenwilmon 5,498 words | Rated E

Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart by @notalotgoingonatthisinstant 49,540 words | Rated M

Was it worth it? by @hanna-kin 8,479 words | Unrated (major character death warning)

Please send me asks with absolute favorite YR fic recs!

[preciousthingsareprecious]

With a Heart of Scars Chapter 11

Strolls in over a year late with Starbucks, new chapter anyone?

Links for those who are new, or need a refresher:

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | AO3

“You really had no idea I was back in town?” Tim asked again as he adjusted his grip on Dick’s wrist.

The two of them were in the middle of climbing the manor’s staircase to the second floor. It was Tim’s way of making sure he rested. Especially since his brother was apparently insistent on still working the case that had landed him under a building.

He’d thought he could leave Dick safely downstairs for a bit while he got situated back in the manor, the man was injured and had promised to rest, but apparently Dick had picked up more Batman habits from Bruce than he cared to admit to. It was baffling, especially since Tim knew for a fact everyone else in the family was hard at work investigating things in some way or another. So here they were with Tim in charge of getting Dick upstairs without tearing stitches, while Alfred was busy making sure the room was presentable, clean, and free of tripping hazards.

“Nope, I can show you my phone when we get upstairs. Last text from you was--” Dick winced as he put his leg down wrong.

Tim hefted him a little closer to his side.

“An update on just how tasty the food really is in Paris.” his brother finished, just as they reached the top.

“I know I sent you a message.” Tim said, his brows furrowing.

His brother waved him off, “It’s not a big deal either way, Timmy.”

Except it was. Dick had been in such straits Damian had needed to go save him. Damian who hadn’t been in the field yet. Damian who as far as Tim knew was still two seconds away from taking off someone’s head instead of knocking them out. Even if Dick promised the kid was leaps and bounds better than that now. Besides, Tim was Robin, he should have been there to back up Batman.

Even not considering the most recent disaster, Tim hadn’t been around nearly as much as he should, and it was showing. Dick was exhausted. One bad night didn’t create the deep purple bags under Dick’s eyes or the exhaustion lacing his voice.

Tim should have known. Should have been on the lookout for those tell tale signs. It didn’t matter who wore the cowl, Batman was going to keep secrets from his Robin. It was Robin’s duty to figure those out and keep him safe, yet Dick had pulled the wool over Tim’s eyes completely because he hadn’t been there. And of course he had, Tim was spending most of his time looking for a different Batman. When he wasn’t doing that, he was keeping himself busy with the Titans. Anything to be out of the house that just kept reminding him of the second dad he’d lost.

Alfred had left the door open for them, and was waiting inside when Tim helped Dick into the room. Together, he and Alfred got Dick in bed and settled in. As his brother leaned back against his pillows he sighed with relief.

“Perfect. Thanks guys.”

Alfred hummed and adjusted Dick’s blankets again, “Would you like some tea?”

Dick shot him a blinding grin, “Please.”

“You know he’s probably going to drug it right?” Tim joked after Alfred had left.

His brother snorted, “He only ever did that to B.”

Mostly when Bruce had been shutting everyone out and overworking himself. In fact, Tim remembered seeing Bruce looking an awful lot like Dick did now. His heart squeezed at the comparison, at the way he missed his dad, at what Dick seemed to be silently pushing himself through.

“Hmm.” Tim said, and pulled his phone from his pocket to check his text history with Dick. “Oh.” he blinked down at the phone.

“Oh?” Dick asked.

“I forgot to hit send.” Tim felt his face heat up.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a hand flash, and jerked his head up in surprise. It wasn’t a dismissal, but instead Dick was holding his arm out in invitation.

“Want to join me? I don’t really care to sit here alone all day.”

Tim rolled his eyes but smiled, “That’s the most obvious comfort attempt I’ve seen in a long time.”

“I don’t have to trick you into giving hugs.”

Something about that made Tim think not only of Damian, but of Jason too. He chuckled, and settled on the bed next to Dick, and leaned into his side.

“Glad I can be the agreeable brother.”

He received a tight hug for that as Dick tugged him closer to his side, before leaning over to press a kiss into his hair, “And I thank you so much for that.”

“Now, tell me all about your adventures. Any more leads on strange bat symbols?”

Tim entertained Dick until Cass came in to take over for him, and he headed downstairs for a late lunch. He found Damian in the kitchen, picking his way through a bowl of salad. Tim stood for a moment and watched the kid spear a couple cherry tomatoes with his fork and then stare at them for a few seconds before popping them in his mouth.

“Hey.” Tim said, not wanting to make him think he was spying.

Damian looked up at him and scowled. No surprise there. They weren’t close, but Tim had thought Damian had cooled towards him lately. He’d even apologized for challenging Tim to a duel when he’d first arrived. The apology had been stiff, and most likely initiated by Dick, but honestly the fact that he’d done it at all had been progress.

“Dick’s in his room now.” Tim said, trying to find some common ground as he ducked into the fridge.

Bless Alfred and his legendary meal prepping skills. Neat little tupperware lined the fridge, pre portioned meals that were filling and basic enough to meet any of their pallets for a quick meal. He snagged one at random, lifted one corner of the lid and popped it into the microwave.

“Are you sticking around?” Damian demanded.

“What?” Tim turned to blink at Damian surprised.

The boy crossed his arms, salad forgotten. He looked fierce, not angry, but protective?

“Are you finally going to take your duties as Robin seriously, and watch Grayson’s back?”

Oh. That made sense. Dick had gone on about Damian with such affection earlier it had made Tim a bit jealous, and now he saw that the feelings were mutual. Gone was the Damian who had no time for anyone, now replaced with a tiny protective pit bull of a kid who had latched onto his oldest brother.

Tim frowned, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there last night, I feel terrible.”

Damian opened his mouth to berate him, but Tim held up a hand, “Let me finish. I’m not trying to make an excuse, just explain. If he wants me to stay, I’m staying. I shouldn’t have spent so much time away.”

His heart was torn even saying that. Tim loved Dick. He loved his brother desperately, but he also loved Bruce, and he couldn’t picture up and abandoning his quest. Except he couldn’t be in two places at once, and he just---he didn’t know what to do.

“Good.” Damian gave a sharp nod, “He needs a partner, and if you were not up to the task I was going to insist on taking up your slack.”

“Oh really? And has Dick okayed you for field work yet?”

Damian’s scowl returned, “He will have to eventually. His lessons are growing repetitive with nothing new to test me against.”

Tim doubted that, but did agree that eventually Damian was going to have to go out on patrol. It’s all he wanted, and even with him apparently gaining new interests since Tim had been gone, his goal was still to join Batman on patrol.

The microwave beeped. Tim turned his attention to his food. He opened the door, tugged his sleeves over his hands, and pulled out the tupperware. Quickly, he took it over to the bar and set it down before he returned to the microwave to close it and find a fork.

When he sat down again, Damian had returned to picking tomatoes out of his salad.

“You know, even if I join Dick, I think he’d appreciate having more than one partner. He’s used to working with a team.”

“Like you are?” Damian asked, not looking up, “Grayson tells me you have been splitting your time between the Teen Titans and searching for Father.”

Tim hummed, and gently lifted the lid off the food, letting the steam escape slowly. Inside the tupperware was a mix of rice, diced chicken, and an assortment of vegetables. A warm, spiced, scent came up from the container that made Tim’s mouth water.

“I have.” he nodded, “Most of my time’s been spent looking for Bruce though.”

He gave the food a good stir with his fork, and glanced up at Damian, “Your Grandpa’s even tried to help.”

Damian snorted, “I doubt what Grandfather has been doing is helpful.”

A chuckle escaped Tim’s chest, and he let it turn into a full laugh, “Yeah, he’s the worst.”

Damian gave him a half smile at that and hummed. He turned back down to the salad, now stabbing at cucumber slices, “Do you have any solid leads on Father?”

“Some.” Tim said, “Jay’s been helping too, hunting down locations from here in his spare time. So far it’s been a lot of nothing, but I’m sure we’ll find solid evidence soon.”

“And if you do?” Damian asked.

Tim shrugged, “Use it to start triangulating a location. My running theory is that Bruce is stuck somewhere in time, though there's also the possibility he could be in an alternate universe shifted slightly from our own.”

Damian didn’t ask about Tim’s plans if he didn’t find evidence. Instead he nodded, and stirred his salad, accidentally sending a slice of red onion sliding out of the bowl. He glared at it, before lifting it and dropping it in his mouth. It was actually really cute.

They spent the rest of their meal in comfortable silence. Tim devouring his rice bowl, while Damian continued to pick his salad apart, ingredient by ingredient. Tim remembered Bruce doing that sometimes if he was working out a puzzle. Normally it had nothing to do with a case, but instead was work or relationship related. One time it was over something Dick had snapped at him before storming out. It had taken him the whole meal to sort out Dick was mad that he’d forgotten about a lunch they’d had planned. He wondered what Damian was trying to puzzle out.

He didn’t get another chance to hang out with Dick alone until the next evening. Everyone else had insisted on crowding him to make sure he rested and didn’t do too much. Jason spent time reading silently close by while Cass played games with him on his DS. Tim would watch movies with him while Damian sat with a sketchbook perched on his knees, sitting in the bed just far enough away from Dick that no one would suspect him of trying to be comforting --his little ruse fooling no one.

Dick at last managed to convince Alfred to let him out of bed and move down into Bruce’s office to get some WE work done if he promised to have someone with him. Tim volunteered, eager for some quiet time with his oldest sibling.

They sat together for a while in comfortable silence. Tim worked on some of his own long overdue WE projects, and then wrangled some away from Dick to devote a fresh set of eyes to.

It was nice, just sitting there and working. Tim was settled by the book shelves, a laptop perched on his lap, and Dick was seated at the desk proper, with one of his legs propped up on a stool. Tim had been so busy, so in a rush to go off and do things, he’d missed the quiet. It was odd, thinking of Dick as quiet, and another marked change from the last time they’d sat in this office working together. Dick hadn’t interrupted him for anything but work in almost an hour. He’d settled in, brow furrowed, and just...worked.

Tim didn’t think he liked it.

As little as he wanted to admit it, Tim had begun to realize Dick needed more backup here, and he wasn’t sure he was the one to give it.

They worked for a while longer, Tim’s discomfort growing with each minute that ticked by until he cleared his throat to get Dick’s attention.

“Hm?” his brother glanced up from his computer.

“Can we talk?” Tim asked.

Dick really looked at him this time, studying his face for a few seconds before nodding. Tim dragged his chair over to the desk so Dick didn’t have to get up, and then sat down unsure of what to say, or how to bring up what he wanted to talk about.

For his part, Dick looked nervous too. He was leaning forward in his chair, his good leg raised up to rest on the edge of the seat. One of his hands fiddled with the corner of a notebook, lifting the pages and letting them slide down his thumb making a thwiping noise.

He tapped a finger on the arm of his chair, “I’m sorry.” he said at last, then before Dick could respond charged ahead, “I know I apologized already and we had a whole talk, but I’m talking about more than just the other night.”

“Tim, we talked about that too. I’m happy you’re out looking for Bruce, and being with your friends. I know how much they benefit from having you there.”

“Yes, but I’ve left you without a proper partner.” Tim said, “And it’s obvious you need one.”

Dick scoffed, “You too? Damian told me the same.”

“He’s right. And actually, that’s the other thing.”

This was what he’d been fighting with himself about. Handing over his partnership with Dick to someone else. He could say Damian could pick any name but Robin, but Batman needed a Robin. Tim knew that better than anyone. Gotham needed to see Robin out there as much as they needed Batman.

Tim could pretend that things wouldn’t be any different when he got done with his quest (however that ended), he could pretend he’d be able to slip right back into being Batman’s partner the same way he’d been prior to all this, but that was a lie. Even now he and Dick were more comrades than hero and sidekick, and that gulf would only grow if Dick and Damian started patrolling together. The two were already practically joined at the hip.

“I think you should make Damian Robin.” he said.

He found that it wasn’t as upsetting as he’d thought it would be, to imagine a different Robin. To picture the little gremlin in that role. To just, hand it over like that.

Dick visibly relaxed, his hand flattened on the book, “Really?”

Tim shrugged, “I’ve been thinking about it. More than just being here. I told Damian that I’d stay and be your partner if you wanted. But I honestly think he’d be better taking over, he can be here all the time, and doesn’t have a team or the distractions I do.”

“I’d been thinking about it too.” Dick sounded almost guilty, and he slid the book over, flipping it to a page with a corner folded down.

A few sketches filled the page. There was a full sketch of a new Robin uniform, with pieces doodled around it, a hooded cape, and combat boots instead of Tim’s old style.

The irritation Tim thought he wasn’t going to feel suddenly rose up. Dick had wanted to replace him? He’d told Tim that he wasn’t going to give Robin to Damian, that they’d pick something else.

Dick seemed to read the change in his mood, “I wasn’t going to give it to him until I’d asked you.” he reached out and put a hand on Tim’s, “I wouldn’t take Robin from you, even if I did think you were ready to spread your own wings.”

He flipped the pages back, showing Tim other uniform designs, one with a motorcycle helmet type mask and a fathered cape called Red Bird, another that looked a lot like a Nightwing uniform but with more armor and a scalloped cape. Tim’s irritation settled a bit at that.

“But you did consider Robin too.”

His brother shrugged, and looked a little chagrined, “You can’t really get mad at me for imagining it. You were never going to stay Robin forever.”

Tim sighed, “Yeah. I just, I don’t know. It’s dumb, I shouldn’t be upset when I said the same thing just a minute ago.”

“So, you’re still okay with it?” Dick asked.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” Tim nodded, “It’ll be good for the Gremlin. He’s already grown leaps and bounds just training with you.”

Dick smiled, “Thank you, Tim. You know I've still got your back no matter what right? Whatever name you pick or outfit, and hey!” the smile turned into a full grin, “I can even help you pick out a new uniform. Maybe break out the old disco wing outfit?”

Tim pulled a face, “No way, Damian might have to suffer through your fashion decisions, but I’ll make my own. Besides, I’ve already picked out a new name and outfit.”

“Oh?” Dick’s eyes lit up, “Do tell.”

So Tim did. He pushed his brother over and pulled up his directory on their shared drive to show him some rendered images. He’d been excited to finalize the idea, and he was even more excited to share it with Dick.

They spent the rest of the evening looking over Red Robin images, with Tim defending the name choice to his brother.

[thebigshotman]

*…WELL. I SUPPOSE THAT IS ALL OF THE TIME WE HAVE TO INTERACT WITH THE PAST FOR THE TIME BEING. I AM SURE MORE OPPORTUNITIES TO DO SO WILL PRESENT THEMSELVES…HOWEVER, MY HOLD ON THE RIFF GROWS THIN.

*I TRUST ALL OF YOU HAVE SAID EVERYTHING THAT YOU WANTED TO HIM…AND SEEN HOW BETTER OFF HE WAS BACK THEN, TOO. YOUR ATTACHMENT AS AN AUDIENCE TO A BROKEN PUPPET FASCINATES ME. TRULY.

*BUT NEVER MIND THAT FOR NOW. IN THE MEANTIME, I SHALL TAKE MY LEAVE BACK TO…ELSEWHERE, SHALL WE SAY. WE WILL MEET AGAIN SOON. FAREWELL FOR NOW.

The connection to the past is severed, the image of a rattled but still somewhat confident Spamton fading from view in a glitching swirl of purple, pink, and yellow. Through it all, distorted fragments of time stick out audibly as you are gradually returned to the present.

*Thank you!! Thank you, everyone…I’m thrilled to have been rated the number one salesman this past year!! I’d like to thank…thank…

*W-What? Don’t get cocky?? Mike, I think I can afford to be a little cocky right now-

*…Huh? Arguing with someone on the p-phone? T-Trust me, you were mishearing things! Everything’s [[100% certified]]…I-I mean, fine…what the hell was that?

*…Please. I don’t know if you can [[F1]]-Help, me, but…a Lightner made you, right? I don’t know what else to do…

*You “understand what I’m going through”?! No you don’t, ‘Delia!! Your success has never been hung on teeny tiny little [[$5.99 door hinges]] that could fall apart at any moment!! …Please, leave me alone for now. I just need to call him back…

*…Huh? What’s this little thing doing in here? Looks like…some kind of jewel…

*Mike. I know you’re there. I saw something. I saw Heaven. How do I get there?! How do I get back everything and keep my-

*WHAT [[store-wide savings are happening now!]] T0 M3?!?

*H-EY HEY, SWA[[Easels]]…IT’S…ME!! YOUR [friend request-] FRIEND, SPAMTON!! LISTEN-

*SWATCH, [[don’t leave me here!]]!!! MANAGER, QUEEN, [anyone…]!!! I’m burning!! Don’t let me—

*HA…HA…HAEAHEAHEAHEHAEHAEHAE!!! 1’LL GET THERE ONE DAY!!! I’LL G3T THAT [workout ready body] AND GET TO [Heaven] 4ND THEY’LL ALL [[you’ll be sorry~]]!!! TH3Y’LL SEE I’M ST1LL A [[BIG SHOT]]!!!! JU$T U WAIT…

There’s another manic, sped up cackle, much more like the ones you’re accustomed to, before everything goes silent and dark. And then…

The roof’s finally finished loading, separating himself from that always dark sky he hates so much. Although, lately it’s seemed just a little less oppressive. All that’s left is for the rest of the store in fix itself. Considering ruined shelves are still clipping against the ground like that were just destroyed, that could take a while…

*…[Hazelnut] HASN’T [stop on by!] T0DAY…SHE 4LWAYS DOES ON HER WAY [[homes outside the city]]…

Despite that disquieting thought, Spamton G. Spamton-occasionally known as “Spaul”-doesn’t move from the spot behind his desk. He’s back to being the broken, plastic puppet that’s familiar to you, with a glitchy voice that’s unable to properly form coherent sentences. His wide smile seems a little strained, though, and his glasses have a certain glimmer to them. He’s not moving-because what would it look like if he showed up to her job unexpectedly?-but is absolutely concerned for her.

That’s when a headache inducing pulse of garbage noise, static, and memories pangs through his head suddenly, making him throttle backwards with an uncomfortable glitch and onto the floor as a result. Knocking his systems offline as they process whatever just happened for just long enough for a certain someone to speak through him.

*…Is anyone listening? If you can hear me, please, help-

The static is forcefully booted out of his systems, and he jolts upright while rubbing his head. Everything’s fine-well, relatively, anyway-but there’s something just a little different. In his head, in his memories. A certain section of the garbage and out of tune nonsense has cleared, and it’s as if a few cherry picked moments from his past, from his height as a big shot, happened only a day ago…

He weakly turns to the audience, squinted marbles appearing in his glasses as he points at them.

*…WH4T DID YOU [[chaos enjoyers]] 0F AN [studio audience] DO TH1S TIME…??

[echotrinityme]

Choose Me, Henry Chapter 25: Final Confrontation

Warning: Does anyone need an arm and a leg?

"And you are?" Rupert drawled, still glaring at the Toppat who dared to point a pike at him.

The toppat wore a black and purple suit that suited her hair and eyes. Her hair was long and her color was the same as Rupert's. Her eyes were the color of amethyst but her eyes held evil mirth at Rupert.

"The name's Carol Cross." Carol sneered, "And you didn't answer my statement about Henry."

"What statement?" Rupert asked, playing dumb.

"You must be his boy toy," Carol repeated.

"No. I'm not his boy toy," Rupert responded, "I'm his lover."

Carol chuckled darkly, "Really? You? You're the guy that Henry dumped Burt for?"

Rupert growled, "Yeah and your point?" he said angrily.

Carol pointed her pike dangerously close to his neck, "My point is that Burt is now in jail because of you and Henry!" she responded in a shrill tone.

"It's not my fault he called Henry a slut." Rupert said under his breath.

Before Carol could retort, Rupert kicked the pike away. Carol cried out in surprise, Rupert kicked her in the stomach. She fell with an oof as Rupert went to go grab her pike, Carol quickly recovered and got out her gun. She aimed her gun at Rupert and pull the trigger. Luckily, Rupert hid behind a cabinet. Rupert got out his gun and look over to locate Carol, he saw her looking over at him. He pull the trigger and bullets shot toward Carol but she dodged them. Carol came out of her hiding place, she was holding her gun.

"Come out, you hedgehog," Carol jeered, "You can't hide forever."

Rupert knew she was right.

Rupert was coming up with a plan, he needs to take her out as soon as possible so he can find Henry, he jumped when he heard more gunshots. Rupert ran out of his hiding place as Carol kept shooting at him, but he dodged them. Carol was getting more frustrated, she dropped the gun and took out a rifle. Rupert saw this, and he reacted quickly. He sprinted toward her and knocked the rifle out of her hand, she cried out in surprise and kicked her away. Rupert grabbed the rifle as Carol got out a sword, "How many weapons does she have!?" he thought as he saw Carol running towards him.

Rupert used the rifle to block her sword, and Carol swung her sword at him despite Rupert blocking her attacks. Rupert knocked her sword out of her hand and was about to grab her wrist but she took out her pocket knife, and slash his face. She aimed at his eye and there was now a large gash over his eye, Rupert cried out in pain as he put a hand on his wounded eye.

"Awww, what's the matter, porcupine?" Carol taunted with an evil grin as she saw Rupert was bleeding, "Can't handle the pain?"

Rupert was trembling as rage took over. With inhuman speed, he grabbed her knife and pushed her against a wall. She hit her head on the concrete, and she cried out in pain, and Rupert grabbed the sword she dropped. Without thinking, he stabbed her in the stomach. Carol's eyes widen as her clothes turn crimson and her mouth spat out blood. Rupert plunged the sword deeper into her stomach, making her spit out more blood.

Rupert glared at her as Carol smiled, her mouth covered with the red substance, "G-Good j-job, porcupine," she said as her eyes were losing life in them, "I-I c-can see why Henry l-ikes you so much.

"Go to hell," Rupert said in annoyance. Carol spat blood on his face as she began to lose consciousness, she close her eyes and moved no more. She was dead.

Rupert panted as he let go of his sword, he stared at the body apathetically. After staring at the corpse for a few seconds, he grabbed his gun and went to go find Henry.

He wonders how long till the mission is complete, he still couldn't find Henry and it was bothering him. He stumbled upon a huge room that looked like a meeting room, there was a large table with chairs. He started to search the room when he heard a gun cocking behind him, "Bloody hell," he muttered as he turn around to find Sven aiming his gun at him.

"I'm getting real tired of the Government ruining my plans," Sven said coldly.

"And I'm getting real tired of Toppat scum pointing weapons at my face." Rupert shot back.

"Oh, blah blah blah your needs," Sven responded with a twitch. Rupert noticed this, and he raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Where's Henry?" Sven demanded angrily.

"I don't know," Rupert replied truthfully.

"You must know where is he, you and him are always together!" Sven exclaimed.

"Yeah, and your point?" Rupert drawled, getting irritated by Sven by the second.

"My point is that he was horrible as a leader and horrible for joining the Government and now, he's dating one of the captains," Sven said tiredly. "I mean who does that!? Does he have any standards? Of all people, why does he give to ruin what I was trying to be."

Sven was ranting at this point and while he was ranting, Rupert was zoning out. He doesn't mean to but he tends to zone out when people keep on talking and never shut up. Also, Sven's ranting reminds him of Charles's ranting. They will probably make very good buddies despite the fact they are on both different sides.

"Do you know how much paperwork I had to do to get myself this position?" Sven kept ranting as if Rupert was still listening to him, "What has Henry even done to get the position as Toppat leader!? He defeated Reginald and Reginald gave him the position!"

Rupert's eyebrow twitched as he heard Sven rant as his opinions mattered, then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a glint. His instinct told him who it was, and Henry came into the room quietly. Sven kept talking but stopped to breathe, that's when he noticed Henry. His smile transformed into a wicked one, "Why hello there, Henry Stickmin!" he said in a manic tone.

"Wow, his demeanor changed upon seeing Henry," Rupert thought, but he was glad Henry was here.

"Hello, Sven," Henry responded lowly, "You look tired and dead inside as always."

Rupert snorted as Sven was now seething, "Well..." Sven said as he looked over at Rupert, he pointed at him, "What about him? He also looks tired and dead inside."

Rupert was about to retort but Henry beat him to it, "Hmm, with Rupert is different," Henry stated.

"How?" Sven asked lowly.

"Rupert's dead tired look is sexier than yours," Henry said in a smug tone, he gave Rupert a flirtatious wink. Rupert's face became like a tomato, and he turned away from Henry. Sven saw this and made a disgusted face, "Disgusting," he thought.  

He never like people flirting in front of him, he didn't like it when Burt and Henry did it in front of him, and he certainly doesn't like it now. "Okay, I had enough of this!" Sven snapped, making Rupert and Henry jump from his tone.

Sven was about to pull the trigger but was stopped when Rupert tackle him, he cried out as his gun flew out of his hand. They wrestle for a bit while Henry got the gun and threw across the room. He glanced over at Rupert who was now pinning him down with his boot, Henry was about to go over to him when Sven unexpectedly got out a sword. Before Rupert could think up a way to get the sword away from him, Sven swung his sword toward him.

SLASH!

"AAAAAAGH!"

Rupert screamed as his leg that was holding Sven was slashed, he felt excruciating pain as Sven kicked in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the floor and landed on his back, Sven stood up with a crazed smile on his face. Henry stood there frozen, in shock at what he just saw. His mind was telling him to go stop Sven but his body wouldn't move, he never expected Sven to do that. Of course... Sven had been losing his mind with time.

"HAHAHAHA!" Sven laughed insanely, "Look at you! So pathetic..."

Rupert was gritting his teeth in pain as he looked up at Sven, he felt a prick near his neck, and he stared up at Sven. "Awwww, what's the matter hedgehog?" he taunted with a shrill tone, "Can't handle your leg being cut off? Poor baby..." Sven stared at Rupert for a moment, his face fell. But his face twisted into the same crazed smile, "Now how would feel if you didn't have both of your arms?" he asked coldly as he raised his arm.

Rupert's open eyes widen when he saw what Sven was about to do, "N-no... please no," Rupert pleaded with his arm out but Sven ignored his plea. He swung his sword down at Rupert's arm, "AAAAAAGH!" Rupert cried out in pain as his arm was now cut off.

Rupert was panting as he saw his dismembered arm and leg strewn on the floor, he felt his heartbeat go faster as his adrenaline took over. He started to panic as Sven pinned his chest with his foot, "Oh you like you're in pain," Sven cooed, "Why don't you let me put you out of your misery?"

Sven lifted his sword to deliver the final blow, and Rupert closed his eyes to wait for his fate. But before Sven could deliver the final blow, he felt a stabbing pain. Sven's eyes widen as he tasted blood in his mouth, he felt a burning pain as he looked down. He gasped softly as there was a huge metal stocking out of him and his blue suit was now covered with blood. Rupert open his eyes as he didn't feel death, he look up to see Sven was stabbed. His eyes widen and peeked to see who stabbed him.

Rupert saw Henry behind Sven with a cold expression on his face, Henry was the one who stabbed him. Sven spat out blood and look behind him, his eyes widen when he saw Henry. "Bye Bye, Svensson," Henry stated in a cold tone.

Henry stabbed him with a sword and went deeper, Sven spat out more blood. Henry pulled out his sword and grabbed Sven by his bloody suit. He threw Sven across the room like a rag doll, Sven coughed up blood one last time then he died. Henry went over to Sven's corpse and ripped pieces of his cape, he quickly went over to Rupert who was losing consciousness. He dressed the wounds and he picked Rupert up gently. Rupert was silently sobbing as clutched Henry's black shirt, he was bleeding and in pain.

Henry started to head out of the room when he heard Dave telling him in his earpiece that the remaining Toppat clan members have been captured, Henry then told Dave that Sven was killed. Henry was at the entrance of the room and was about to leave, but glanced at Sven's body one last time.

He trembled as he heard Rupert whimper in pain, then he left the room.

"Go rot in Hell where you belong," Henry said coldly as headed towards Dave's location.

A/N: I told you there will be blood! Btw, I started the spring semester of college and updates will be slow again but there is one more chapter and epilogue to this story.

[passerine-writes]

Silent Sparks - Volt 6

Warnings: More mentions of child neglect and muzzling :( Word count: 2532

Notes: Italics - Tsukare signing (this chapter it's Mic signing in the beginning) Bold italics - Family member/friend signing 'Italics with apostrophes' - Thoughts

Masterlist

Volt 5 | Volt 7

After six months, Tsukare deemed Yamada 'Pops' and Aizawa 'Dad'. They were both huge milestones for the parents. The second one was seeing him off for his first day of his fifth year of elementary school. If Yamada cried then he wouldn't admit it, he was proud. He was so proud and happy with his small family.

The next step they finally took at their sons pace, was therapy. Once a week after school, he's scheduled for psychiatry with Recovery Girl. Even though she isn't the guidance counselor, Tsukare voiced that Hound Dog's sheer size initially startled him. Plus, he bonded with the tiny, sweet, old nurse and nobody wanted to take that away.

Shortly after, he started training his quirk with his dad's, finally feeling a little more comfortable to try and do so. They watched as he grew and excelled, starting to thrive in his home.

Then they met Shinsou Hitoshi. A small, purple haired kid with matching eyes who looked exhausted. Yamada was the one to find a child during patrol this time, noting how the child resembled his husband to a large degree, and now realizing a common theme. His booming heart stuttered and fell quiet when he noticed peculiar bruising on his face, much like he got as a child.

"Hey little listener, you okay?" Shinsou ducked his head down and kept walking, quicker this time, so Mic decided to take a shot in the dark as he ran in front of him.

Do you know sign?

The boys eyes widened in shock, not expecting a pro hero of all people to be able to sign. He simply nodded, still processing this fact.

Are you okay? You're a little bruised up, can I take you home?

With a pregnant pause, Yamada knew what the answer was going to be.

You don't have anywhere to go, do you?

The boy shook his head and went to side step, but the hero was faster.

What's your name?

My name is Shinsou Hitoshi.

Where are you staying right now?

Doesn't matter.

Did you runaway?

No, and it doesn't matter.

Why do you say that?

Because nobody wants a kid with a villains quirk, so can I go now?

Can you show me where you're staying so I know you're safe?

Will you leave me be if I do?

Maybe.

Fine, let's go then.

Taking it as a victory, Mic happily followed Shinsou a few blocks down.

Happy?

Mic was not happy. It was still getting cold out, the morning frosts still sticking and the cold nights barely starting to fade. And here this boy was, sleeping in a box with about five blankets in an alleyways back corner.

What happened to your family?

They threw me out, okay? Nobody wants a kid with a villain quirk. They weren't even my real parents. They were my sixth set of foster parents.

This kid was starting to remind him a lot of his husband now.

I'm a foster parent, my husband and I are, we're getting ready to legally adopt our current foster son. Would you at least like to stay the night? It's supposed to get really cold. Plus we have cats.

Fine. But only because you have cats.

Yep, definitely a carbon copy of his husband. Yet Tsukare was bordering on a carbon copy of himself so he couldn't say much.

Okay. I'm going to run home, talk to my husband and our son and make sure they're comfortable. Then I'll be back but I don't think they'll have any issues. Just hang tight.

With a singular nod, Hizashi speed walked back to his home and called his husband in the process.

"'Zashi is everything okay? You never call me on patrol."

"Sho, do you remember what you asked me six and a half months ago when you called me randomly on a night patrol?" His husband already knew where this was going, that was the last time he ever called his husband on patrol.

"Of course I do."

"I'm asking you the same thing right now, would you be okay if I brought a kid home? He's a tiny you Shouta!" Aizawa glanced over his shoulder to look at his son doing his homework in the kitchen. "Shouta, I have the same feeling in my gut that we did with Onryo. He feels like he should be our kid, too." The dark haired man let out a breath through his nose, more concerned with how their son might handle this adjustment. He finally started letting himself talk more freely and has finally started raising his hand in class.

"We have to go over it with Onryo first."

"I know! That's why I'm swinging home now and potentially going back to get him! I'm about to walk through the door!" Maybe he was jogging more then he was walking.

"Hi Pops!" The blond smiled and ruffled his sons wild hair, until his look turned confused. "You're home early from patrol, are you okay?"

"I'm okay, little listener. We actually wanted to talk to you about something real quick." Onryo hesitantly nodded, trying to think of what he possibly could have done wrong to warrant a serious conversation but he couldn't think of anything. His room was clean like normal, he has good grades and is actively doing his homework. "You didn't do anything wrong, just wanted to run something by you. Alright?" The child looked more relaxed and followed his dad's over to the couch. "I met a kid on patrol today, and when I met him I got that same feeling in my gut that Sho and I have about you, like he should be apart of our family. I was hoping he could stay the night, if that's alright with you." He nodded and got a sad look in his eye but did his best to mask it. "What's going through your brain, kiddo?"

"Am I.. going back?" The two looked concerned at how wrongly he interpreted that.

"No, not at all. Onryo, your Pops and I love you, you're our son. We aren't replacing or getting rid of you. Not now and not ever." A weight had been taken off of the almost nine year olds shoulders, the small bit of reassurance doing wonders.

"Then, I'm okay with having a brother. It just might take some time to get used to." They were both immensely proud of their son, knowing how much he despised change yet he was open for this one.

"Okay, I love you both, I have to go grab the kid! I'll be back! Shouta make sure we have ice cream!" The last sentence struck a chord of concern in the two left home, watching as the loud blond ran off.

"Do you think.."

"I hope not. But we'll see when they get here." However, they both silently knew why Mic would request ice cream for the kid.

"Alright! I'm back! You ready to rock 'n' roll?" The purple haired boy looked at the pro hero in shock. He actually came back. Shinsou started packing his things, surprising Mic with his many hidden places in the alleyway. "Alright, let's head out. Ice cream's waiting for you, it helps with your tongue after they put it on you." Shinsou's head shot towards the blond, shocked that he knew what the bruises were from but had also experienced it.

It was a silent walk, which Shinsou was more then happy with. When they walked in, Shinsou awkwardly stood to the side instead of stepping forward further.

"Alright, this is Shinsou Hitoshi, he's staying the night with us. Shinsou, this is our son, Tsukare Onryo. And this is my husband, Aizawa Shouta. And we all know sign language here so you can talk however you feel comfortable." The sleep deprived kid stood in shock again, not expecting to see one of his all time favorite pro heroes sitting in the kitchen.

You're Eraserhead.

"You actually know who I am?" Shinsou nodded quickly, still taking in everything. He took note of a boy, a smidge shorter than himself, sitting next to his dad, his leg bouncing rapidly as his fingers fiddled with a fidget. "That's a first." A small, anxiously waved hand caught his attention.

I think Pops already told you, but we have ice cream. It actually helps a lot more then you'd think. Tsukare signed hesitantly.

His thin eyebrows furrowed, confused as to how a second person in the house and a kid at that, also understood. Slowly, he sat on the stool, setting his bags at his feet protectively.

"Okay, so we wanted to go over something with you Shinsou. We only really have one rule of the house and that's honesty. Just be honest with us, and if you don't want to talk about something then tell us that and we'll save it for a later time. Onryo only has one rule for his room." The purple haired boy turned to topaz haired kid curiously.

I have some special things on my nightstand, please don't touch them. They're really important to me and I don't even let Dad and Pops touch them.

Odd request for Shinsou to hear but he shrugged it off and nodded. Yet he couldn't help that confused feeling. All of his other houses had so many rules and chores and punishments.

Anything else I should know?

"We're thinking about fostering you as well, however it's also a decision for you to make. If you don't want to stay here, then we won't force a foster home for you, all we want is for you to be safe as well. In the chance we do foster you, then the rules go up by one. Just keep your room clean, we already told Onryo but as you two get older then more responsibilities come, like doing your own laundry or loading the dishwasher." Shinsou sent Aizawa a crazed look, perplexed that those were the only rules. "Do you have any questions for us?"

And so the standard questions and curiosities ensued, most of them the same or similar to Tsukare's on his first night, except the eight year old wasn't expecting to get questions too.

So why don't you talk?

I don't want to accidentally use my quirk on you. Still working on controlling it. Why don't you talk?

Same reason I guess. I got a villains quirk so I try not to.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your quirk?" Shinsou took his last bite of ice cream, spinning the spoon in his mouth to bide time from his role models question.

Brainwashing. If someone answers me, I can control them.

"Shinsou, no quirk is naturally villainous. It depends on how a person uses it that makes it that way. Mine was and could still be interpreted that way with that logic, but I realized that in high school." Shinsou stared at him with wide eyes, not expecting that from his favorite hero. "It takes some time to digest and really understand, but I promise you that it's not a villainous quirk." All the purple haired boy could do was nod before turning back to the smaller kid.

So what's your quirk?

I call it sound wave, I can control how loud a person hears me if I look at them while I talk. It won't affect anyone I'm not looking at, so if I used it on you, it could burst your eardrums but to Dad and Pops, it would just sound like I'm talking normally.

Neat, so it's Mic's quirk but on a select scale.

Tsukare nodded, attacking his fidget cube more intently.

I have a question for all of you. You both made the ice cream comment, and said it helps with it. Did someone put those things on you two?

Mic looked at his son for permission, accepting the nod before speaking. He didn't want to say too much and make him uncomfortable.

"We both grew up in foster care, we actually grew up in the same center. They'd put the muzzles on us if we 'stepped out of line' with our quirks." Shinsou nodded slowly, reevaluating his outlook on life silently. Truly he was worried about the small kid next to him, his eyes bounced from every object and back, his hands and leg unrelenting and he looked nervous almost.

"Sunshine?" The blond hummed as he looked at his husband who nodded his head towards their son. His eyes widened as he realized he forgot to give their son his meds this morning since they were running late for school.

"Little listener?" He looked at his Pops with wide eyes, confused at the querying tone. "Did you visit Miss Hina today?" Tsukare became lost in thought, an answer enough for his dads. "Alright, better late then never. Get over here you little rascal." He ruffled his sons hair, pleased that he at least laughed before he got down.

Shinsou watched confused as Aizawa grabbed a glass of water and three pill bottles from the top cabinet. All different sizes and colors. His confusion growing more as he watched this kid down them all at once.

"If you want to ask him you can. There's no harm in asking questions." He looked at Mic with wide eyes before turning back towards Tsukare.

What were all those for?

Tsukare looked at his dad cautiously, not knowing if it was okay to tell people. He had never been asked that before, so it was new ground for him.

"You can tell who you want to, it's up to you." He nodded shakily, thinking things through in his head before signing.

Ones a magnesium supplement to help with anxiety, the other one is actually for anxiety and the other one is for ADHD.

How old are you?

I'm eight. How old are you?

Eight. I turn nine this summer.

I turn nine in October.

Did you learn how to sign because of your quirk?

Kind of. What about you?

Pretty much, yeah.

Do you like cats?

I love cats.

Who's your favorite hero?

Your dad.

Really?

Yeah. He's why I want to be an underground hero. He fights quirkless pretty much and doesn't get a lot of attention while fighting villains. Plus he has a mental quirk.

I want to be a hero because of Pops! We both have sound quirks and he was always my favorite. A lot of people like All Might but I don't care for him all too much.

All Might's weird. He's loud and in the spotlight too much for my taste.

Do you want to go meet the cats and see the house?

Sure.

The two got up quickly, the parents worries completely washed away for now. Aizawa couldn't stop the smirk on his face, he knew exactly what his husband meant now. The two of them just felt like they were made to be brothers and their children.

[denim-devil]

Mess

Adrian Chase x Male reader — You allow Adrian to make a mess of you — NSFW — 730 (words)

“Please, look I know that- I’m just so hard for you…it fucking hurts”

That’s how it started.

Adrian wasn’t use to such close contact, which is why he ached for it, but when it did happen he couldn’t help but observe you. Adrian watched you, eyes physically blackened by the newly found lust running through his veins, much like adrenaline, it had taken over his body.

His wondering hands found themselves up on your head, slightly stroking your scalp in hopes of showing you how good you were, how good you were doing.

Your cheeks hollowed which had your throat acting like a some sort of suction cup, milking him dry of everything and anything, you were hungry for him.

Adrian had no clue how he fit inside of your mouth, how far you could possibly go, but maybe that was your mystery, although you were deeply in love, Adrian still hasn’t figured you out, not entirely anyway.

Once your eyes met, those thoughts were distant, he couldn’t think or even breathe, it was impossible with the pleasure rising upwards, travelling across his body, hitting every nerve.

He couldn’t look away, not when you stilled, lips stretched around the base of his cock, nose pressed softly into the neatly trimmed hairs surrounding him, Adrian couldn’t help but hold you there with both of his hands, watching your cheeks turn a shade of deep crimson.

“Holy shit- lo-look at you, your mouth, feels g-good”

Adrian couldn’t help but admire you, the truth that laced his words was enough, enough to know you were doing a good job, you always want Adrian to feel good.

You could feel every vein that scored his dick, every divot and ridge. It felt good, it felt heavy on your tongue, in your mouth, even Adrian was beginning to wonder how it all really worked.

“S-So like, you know how my dick is…” he scratches the back of his head, moving some of curls around whilst you nod around him, a soft muffled chuckle vibrating around his cock…he sighed.

His head fell backwards…shit.

Your throat wrapped around the tip of his cock, spit covering your chin and your upper lip, you looked like a mess and it drove him insane, you were just so willing.

“Holy shitballs, fuck- your so p-perfect, thank you, thank you”

His words echoed throughout your head, your cock aching between your legs, begging for release, all because of his words.

He watched you with that damn toothy smirk, you could his strong grip tighten in your hair, forcing you to impossibly take more, to take your fill, he wanted you full, stuffed, he wanted you to taste him.

Your scull felt vulnerable in his hands, like it was about to break in two, your cheeks were flushed red, eyes slightly blood-shot from the broken gag-reflex, spit soaking your front with his each thrust, he liked it when you made a mess.

"Always feel so fucking good. So good. So pretty when you take my cock-“

His words were cut short once you pulled back, the cold air wrapping out his spit-slicked cock like a blanket. He twitched, the purple, angry head begging to be back inside of your warm throat.

“Fuck. You're so fucking good to me— Treat me so well”

You smirked, slapping the tip on your lips lightly before wrapping your lips around him again, slopping using them to get him there.

“Gonna cum on my face A?”

He blushes, eyes turning into hearts with each flick, each movement as he scanned your features, picking and choosing where to finish, where to mark you.

“Yeah— Yeah, If you want it, fuck— Yeah”

Your flick your wrist professionally, quickly too, watching his eyebrows furrow, his mouth fall open, agape.

“Come on baby, Cum for me”

His hips stuttered, thighs shaking slightly as his cock twitched, load after load spilling from his cock, covering the reddened skin on your face. He squinted, watching as you basked in it, pleased to be the one on your knees for him.

“Shit…”

Adrian couldn’t help himself, he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss you, his cum smearing as you both move your faces together.

The thing is, Adrian was one obsessed motherfucker, and seeing you like this drove him crazier then his very own weaponry…

He loved…no, he breathed for it, for you.

[letsasoiaftogether]

Heir of the Rock x The Rose (Full Length)

IMAGINE...being Tyrion’s twin/the youngest son to Lord Tywin, meeting your nephew’s betrothed, and (eventually) having a secret, treasonous affair with Queen Margaery

Word Count: 6,414

Warning: VERY brief mention of pregnancy-loss (nothing graphic/it’s just like a history of mention), canon-typical age differences, canon divergence (if that’s a warning!) SMUT about 5000+ words in, well under the read more!

A/n: One shot based off of this gif imagine, I hope you all enjoy! It’s a long one! I decided to do it this way instead of doing several small parts that would be posted separately! Sorry for any grammar errors! I tried to catch all the mistakes in typing it out/before posting!

A/n2: Purple Wedding didn’t happen so Joffrey is alive, Sansa is still in the Capital, Tyrion never went to trial, Tywin is alive, no Faith Militant, Others ARE a thing but...not quite THAT big of a problem yet, etc.

“Ser, may I introduce my sister, Lady Margaery Tyrell.”

You met the future Queen of Westeros in the gardens at the Red Keep. You had been walking alone, enjoying the smell of the plants all around you and the buzzing of people all around you, when you had come across Ser Loras and his younger sister.

You could still remember the way she had smiled at you the first time the two of you ever met.

Playful and teasing, like she knew a secret you didn’t.

It was breath taking, and if you had been a lesser man of lesser birth you would have fallen to your knees and begged for her love right there. You had only been in the capital for half a day at that point, but you had yet to see anyone as breath taking as her. Even growing up at the Rock, you were quick to hold the opinion that there was no one in the world that could challenge her.

“My Lady,” taking her offered hand, you bowed and pressed your lips to her knuckles – humming at the feeling of the soft skin of her hand pressed against the calloused, roughness of your own. “You will be a breath of fresh air to both House Baratheon and House Lannister. Dare I say, you will be the greatest beauty for any of us to behold since my dear, late mother passed away.” You hadn’t known your mother, the late Lady Joanna, but you had heard of her beauty and her fierceness. Two things the rose in front of you would need if she was going to marry, bed, and live with your psychopathic nephew.

“You flatter me, Ser.” She had laughed and pretended to be shy as she looked down, a light blush on her cheeks. Most would probably think she was blushing from embarrassment; you knew she was blushing because she enjoyed the compliments. The sly way she looked at you afterwards when you finally released her hand was enough to confirm your suspicions. “It is delightful to meet you. When I heard our noble King had a third Uncle, and a twin to Lord Tyrion at that, I knew I just had to meet you the first chance I got.”

Flattery. Rehearsed words all ladies in Westeros were taught to recycle and repeat whenever in public environments…you weren’t sure how much of what she said was true, but you were certain – either way – it was all rehearsed in her head just as you had been taught to tell an enemy what they wanted to hear in order to get what it was you wanted.

“Yes, unfortunately, I have to admit that Tyrion got all the looks between the two of us.” It was a joke you and Tyrion had shared since you were very young. So many others used it as cruelty toward your brother due to his stunted height, and so Tyrion and you had begun to use it as your own joke – a way to use their mockery against him by fashioning it into a suit of armor for your twin.

It was subtle, but you saw the small switch in her features before Margaery responded with a laugh and a “You jest, Ser!” No matter her feelings toward Tyrion, or your family as a whole, she didn’t appreciate people being mocked.

“In a way I suppose I do,” you admitted with a small smile, finally sparing a look in Ser Loras’ direction, noting how he had walked away a few feet to speak to a guard dressed in the colors and sigil of a house from the Reach. He was her chaperone, and not a very good one at that in your opinion.

Still, it did allow you and Margaery a bit of privacy even with the two of you being in a public setting.

Taking Margaery’s hand, you led her over to one of the small sitting areas that overlooked a stretch of the Blackwater. “Tyrion is my dearest brother; I beg of you to understand that.” You begun to explain, softly, as the two of you sat down. “He has been hated for his size and his looks our whole life. If he had been born normal, what most would consider normal, like me than he would have been spared such ridicule. But, alas, whereas you or I could have easily killed our mothers at our births and still been loved, Tyrion had a hand in killing our mother and simultaneously had a hand in insulting our Lord Father by being a half man.”

Every cruel joke and word that had been thrown at Tyrion throughout the near twenty-seven years you had been alive rang through your mind. You had always tried to protect him as much as you could. He was older than you, to some he nearly caused your own death with the violence he shown in ripping out of Lady Joanna and “nearly killing her on the spot.” But he was your brother, your twin, and he did not have your advantages. You had to protect him. No matter what. From your father, the banners of the west, your elder sister, and even from Tyrion himself.

“He is not perfect. He is spiteful and doesn’t seem to truly take anything serious. Like Jaime. He is most like our Father, I think. He will let an insult go for a time, but sooner or later, Tyrion always gets the revenge he deems he’s owed. But...he is my brother. I would never intentionally harm him physically or verbally.”

You needed her to know that you weren’t like your family. You needed Margaery to know that what you said before about Tyrion having all the looks was an inside joke between you and your twin.

Not only did you not want her to think ill of you, but you didn’t want her to think she had no allies at court and that she would have to be cruel to keep her place.

Please, you are most definitely not Cersei, Lady Margaery. Remain kind. Remain thoughtful.

The world so desperately needed such gentleness after all the pain and death.

“Ser,” her hand covered your own as she gave you a sweet smile, her brown eyes beaming, “Anyone who thinks you do not care about Lord Tyrion are foolish.”

“And what do you think of me?” You were half-teasing when you asked it, figuring she would laugh and give some comment of flattery that anyone would give to a Lannister and the (possible) future Lord of Casterly Rock.

There was a seriousness to her as Margaery lifted her free hand and placed it to your cheek, “That you see a great deal more than you let on. That you are not like your Father, sister, or brothers. That you…” she paused, her eyes flickering here and there as if she was searching for something specific that would lend her the correct words to use to describe her thoughts, “That you are one of a kind, Ser, and I find myself overjoyed to have had the opportunity to meet you and speak to you.”

It was your turn to be speechless.

It wasn’t anything new for you. You had always been more quiet, more internal and thoughtful.

Only now…now you wished you could find the words to say in response to that.

Instead, your mouth was dry.

And your heart had slowed to a pace that shouldn’t have brought you peace, but it did.

There was a calm inside of you as you held her gaze.

It wasn’t love. No. It was too early for that, and you felt that Margaery was far too young for you even if she was – if you remembered correctly – around sixteen and, thus, of age in the eyes of Westerosi customs.

But it was fondness.

And…wonder.

In all your years growing up at Casterly Rock, never had you dreamt that you would find an angel who would look past the reds and golds of your Father’s house and see you for who you were in private – not just for the mask you wore around everyone else.

Soft and warm, witty and charming…

How could you have ever dreamt of such a creature? The lions were known to be selfish, to believe only they were worth having the greatest treasures in the world, but never could you have ever selfishly dreamt up such a gift from the gods could exist in human form.

It was in that moment as you lifted her hand to your lips once more, placing a brief kiss to her palm, that you chose the path of selfishness. That you decided, then and there, no matter what, you would remain close to Margaery. Lady or Queen. You would not lose her companionship, no matter the form it was offered to you.

*

“…are trying to marry Sansa Stark to Willas Tyrell.” There was very little that was stopping you from not laughing at your Lord Father, the Hand of the King, as you sat in the Tower of the Hand with him, Cersei, and Tyrion.

Somehow, you managed to keep your amusement to yourself as you waited for the great Tywin Lannister to continue with whatever he had to say and get to the reason you had been summoned there beyond to tell you what House Tyrell was planning.

It didn’t surprise you, and honestly you supported it. Sansa, from what very little you knew of her, seemed the type to have been very happy at Highgarden. Plus, you knew that Willas Tyrell, the heir of Mace Tyrell and Margaery’s eldest brother, was intelligent and a decent enough person. He would be good for Sansa in time if he gave her the chance to heal and grow before expecting anything from her.

Far better than Joffrey, at the least.

“…we cannot allow that to happen.” Your father was saying as you refocused, “So, we must find Sansa Stark a new husband.”

“Good luck with that then.” Tyrion was skeptical, just as you were beginning to feel. There was a reason the two of you had been called there, and it was more than just the fact you were Lannisters.

You looked at your father and then at your sister, noticing the way your Father was looking at you with a look of expectation, as if he was waiting to see the moment the realization of his words struck you. Cersei was just smirking ugly as she always did when she was smug over knowing something others didn’t.

“Which of us?” The words fell from your tongue thickly, your throat squeezing in disgust

Naturally, Cersei opened her mouth to spew her hatred before your Lord Father had a chance to, “I think it should be Tyrion. Oh, how delightful that would be.” Her beautiful face was distorted with hatred, the lioness smirking openly at your twin brother who stared back at her in equal amount disbelief and dislike.

“She’s a child!” Tyrion protested, slamming shut the book he had brought in with him to discuss the costs of Margaery and Joffrey’s wedding, “Take her from Joffrey just to give her to me? How cruel can our family be to her?!”

“You should be grateful. This is far more than you deserve.” Cersei continued to mock him, but there was a bite to her words. She always did hate when she believed others were playing at being decent.

You listened to them argue back and forth but returned your gaze to your father. He had only spared his other two children a fleeting look before focusing back on you. It was the only answer you needed to know who he had chosen to secure the North for the crown.

She’s even younger than Margaery.

How old is she again? Thirteen? Fourteen in a few moons?

If Margaery is a child, does that make Sansa Stark an infant?

“I want to be the one to inform her, Father. That’s the only concession I ask for.” You had spent nearly every day of your life around your Tywin Lannister, you knew what you could say and what wouldn’t be immediately dismissed as if your Father had better things to listen to. You knew what was pointless in bringing up, “She’ll be miserable” or “This isn’t fair to her!” He wouldn’t care. He would roll his eyes and fire back with something cold and stern.

Your Father smirked, or his lips turned up ever so slightly in what you considered a smirk, and he nodded “Very well.” And he lifted his hand, his way of dismissing you.

You fled the room, for once not stopping to consider if Tyrion was staying or following.

There was a tightness in your chest, anger mixed with an understanding of the situation that brought disgust and hopelessness and resentment. You understood that House Stark was needed to truly secure the North and stop another rebellion (at the least, in your Father’s life time), and you understood why it was better for your House to have that control over any other – especially the Tyrells who were just as (if not more) powerful than your Father’s house.

That didn’t mean you had to be okay with it.

That didn’t mean that you couldn’t be disgusted with it all.

You were nearly a decade and a half older than Sansa Stark. There was no way you could go through with what your father believed would happen.

Wed her, Bed her, Put a child in her…

There was no doubt that he had silently thrown the command at you, but you refused. You wouldn’t do that to Sansa. You couldn’t…

That’s not who I want to be.

Worried that another would tell Sansa, you went straight to her and found the eldest daughter to Ned Stark with Margaery and her cousins, in the Maiden Vault, seated on plush cushions surrounding a table covered with deserts.

You nearly changed your mind when you realized this, not wanting to say anything in front of the Tyrells – whether because you were trying to keep it all a secret or because you didn’t want Margaery to think poorly of you, you couldn’t be sure.

“My Lady?” you spoke softly as you moved toward Sansa, bowing once she had looked up and met your gaze, “My apologies for bothering you. We must speak, urgently.”

“Ser Y/N!” Margaery laughed, reaching for your hand in an attempt to pull you down so you’d be seated beside her.

You shook your head, refusing her offer while staring at the auburn haired girl you would soon cloak and bring under your protection.

Sansa was seated across from you, her gaze confused and apprehensive. Delicately as you knew the Stark girl often acted, she placed her half-eaten lemon cake back onto her plate and dropped her hands into her lap. “Ser, I’m not sure what we could have to talk about.” She wasn’t rude about it, just confused and uncertain. No doubt, after all the horrors your nephew had put her through, she was waiting to finally be told she would be killed as her father had been.

Or, worse, married to Joffrey after all.

“Lord Tywin, my father, has just informed me of a decision he and the King have made just this morning. A decision that concerns you, My Lady, in which I requested to be given leave to tell you myself.” The words fell robotically from your lips, just as the words of flattery had fallen from Margaery’s weeks earlier. Your tongue felt heavy, and it took all you had to not stutter over your words.

You watched Margaery look from the Stark girl to you and back, her own hands which were in her own lap turned white as she seemed to realize the possibility of your family learning of the Tyrells plot.

Sansa’s eyes were wide and her voice shook only slightly as she whispered, “What is it, Ser? What does your House want from me now?”

You closed your eyes, unable to look at her as you whispered, “Your name.” and half a heartbeat later you explained, briefly, “We are to be wed.”

You were met with silence and looks of shocked horror.

*

The Small Council was more than annoyed at the fact you were so stubbornly against consummating your marriage, more than once threatening to annual the marriage or find another Lannister to do the job instead, but even two years into your union with Sansa Stark, your father had yet to follow through with the threat.

Just as you knew he would.

You were his heir. If he or someone else even appeared to bed your wife in your stead, that would only cause rumors that you weren’t capable of fathering children or that Sansa was infertile. At the least, as far as most of the realm believed, you and Sansa shared a bed but were simply slow at producing your first heir.

Besides, after you had brought up your concerns about Sansa dying in childbirth alongside the child due to her young age and undeveloped body, even being backed by studies recorded by the Maesters of the Citadel, your lord father reluctantly stepped down a little.

“She will be turning sixteen soon,” Margaery, the Queen of Westeros for two years now, mentioned one morning as the two of you walked the gardens with your ten-year-old nephew, Tommen, who you had taken as your squire shortly after marrying Sansa. “No doubt, your continued insistence that she isn’t old enough or prepared enough to be a mother will be mute.” It was her way of warning you. She always did her best to keep you aware of her husband’s moods and feelings toward anything and everyone at court.

You considered her words as you watched Tommen lean over to brush his hand through the water in one of the many bird baths before moving to do the same to the fountain a few feet away.

She knew all too well the expectations placed on young, noble ladies to conceive and birth children. The Small Council had given her a year to grow with the King’s child, and yet nothing seemed to take root. It was well known that Joffrey visited her bed nearly every night for that first year without success, and then for half a year after that he had visited her several times a day, and the last few months he seemed to grow bored with her and had begun to visit her – instead – every other day, there were some weeks he had only visited her twice.

“I will need to consummate our marriage, yes.” You had, with difficulty, acknowledged this fact days earlier when Sansa herself had mentioned her upcoming nameday – she had been asking you about the chances of traveling to Casterly Rock during it. She had yet to be there, and she was inquiring about the likelihood of being able to meet and visit with her Uncle Edmure Tully who was a permanent prisoner resident of the Rock alongside his Frey wife and their daughter.

You had told her that you would ask your Father and the conversation had been dropped, but it had also made you realize how your time of fighting the inevitable was coming to an end. Sooner rather than later you would have to bed your Lady Wife.

“Just as the crown is going to have to do something in regards to the King.” You grabbed Margaery’s hand and waited for her to stop walking before whispering, “Joffrey seems incapable of producing children. Or the two of you are not right for each other. They will have him sleep with a whore or get him a noble mistress, someone they can trust not to talk if she fails to fall with child in a time the council believes appropriate.” Turning your body to face her fully, you added, “There is no telling what my nephew will do should another fall pregnant with his child.”

Everyone knew he was practically Maegor the Cruel reborn. And he had only gotten worse since he had turned sixteen, coming of age, and calling off what little regency he had.

Margaery didn’t try to talk circles around you. It had been too long since she had done that when the two of you were alone.  Instead, she nodded and asked, “What do you suggest, Ser? There is only so much I can do, even as Queen.”

There were fertility teas, but as far as you knew, Margaery had already been made to try well over two dozen variations. None with any success. There were rumored positions and times of day/week that were said to work best for those trying to fall pregnant. There had been no success with those either.

Everyone wanted to blame Margaery, but you were one of the few who believed the King was at fault.

There were no signs that Margaery, nor House Tyrell, had issues with fertility or childbearing; however, the rumors of Joffrey’s conception being as they were…you could easily understand how such things could affect fertility.

Look at the Targaryens, after all. Sure, most were able to conceive, but how many were stillbirths and miscarriages.

There was, really, only one sure fire way to see if Margaery was infertile or not…

The thought alone made you shift from one foot to another, your hand moving to the hilt of your sword as if to fend off an invisible enemy.

It was an act of treason, and whoever suggested it could be killed. The person that actually took part in it would…well, who knew what Joffrey would creatively come up with as a method of torture.

“Y/n?” Margaery’s hand on your cheek drew you from your thoughts, a look of curiosity and concern was written across her face.

“I cannot say it, Your Grace. It’s not wise or safe to say.” You covered her hand with yours, grateful for the softness of her touch. Leaning closer to her, you whispered, “You must become with child, one that could be passed off as His Grace’s, and soon.”

You left her there as one of Margaery’s cousins came around the corner of the hedge and quickly approached the Queen.

As you reached the edge of the gardens near one of the many castle doors that led inside, you glanced over your shoulder at the Queen – watching as her soft, brown locks blew slightly in the wind, her big, brown eyes holding hers as her Hightower cousin whispered in her ear. You offered her a smile and bowed, never taking your gaze from her’s as you thought, Remember this. I will do whatever you ask of me. I am yours to do with as you please. Your faithful servant, My Queen, until my dying day.

*

You heard later that Margaery was summoned to the throne room after your walk in the gardens. That was what her cousin had been sent to inform her. Joffrey had been awaiting her, his Kingsguard and Small Council in attendance. The prick had scolded her for not doing her duties, for spending all her time with Sansa and with you. Your nephew had accused her of being a whore and reminded her that House Tyrell would be nothing without the Lannisters, that Margaery would be nothing without Joffrey.

You were told this by a servant that night as you sat having dinner with Sansa. The two of you sat in stunned silence as the servant told everything. Even for someone as cruel as Joffrey, you wouldn’t have expected some of the things he had said.

“I wish I could be surprised.” Sansa whispered as the two of you laid in bed, her in her shift and you in your trousers (as you never slept naked in each other’s presence), her head on your chest had become habit when she was upset “I just feel so awful for her. I wish I knew if she was alright.” Your young wife sniffled and instinctively you tightened your arms around her.

“Would you like to go and see her? I am sure she would appreciate the company.” It wasn’t yet too late. The two of you often laid down early so you would be left alone by others and could have time to think over your days. No doubt, Margaery would still be awake for several hours.

“What if His Grace is with her?” Sansa didn’t sound afraid as she would have two years prior. Her voice was still soft, the words sounded rehearsed as she had learned to say them in, but instead of being afraid of Joffrey, your young wife had grown annoyed and angry, and often – privately – whispered to you how it was “for the best” that she wasn’t her younger sister, Arya, or else the King would be dead – or his death would be near.

You weren’t sure how much of it was an exaggeration in terms of how her younger sister was like, but you had very little doubt of Sansa’s capabilities if given the opportunity.

Gently, you eased Sansa’s head from your chest and got to your feet. “I pity him if Joffrey turns up at the Queen’s chambers tonight. No doubt, Ser Loras has been stationed inside his sister’s room as a deterrent to any who dare enter.” Moving over to the balcony, you pulled the doors shut and slipped the lock into place. “Or, I can always go and check on her myself in case my nephew is there, and then report back to you.” Whether Sansa was braver and smarter now than she had been, you knew her fear still gripped her sometimes when around your family.

“Please,”

Your heart could have broken at the sound of that single word.

It still surprised you how caring Sansa could be toward others, even more so than Margaery sometimes. It made you want to wrap the girl in your arms and shield her with your own life.

Moving back over to the bed, you cupped Sansa’s face in your hands and placed a kiss to her forehead. It was the only amount of intimacy beyond holding her in bed (and holding hands) that you allowed between the two of you. You were still so reluctant against using her in such a way.

“You are a delight to me, My Lady.” You sweetly complimented before pulling away to dress.

You noticed the color to Sansa’s cheeks and the way she thanked you so shyly as you went to turn away. It was yet another reason for you to stand firm on the boundaries you had created between the two of you.

As you slipped into the hall, you heard Sansa slip the board into place across the door – it was a another, small rule you had set from your first day of marriage. She was never alone in your chambers without the lock in place.

You had a single guard outside your door, one you had trusted your whole life and who you knew to be loyal to you and no one else. As you stepped past him, you softly ordered him to remain there and protect your wife. And should anyone wish to see you, that you were indisposed due to “attempting to do your duty.” Purposefully, you left the meaning up to interpretation.

The walk to the Queen’s chambers in Maegor’s Holdfast was brief thanks to the placement of your own rooms. Less than ten minutes and Ser Loras was greeting you with a stiff bow. It was obvious he was tense and angry.

“Is she alone?” you asked the white knight, gaze flickering over his Kingsguard armor and the hilt of the sword at his side.

The third son to Mace Tyrell nodded, stiffly, and said “As she has been all evening.” And he stepped inside the room to announce you.

After a brief few moments of muffled voices, Ser Loras stepped back out and gestured you inside.

You wasted no time in doing so, bowing lowly as soon as you were inside with the door shut behind you.

Margaery was in bed, but she wasn’t prepared for bed. It just looked as if she had chosen to lay down out of boredom or a headache. She looked troubled, but not as if she had been crying.

Thank the gods, it doesn’t look like Joffrey had been cruel enough to strike her.

That was something you had been most worried about since being told by the servant what had happened. Ever since Sansa had softly whispered that were she in Margaery’s position, Joffrey wouldn’t have hesitated to have Ser Meryn hit her.

“He used to do it all the time.”

“Ser Y/n,” Margaery smiled and held out her hand, silently telling you that you could move closer. She didn’t get out of bed, and as you took her hand to kiss her knuckles you couldn’t help but notice she was shaking ever so slightly.

Had you been crying after all?

Clearing your throat, you explained your being there with, “Sansa was concerned for you and wishes she could come herself, but I fear she was worried that His Grace would be here. I came in her stead.” As you remained standing next to the bed, Margaery’s hand clutched in your own as you tried to figure out what to say and how to comfort her.

It wasn’t like you could go and punch some sense into the King.

As tempting as that is.

“I must become with child.” Margaery spoke as if you hadn’t said anything, her smile glued to her lips even as her eyes seemed a distant. As if she was physically in that room, but mentally she was in her own world. Her voice was robotic as if someone had a blade to her throat and she was simply repeating what was fed to her from behind. “I am the Queen, you see, and I have been remiss in my duties. Our gracious King reminded me of that today. I must do my duty to my hus…”

You slapped a hand over her lips without really thinking, something sparking in your chest pushing you to silence her before she could say anything further. You were pissed and you were barely holding yourself back.

How fucking long will we all stand on the side watching this damned, cursed city make people less than who they truly are?

How many times will be stand by and let my sister and brother’s bastard son be so cruel before someone puts him in his place?

Her fingers wrapped around your wrist and after a moment of you just standing there, half bent over her, breathing heavily and trying to decide if you wanted to hold her or scold her, you let Margaery pull your hand away so she could speak.

“I know that Joffrey might not be able to father my children, Ser.” One hand kept ahold of your wrist as the other pressed against your covered chest, “I know that I will have to find a suitable replacement.”

Lannister green eyes met the dark brown of her own as her words set in.

Margaery slid her hand lower, her voice dropping lower in what you knew to be the flirtatious tone she used when being playful and teasing, and murmured “That is what you had been suggesting this morning, isn’t it?”

“Your Grace,” you were breathless, no amount of experience could ever prepare you for a beautiful, kind temptress like the Rose of Highgarden.

“Your Queen asked you a question, Y/n.” She was laughing at you, a small giggle slipping past her lips as she stood, pressing her body to yours.

You cursed, but you returned her smile as well.

*

Your first night didn’t happen on that visit. If the two of you were going to risk your lives, you both knew you would have to play it safe.

Margaery began drinking fertility teas as often as was safe enough to do, the two of you slowly distanced yourself from one another to lesson suspicion and make it appear as if the Queen had silently renewed her vows to your nephew, and you pleaded with your lord father until you had been given permission to take Sansa to the Westerlands for half a year.

It was four moons later on the eve of your departure back to the Rock when you finally made love to Margaery for the first time.

Joffrey had gone hunting that afternoon, but that morning he had ordered Margaery to his bed. It was perfect. Should your seed quicken within the young queen, no one – Joffrey especially – would have any reason to believe someone other than the bastard himself was father.

You met Margaery in the godswood under the heart tree an hour after Joffrey had ridden under the southern gate of the city. You were dressed in the red and golds of your house, and she was dressed in the greens and golds of her own. In some, delusion and silly part of your brain, you made the silent joke that it was as if the two of you were getting married.

“Are you certain?” you asked as you took her hand and led her over to the blanket you had laid out behind the oak tree, hidden from view of anyone unless they chose to walk close enough.

Margaery just smiled and closed the space between your bodies, leaning up to press her lips to your cheek.

One more, single look from her and it was enough to have your arms wrapping around her body and kissing her for the very first time.

Her lips were soft and tasted of honey from her afternoon snack. They moved with yours in fluid motion, giving control to you as you did the same in return.

Your bodies felt perfect together. Your arms wrapped tightly around her, one of your hands on the small of her back and the other tangled in the long, thick brown curls of her hair. Her hands clung to the back of your head, her nails digging into your hair and the nape of your neck. Her figure was small but womanly, and you could only imagine how even more beautiful she would be when the effects of motherhood took hold. Your own figure was broad shouldered and muscled, not quite like your older brother Jaime, but you weren’t scrawny by any means.

The two of you let your clothes fall wherever as you undressed, your lips and hands moving all over each other – doing your best to explore Margaery as she did the same in return – even as you lifted her briefly just so you could lay her down and settle yourself on top of her.

“You are beautiful,” you murmured, brushing the tips of your fingers down the side of her face then her neck, collarbone, and to her small breasts. “I will be jealous at the fact he will lay with you when I am not.” Perhaps it was stupid to admit it in that moment, but you wanted her to know. Needed her to know.

Margaery whispered your name and pulled you close for another, soothing kiss. “My sweet, loyal knight. My lion protector. My Lord of Casterly Rock.” She was pleased by your words; you could tell by the smirk she wore as she spoke against your lips.

Cursing in a shaky breath, you lined your cock up with Margaery’s entrance and buried your face in her neck as you give a sharp thrust of hips.

Am I any better than Jaime? All he has done has been for love. And what I’m doing now? It’s not to get some sort of revenge on Joffrey on Sansa’s behalf. No. This…this is my desire for Margaery, my love for my nephew’s wife. My…my love and desire and my fear that if something isn’t done that Joffrey will kill…

Gritting your teeth and pulling yourself away from dark thoughts, you settled yourself on your arms and took the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms as your own.

With a roughness you would feel bad about afterwards, but which Margaery seemed to love all too much, you left bruises with your mouth and your hands on her pale skin knowing Joffrey and the maids wouldn’t question them (if they even noticed).

Margaery left her own marks on you, angry red claw marks that bled in a few places and she littered your neck and shoulders in bruises as she tried to quiet herself and not draw attention to your coupling.

The two of you carried on for hours, and you made sure to take your sweet rose in every position rumored to help conceive, flashing a smirk up at her as Margaery sat, straddling your hips, shaking from yet another orgasm as you continued to thrust up into her. Both of you had found your release multiple times, Margaery had the natural advantage of being a woman and you had always been blessed with a high endurance to such activities.

Three more, quick and sharp thrusts later, and you filled your lover with your seed once more, continuing to give slow, lazy thrusts until your balls were empty and you stilled. Margaery had fallen limp and quiet before you had finished and as you settled and tried to catch your breath, your wrapped your arms around her, holding her close.

“You know,” she whispered several, long minutes earlier when she had finally caught her breath and regained some strength, “I will be jealous of Sansa, I think, when she finally falls heavy with your child. It will be difficult to share you, even if it is truly she who is sharing you first.”

You kissed Margaery’s forehead and tilted her head up so you could meet her gaze, “I will have to tell her about us. She will be hurt, and I am sorry that she will be hurt. I will explain our reasoning, I cannot keep this from her. I…I know she will come to understand. I hope anyway.”

“Hope,” the brunette whispered as she laid her head back on your shoulder and shut her eyes.

You let her rest for a while, your arms wrapped around her, and a mix of worry and glee for the future clouding your thoughts.

[rommahh]

{there’s a first time for everything. I just wrote smut…lol}

Part 1

Harry strolled into the hotel room high off of adrenaline. Night one of Chicago leaving him feeling his best and his love waiting for him back at the room making him even more excited. Their pre-show activities left him on edge, blood rushing to his nether regions every time he thought of you.

He pushed the hotel room door open, slipping his boots off by the door. He followed the long hallway down to the bedroom and was graced with you wrapped in your favorite blanket, face smushed into his pillow.

You had one bare leg slipping out of the blanket making Harry come closer to run a gentle hand over the soft skin. He smiled at your sleeping figure before placing a kiss ontop of your head. He did want a little something from you after his concert but having seen you seen you so deep in sleep- he only wanted for you to rest.

Harry slipped into the shower quietly without realizing your slowly awaking form. You rolled from your spot in bed, stretching wide as you feel your muscles relax. You hear the shower running meaning that your boyfriend was home from his show.

Your core tingled thinking about what could happen after he gets out of the shower. You stand from the bed and fold the blanket, setting it to the side.

You walk over to the vanity to try and make yourself look less like you’ve just had the best nap of your life. Your lingerie was rumpled a little but with a few tugs, it fell back in place. Spotting an unopened bottle of champagne, you walk over to it and turn the two glasses over right side up.

Popping the bottle open, successfully with no spills, you pour two glasses and walk them over to the bedside tables. You sat yourself in the middle of the bed with your glass and scrolled through Twitter to look at some of the shows highlights.

Harry walked out of the bathroom freshly cleaned, boxers on, ready to cuddle his girl into the morning. He was throughly surprised to see said girl sitting against the headboard dressed in her prettiest lingerie.

“Holy…” Harry trails off gobsmacked by the sight. The nude color of the lingerie complimented your skin color, your legs smooth as ever (though Harry could care less if there was hair anywhere on your body because he was just obsessed with you.)

Your head shot up from where you were looking at your phone. You gave Harry a small smile before placing your glass down and crawling on your knees to the edge of the bed. “Hi baby.”

“I thought you were sleeping.” He murmurs dropping his damp towel down to the floor. He had it wrapped around his shoulders for his hair while wearing bright purple boxers to sleep in. He walked towards you slowly, eyes taking in everything that he could.

Your breast were hidden away by the stops of fabric covering them. Your hips were hugged by the lace, the skirt of the fabric flowing around your butt. Harry thought you looked gorgeous beyond belief. His hand came forward to stroke a finger down your throat and down the plunging v of your lingerie.

“You’re not as quiet as you think. Heavy ass feet.” You joke. He playfully snarls at you making you laugh. You lean forward on your haunches capturing his lips in yours. His hands wound around your body resting comfortable in the bare skin of your bottom.

He let his hands dip under the fabric of your underwear to feel more skin, inching closer and closer to your core.

You slipped back from him pushing his hands off of you. Moving back to the mass of pillow, you lay back with a cheeky grin. Harry stood at the end of the bed, slightly leaning forward entranced by you. Your legs fall apart inviting Harry to climb in between them.

The underwear clung to your lower lips beautifully making Harry’s dick swell uncomfortably. He wasted no time launching onto the bed and ontop of you. He ferociously kissed your neck and cleavage making you giggle.

“You look delectable.” He growled making your stomach flutter. The fabric covering your chest was moved to the side revealing your pretty breast. Your nipples perked from arousal. His mouth pecked both breast, sucking the right nipple in. You pushed your chest further towards him, his other hand pinching the lonely nipple. Removing himself from your chest, he moved down your body before nestling on the bed between your spread legs. You looked down at him to see him staring intently at your core. You were sure there was a patch of wetness on the lace. “Let me take this off?”

You nodded giving him the ok to help you remove the underwear. Pushing your legs further apart, he watched as your lips parted, slick following in strings connecting from each lip. His head dropped to the bed at the sight, trying to contain his excitement. You blushed at his reaction. He never failed to make you feel like the most gorgeous girl in the room.

The first swipe of his tongue between your legs made you moan out from shock. He started soft and sweet and gradually become more vigorous. His tongue fumbled with your clit, knocking it up and down, side to side. You gripped the pillows beside you trying to not cum on the spot.

His right hand came up to your weeping hole, index fingers circling the hole to tease you. You whimpered at the feeling.

“Baby please, want you in me.” You whispered with eyes clenched shut. With one last suckle to your clit, Harry tipped two fingers in your hole before he sat up on his haunches. You whined at the loss of contact.

“Don’t be greedy, was enjoying a meal there.” You flick him at his comment. He gave you a boisterous laugh hands pushing his boxers down. His dick slapped against his stomach, the red tip gleaming with pre cum. Your left hand left the pillow, reaching out for his dick. He scooted closer to you, his folded legs propping your limp ones over his. Your core was moments away from his- the heat burning him.

You wrapped your hand around the tip, spreading his arousal around only at the top. He hissed at the feeling, bottom lip being tugged into his mouth. It was his turn to moan, soft sounds escaping his lips at your teasing. He pushed your hand away before pushing his cock down on your warm heat. You both gasped as he rubbed himself between your lips, your wetness spreading everywhere.

You couldn’t contain your noises as he nudged your clit. Without warning he leaned over you, arms on either side of you, and pushed into your slick hole. You felt like you could cry because of how good it felt. Harry basked in your soft cry of pleasure, his own sounds stuck deep within him.

Your walls snuggly grasped him, every thrust met with a tight grip. He kissed all over your face before meeting your lips. Your hands gripped his slim waist as you begged for more.

“Want more? Not giving you enough?” He taunted, pushing your legs by the back of your knees, he spread you out more. His dick started reaching new depths, hitting the spongy patch that made you squeal.

“God, Harry!” He sped up more, tip barely brushing your cervix. Tears leaked from your eyes from the pleasure. You felt like you could feel every part of him from the veins to the ridges of his tip. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it.” That’s all it took before the tightening in your stomach exploded. You shuddered uncontrollably as he continued to pound into you searching for his own release. You quickly felt another build up with in you, your loud moans of pleasure filling the spacious room.

He hit your g spot one more time causing you to clench around him with such a force that made made him cum into you. His sounds of please, deep guttural groans made your ears ring. You felt him paint your walls as another orgasm coursed through your body. He continually said your name as he came down from his high.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. All mine.” He whispered laying down ontop of you, soft cock still inside of you. You kissed his head reciprocating the love. “Gonna be my wife.”

You felt more tears release from your eyes from his words. The idea of being with Harry for the rest of your life overwhelming you in the most positive way.

You both laid in each other’s arms caressing each other. There was this physical connection in between you (aside from him actually being in you) that brought you two closer together. This connection reminded you two of why you were together. You guys loved each other beyond words.

“Gotta pee.” You say breaking the quiet silence. You feel Harry’s chest rumble with laughter above you. “You must carry me, please and thank you.”

“Yes, your highness.” He slipped out of you, the feeling making you both become covered in chills.

Returning to the room, you waited on the bed as Harry dig through your suitcase looking for your favorite undies. He triumphantly yelled when he finally found them. He bowed at your claps of congratulations before helping you into them. He helped you take off the soft lace lingerie, slipping your hoodie over your head.

Under the covers, Harry spooned you from behind, your head resting one his right arm as his left arm sat over your waist.

“Love you.” He mumbles into your hair. You grasp his hand in yours kissing each knuckle.

“Love you more.”

[whltlock]

The Cosmic Horror of Gotham City

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: You and Jason trade truths.

Word Count: 7,097.

Jason let out a long, weary sigh then. You looked up expectantly. “You sure you want to know me?”

The question he posed was a hefty one, but almost immediately you stammered out, “Yeah. Yes.” You were scared he would run at the first sign of hesitation. You nodded, reinforcing your words. “It’s a bit late for that anyway, isn’t it?”

A bemused noise came from the back of his throat. He blinked at your words, and then his forehead fell into your shoulder. It rocked you backwards until you were able to brace yourself against his mass. You heard him sigh again as his nose nuzzled you shyly.

“Your funeral,” Jason muffled into your jumper.

Post secretive chat, the four of you set up camp in the kitchen. Despite an argument about moving to the coffee table—because it would be funny to watch giants cram themselves into the tiny space—both men refused to oblige. Fortunately for them, you’d taken the bribe of a second glass of champagne in exchange for you shutting up.

Donna and Roy assembled a board game while you were left to twiddle your thumbs. Between them, they devised a strategic game plan, including who deserved which colour pawn. As if it impacted game play, but you let them be since they discussed it so seriously.

In the meantime, Jason eyeballed you. He’d noticed the streaky, silvery tracks that you hadn’t quite managed to wipe from your undereyes. You fought the urge to rub at your skin lest it give him more ammunition to pry.

You listened to Donna as she recounted the rules so you were all on the same page. Roy punctuated each of her sentences with an enthusiastic bob of his head.

“This one’s yours,” he told you, handing you a purple piece with a toothy grin. “Sure you understand why.”

You snorted. “Thanks, Roy.”

“And for you, my first-second favourite,” Roy said as he passed the blue pawn to Jason. He accepted it with a roll of his eyes. Roy offered the last one to his lover, “My second-second favourite.”

“Why do you even have a favourite?” Donna demanded as she snatched the yellow one from him.

You patted her hand from across the counter in sympathy. “I don’t even get a favourite.”

Roy claimed the green one. He shot Donna a crooked smile. “To start drama, of course.” Then, he turned to you. “Don’t worry, you’re my favourite s-pawn of Satan.”

You blew out air in utter hilarity. “Thanks.”

With a sideways glance at Jason, you saw how he rolled his pawn between his fingers, then placed it on the starting line. When he looked back at you, he was expressionless. He held your gaze for a few seconds before his eyes dropped to your cheeks and moved upwards again. His brows furrowed while his head tilted in another silent query.

You peeled your eyes away, instead taking your first turn. Jason took his next.

As you cheered Donna on for landing on a ‘move forward three squares,’ you felt the boniness of a knee jut into your thigh. You ignored it until your skin felt tender under the pressure. You tried to glare at Jason but he was conveniently watching the board. You pushed his knee away with an unamused scoff. Thankfully, your friends paid no mind to the non-verbal quarrel.

“Aw, man,” Roy whined when he was overtaken. You had to giggle at how desperate he sounded.

Relentlessly, Jason’s knee returned. You immediately dug your nails into his jeans even though you knew it would prevent nothing. You fantasised about growing claws and sinking them into his flesh. He swatted at your hand, forcing your attention to him. Jason met your frown with one of his own.

You looked down, shocked, when his hand nudged up the hem of your shorts, just far enough that he was able to draw something. You watched as his forefinger traced ‘U OK?’ into your skin.

Goosebumps prickled your thigh. Your heart fluttered dangerously, both at his boldness and at his concern. But, in true you fashion, you turned back to the game. You did your best to ignore those pretty, determined eyes that peered at you incessantly.

Jason tugged on the fabric of your clothes twice, fist rested upon your knee. You grabbed his wrist with an annoyed exhale. “Yes,” you breathed, meeting his stare. “Now stop it.” The second part came out a hiss.

“Huh?” Roy asked, head swivelling between you two. Donna’s eagle-eyed attention latched on in curiosity.

“Jason keeps offering me his bike,” you lied through your teeth. You followed it up with a melodramatic sigh and, “He wore me down.” Sparing him a look, he read unimpressed. Jason had to wonder why you chose to say that of all things.

“No way, dude,” Roy said in a less-than-happy tone. “You said I could have that scrap heap when you were done!”

Jason’s lips thinned in offense. “I happen to love that ‘scrap heap.’”

Mindlessly, your thumb soothed over the soft expanse of his wrist, right where the dark bruises plumed. He side-eyed you strangely.

Donna snorted. “They’re riling you up, dumbass.”

Roy’s arms folded and his muscles strained against his shirt. His sceptical eyes darted between both of you, waiting for confirmation.

“I would never give this ungrateful spawn my bike,” Jason uttered. You let go of him, feeling the slightest bit irked by his words.

Roy harrumphed, then prompted, “What were you talking about then?”

You looked to Donna, hoping she’d make him stop. Instead, she smiled innocently as she anticipated a reveal of some kind.

There was a beat before Jason replied, “How disgustingly in love with Donna you are. It’s revolting.” Just to rub it in, he tacked on, “Have you told her yet?”

Roy spluttered, his freckles lost to the redness that bloomed beneath his skin. Donna fidgeted in her flustered state, hair cascading over her cheeks. A pleased smile stretched across your face at the sight of an Amazonian and whatever Roy was, flailing and unable to contain their emotions.

Your obvious satisfaction caused Jason to slip into smugness. He’d successfully diverted their nosiness. Sheepishly, he glanced at you and squeezed your knee in silent apology. You hummed under your breath, pinky knocking his. It was acceptance, he hoped.

“Roy?” Donna asked unsurely.

“Cat’s outta the bag, I guess,” Roy mumbled as he faceplanted onto the counter. She was wide-eyed as she watched him.

Okay, maybe you felt a little bad.

Somehow, despite the interruptions, you all continued on.

A game of Trouble proved to be more rambunctious than you expected. Between the clicking of the plastic cup and the competitive jeers between all of you, it was a whirlwind of excitement.

You hadn’t played games like this since you were young, so it was nice to be around those who indulged in the simplicities and amusements of childhood. The champagne was just a grown-up bonus.

Donna, Jason, and you were gathered on the same square, not far from the finish line. Much to Roy’s dismay, he’d fallen behind again. A million complaints had come from him each time the distance grew wider.

However, a miracle quickly changed that. Roy rolled a six, propelling him past your pawns and to the end of the game with ease. Simultaneously, your victory-sure faces dropped. Donna looked downright murderous. You huffed, tossing your player piece at Roy’s head.

Jason scowled. “Why does karma reward your bitching?”

Roy’s grin grew at their shared blasphemy, revelling in poor sportsmanship.

Playing might have been an enjoyable feat, but the outcome... the outcome was not as endurable.

As the conversation devolved into a scuffle, you grumbled, “I’m going to put this away,” and jumped off the bar stool, leaving them to it.

You took each bottle and squeezy-tube out of the bag one-by-one, mystified by all the labels. You read them as you placed them on the bathroom counter. It was nice of Donna to bring a house-warming present, although you had no clue how to use the items successfully.

“What’s taking so long?” came Jason’s voice. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him lean against the doorframe. He seemed amused when he spotted the endless sprawl of moisturisers and serums and cleansers.

“She gave you that as well, huh?”

Your face scrunched with confusion. “What?”

He peeled away from the wall. “Donna got me the same gift almost ten years ago,” he elaborated.

Your next question was incredulous, “You’ve been friends for that long?”

He nodded.

“No wonder why they put up with your shit,” you muttered.

Jason snorted as he moved you out of the way. He took over to sort the bottles. The space between your brows remained pinched since you didn’t understand.

“What are you doing?”

“Order of use,” he said simply.

Your mouth gaped, but you forced it closed to mumble, “Oh... okay. Thanks.”

He dismissed your appreciation with a shrug.

You eyed the last tube as you swiped it from the line-up. Your voice wavered as you asked, “Did she give you this too?”

Jason looked at the scar oil for a moment. He sensed the sudden wave of unease that was unleashed because of the personal question, but he wasn’t too bothered in the confines of the bathroom. He swallowed to ensure composure—to keep redness from flooding his face.

“Yeah,” he said, voice gravelly. He took the tube from you and twisted the cap. After he’d torn the protectant seal off, Jason squirted some of the liquid onto his finger. He sighed inwardly, hoping to quell his own anxieties. It was another beat before he dabbed it on his cheek. It was more so to convince himself than you when he said, “No big deal. Just like that.”

You watched with humongous eyes as he fully acknowledged the scar that always bothered him. You fought the urge to stare as the oil glinted under the fluorescent lights. Your gaze dropped to his hand. He offered you the rest to try.

Apprehensively, you lifted your arm. He met your eyes, to which you nodded your consent. He wiped the rest of the oil along your scar with careful precision. His touch was delicate and precise. Unintentionally, you drew nearer to him as you tried to compute his kindness.

When he was done, you patted the excess on the mark on your chest. Jason’s eyes tracked the motion before they sloped back to your face. You knew what he wanted to ask: it was an oddity of a scar—uniform and circular, vaguely medical.

But he didn't. Jason only watched in silence, making no further attempt to push the boundary between you two. Although it felt like another prickly boundary crossed as you stood close enough that his breath fanned over your chin.

You wished he wouldn’t be so hesitant—so here but also there.

You grew uncomfortable as his gaze dragged across your face without a word. He saved each fleck and fine line to memory as if in search of something precious.

So, shamefully, you glanced at the corner of his mouth. You followed the silvery vein up to his bright eyes, and then to the drooping whiteness of his hair. You liked the streak amidst all his curls—made him unique.

Immediately, he ducked his head in response. Jason cleared his throat as he returned to himself.

“Where’s Donna and Roy?” you asked, more so as a truce.

His eyes didn’t lift from the ground, but you heard the slightest cheekiness to his voice as he said, “Went to the roof. Got tired of waiting.” You rolled your eyes. He shifted on his feet. “Will you come? In case they’re...”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll watch with you,” you joked monotonously.

Jason gave a wry smile, finally looking at you again. “Right.”

Your mouth twitched too.

You took one last look at the nicely patterned gift bag before you dumped it in the trash can. Jason tsked at the blasé action. You ignored him. “Let me get a jumper first.”

“I can grab it.”

You blinked at him, forehead furrowed. “This is my house. The least I can do is dress myself.”

“But I owe you, as my gracious host,” Jason mocked.

“I’ll get you one of Roy’s,” you retorted. As if he hadn’t stashed some of his clothes here already.

Jason smirked. “Not if I get there first.”

He was swift to spin on his heel.

“Hey!” you shouted, running after him.

When you got to the roof, you found the couple sprawled across a large blanket. You assumed they’d been stargazing until they’d fallen asleep.

Had you really taken that long?

You’d all been drinking, you reminded yourself. They were sleepy.

You looked to Jason to check if he wanted to stay. He shrugged in turn. There was enough space beside their slumbering forms so he sat down next to Donna. You relaxed into the spot beside him.

Jason followed the splotches of colour that lit up the Gotham skyline. It was quite a sight when it wasn’t accompanied by a hallucination.

You looked out at well, wondering what he saw. Wanting to steal a sliver of his attention, you bumped shoulders. “Tell me something.”

He glanced back with a hum. He was quiet as he considered what to share; a tale that might be of interest to you. “Do you know much about Greek mythology?” he asked. You shook your head. “Hesiod,” —the renowned poet, he explained— “believed the cosmos began with primordial deities, who gave birth to the Titans, and them to the Olympians.”

You snorted. “Dick thinks he’s that important, huh?”

Jason joined your amusement as he nudged you pointedly. “He wants you in on it, too.”

You let out a noise, unsure if he’d meant it as an insult or not. You turned back to the sky. “So, we should thank those deities for creating life?”

“Not exactly...” he murmured. “There was one more, before them. The ‘first of all.’”

Intrigued, you asked, “Who?”

“Chaos—the Void.”

You sought out his face, caught off guard by how stark the words sounded in the breezeless air. You looked him over with concern although he guarded his gaze from yours. “You don’t believe that, right?”

“The Gods are real in some form,” he said, eyes drifting to you. His fingertips grazed your leg as he was consumed by his own ravaged thoughts. “Look at you.”

Look at me, he wanted to add; what should’ve been a mass of rotten flesh and bones and worms, walking—talking—conscious to a fault.

You remained wordless, unsure how to respond to a confession that sounded so simple at surface level, but you’d heard the pain and consternation in his voice as he’d said it.

Jason still felt the wisps of darkness that aimed to choke the life out of him, both in sleep and waking hours. He eyed his bruised wrists and recalled the nightmare that had put them there. “It’s real,” Jason whispered to himself. “I know it is.”

It might be Gotham City itself, he thought. Reigning God over an ungodly place. Might be why the good guys never win.

A sad frown slipped onto your face as you observed his internal struggle. You set your palm atop his, hoping it would help soothe him some. “Maybe he’s friendly?”

A low dash of laughter leapt off his tongue. It was bitter with jagged edges, but he tried. He said your name, “You can’t befriend a cosmic terror.”

“I’ll do it if it makes you feel safer.”

“You belong in a padded cell,” Jason scoffed. You shot him an unaffected smile as you leant back on your palms. In disbelief of your self-assuredness, he shook his head.

But didn’t he have that same confidence? Or, was it purely fuelled by a lack of will to live again? Jason stewed in those thoughts as he traced the nearest constellation.

You digested the sight of his silent form while he looked up at the sky. He didn’t seem as grief-ridden now, but you were still cautious.

Eventually, he moved, jaw set upon his shoulder as he looked at you. The fire in his eyes simmered. “What’s your birth month?” he asked, head tilting in interest. “I’ll tell you the story behind it.”

You shifted closer so you could listen to him regale a tale of a world greater than the one you’d only discovered recently. You nodded every so often, encouraging him.

At one point, he pulled out his phone to show you ancient artwork of zodiac constellations. The imagery was beautiful, even if you couldn’t find them hidden amongst the clouds. You thought the stars in the sky were much simpler than the mythos art behind them. Nonetheless, you were spellbound by his fervour. It was a nice change to see him so unabashed in his spiels again.

You lapsed into a hush when he was done, back to admiring the city. You were once again reminded of how you could survive silence with him without it becoming awkward.

That didn’t mean it couldn’t be awkward, though. Like you made it now, as anxiousness filled you from your cold toes to your gut. You were brought back to the emotions you’d dwelled previously.

Sensing your pensive state, Jason turned to meet it. However, your eyes hurried away, landing on Donna and Roy. You were surprised that they’d remained asleep this entire time. His eyes skirted the same path before his head slanted. Reluctantly, you looked to him. His brows creased in question.

Nerves swallowed you up as you considered and re-considered what you wanted to ask.

“You’re staring,” he finally said.

A cagey huff escaped you. “You’re one to talk, you know.”

His mouth quirked at being called out for the habit.

Fear fluttered in a lively burst at his obvious entertainment. Unsure, you began with, “Can I…—I want to ask something.”

He hummed, urging you onwards.

You swallowed, preparing for the fallout. “Do you love Roy?” It was a mortifying croak.

Jason let out a short bark of laughter, reigning it in as soon as he remembered he would wake the dead—and his stoic self. “That’s what’s been bothering you, huh?”

“I’m not—it doesn’t—it doesn’t bother me that you like guys, or just Roy, or whatever,” you stumbled. Your panicked eyes swayed to and fro. Your hands slipped inside your jumper as you felt like you’d said the wrong thing. You didn’t want to say too much, but you also didn’t want to hurt him in the process of getting an answer.

Jason said your name, low and husky, forcing you from your thoughts. You chewed the skin of your cheek as you looked up. “It hasn’t been like that for a long time.”

You tried to contain your sigh of relief. Still, you felt the need to over-explain yourself so he didn’t misjudge your intentions. “Labels or not, I don’t mind. I don’t give myself one…” you admitted. You peeked at him, dazed to see him listening so intently.

“Is that why you use those pronouns?”

You were elated that his response hadn’t made things worse, but you shook your head. “No… that’s… you know how something makes you feel like a man?”

Jason shrugged. “Guess so.”

“I don’t feel that, in either direction.”

He mulled the idea over, deciding he needed to have a conversation with himself on the topic. “Good to know,” Jason murmured. His gaze moved back to you. “Is it, uh, okay when I call you ‘sweetheart’?” he asked, sounding sheepish.

You looked at the lumps that were Donna and Roy before you responded. Slowly, you nodded.

He gave a nod of his own, lips pursed. “Cool.”

“Sorry I snapped at you,” you said softly.

Jason looked at you with a small, teasing smile. “S’all good. You can’t stop jealousy.”

You sputtered. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Right. ‘Course,” Jason said. “You just don’t like my attention being elsewhere.”

“Well, there’s no one more interesting or entertaining than I,” you deflected. Stupidly, you hadn’t disagreed.

He rested his chin on his shoulder as his eyes roamed your face, making you writhe internally. Jason let out a hum, but you weren’t able to decipher whether it was in agreement or otherwise.

Your heart stuttered when he murmured, “Jury’s still deliberating that one, sweetheart.”

Your gaze dropped to your clothes and a hand crept over the material, picking at imaginary lint. His ever-so-observant eyes continued to monitor your every embarrassing movement.

Jason let out a long, weary sigh then. You looked up expectantly. “You sure you want to know me?”

The question he posed was a hefty one, but almost immediately you stammered out, “Yeah. Yes.” You were scared he would run at the first sign of hesitation. You nodded, reinforcing your words. “It’s a bit late for that anyway, isn’t it?”

A bemused noise came from the back of his throat. He blinked at your words, and then his forehead fell into your shoulder. It rocked you backwards until you were able to brace yourself against his mass. You heard him sigh again as his nose nuzzled you shyly.

“Your funeral,” Jason muffled into your jumper.

You woke up bleary-eyed and tired. Your knuckles assaulted your eyes as you blindly walked into the kitchen. In front of you was an indistinct vision of Roy as he dashed around the room frantically.

“Hello,” you announced your presence in a clunky tone, standing like you’d been plucked from a badly animated video game.

Jason stopped chuckling at Roy and his face softened as his eyes landed on you. “Hey,” he greeted, but it was lost amidst Roy’s immediate complaints.

“Someone called in sick again,” he told you as he stuffed food into his mouth. He came up to you, pausing to look you up and down. “You look like shit,” he said. “Bad sleep?”

“You too,” you smiled at him thinly, but you shrugged as you didn’t have an answer beyond that.

“Take a nap, short stack.” Roy pat your head with a grin. You saw the crumbs of what he’d been eating and made a disgusted noise. “Be good,” he said, ignoring your reaction. He then repeated it as he looked over at Jason.

“No promises,” you sighed as Roy once again breezed past you. You winced as he slammed the front door behind him.

You shuffled up to the counter, taking in the smell of flour for the first time. Your stomach grumbled because of it. When Jason turned around, it was with a plate that he slid towards you. You glanced down, realising it was the same order of waffles you’d made at the diner when he’d forced you to eat.

“You know I only ordered this to be annoying, right?”

His head tilted obnoxiously. “Yeah. But it looks good, so.”

You didn’t argue since it was the truth. You got stuck into the waffle without another word, sinking into the taste of chocolate, fruit, and cream. A match made in heaven. You only briefly looked at Jason, whom ate beside you. Absently, he scrolled through his phone.

Through a mouthful of food, you asked, “What are we doing today?”

He side-eyed you. “‘We’?”

You huffed, swallowing the food before you spoke again. “Fine. What are you doing today?”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Nothing. You?”

That irritated you more. “Nothing,” you seethed. “Separately, obviously.”

He bobbed his head, feigning ignorance despite his desire to laugh at your scowl. “Sounds good.”

You harrumphed when he went back to tapping at his phone. In retaliation, you began to scrap the fork against the ceramic plate. It only urged you on as he winced, and again when he glared at you.

“Cut that out,” Jason warned. You ignored him, accidentally eliciting a particularly brutal screech of the utensil. The sound made you nauseous that time.

He swiftly snatched the fork from your grasp. “Eat with your hands like the child you want to be.”

“I’m a child of the cosmos,” you mocked inaudibly. Yet, he managed to catch it, and a deeper frown took over his expression.

Unfortunately for him, he seemed to forget who you were. Out of spite, you concentrated on your empty palm, summoning a knife-like shard. You began to use it like a toothpick to eat the rest of your food.

Jason’s head tipped backwards in exasperation. He let you know with a drawn out, frustrated sigh.

Your chin jutted out in his direction knowingly. “Headache?”

His eyes narrowed at you. “A big one.”

“Hmm. Let me grab you an aspirin,” you said airily.

“And a pillow.”

“Why?”

“So I can smother myself with it,” Jason drawled.

You bit back a laugh. “Let’s go for a walk once you’re done.”

He snorted. “Sure.”

There was quiet between you. Unable to sit in it, he let out another sigh and leaned forward to catch your eye. “We can do that, if you want,” he tried to amend.

You let out a dismissive hum instead of an actual reply. He prodded you with his knee to draw something more.

“Maybe later,” you answered.

Dejected by your response, he realised he may have hurt your feelings. “Yeah. Alright,” he said, voice quiet.

A few minutes had passed when you suddenly cut through the onerous silence. “Dick trains everyone at the manor, right?”

Tense, he agreed.

“I want to go there,” you said, shifting to look at him. “Not today,” you added quickly, because the idea of going right now scared you. “But... soon.”

Jason swallowed, not liking this news. His jaw locked.

“Raven said she could help me, right?” you prompted when he said nothing.

He nodded slowly. “She did.”

“I want to see her, at least.”

He felt a little better knowing what you were really after. “Uh,” he considered aloud, discomfort surely obvious. “Okay. I’ll let her know.” Because he couldn’t deny you that, especially with how your powers—or more so your temper—concerned you.

“Will you come with me?”

Those words caused him to go rigid. He didn’t want to go anywhere near the manor. But glancing at your face, he was met with a pitiful desperation in your eyes. A lump rose up his throat as he cycled through potential excuses. Words faltered and died on his tongue.

You noticed his agitation. “Oh,” you said, focusing elsewhere. “S’okay. You don’t have to.”

“No, I—” Jason rushed out, trying to keep from disappointing you further. “I will. I’ll come.”

You still faced away, not letting him see how your features brightened in case he felt pressured. “Are you sure?”

His tongue dragged over his bottom lip, completely uncertain. “Yeah.”

Doing ‘nothing’ eventuated in exactly that. Both you and Jason plopped onto the couch on opposite ends, participating in your own activity. Jason thumbed through his copy of Pines, absorbed in the fascinating tale. Occasionally, he would look over to check on you or his phone.

You, on the other hand, had found an adult colouring book on your way home one day. The swirly, patterned line art had enticed you to purchase it, along with a small pack of coloured pencils. You filled in the blank blocks with some semblance of order, however you often went outside of the lines to draw other random things. It was a practice in stretching your creative muscle, you would argue.

Your legs had grown sore, tucked beneath you for some time. You stretched them out with a low sound of relief, then placed them upon the coffee table. You sunk lower into the couch as you did so. You knew your back wouldn’t thank you in half an hour, but at that moment it was the perfect position.

However, Jason seemed intent on ruining your comfortability and fun. “Get your feet off the table.”

Your gaze rose from the page to his face to see he wasn’t even looking at you. “No, thank you,” you said, “I’m fine right here.”

Swiftly, his jaw moved from his book to you, brows raised high, begging for you to test his patience. For a split second, you swam in the cauldron that was his potion green eyes. You felt like a witch lost in their sickly-sweet brew.

You inhaled shallowly as you came back down to Earth. The edges of your mouth quirked into what you hoped was an endearing smile. But really, you found you were the only one charmed when he spoke in a steely tone, unimpressed by your defiance. “Now.”

“I have socks on,” you argued.

His nostrils flared and the muscle of his jaw ticked. Sullenly, you let your feet drop from the tabletop. He allowed the stiffness to release from his posture when he was satisfied.

However, you weren’t happy. You wanted to stretch your legs, preferably in the most belligerent way possible. So, you moved your feet from the floor to the sofa and manoeuvred them under his closest thigh. He heaved a sigh but otherwise said nothing.

You pushed them further beneath him until you could slide down the cushion into a half-lying position. He ignored you as he flicked to the next page. You picked up your own book to continue your doodles.

It wasn’t until Jason was sure you were busy that he peeked. He glanced from your face to your feet, noting how unbothered you were to be tangled with his limbs. He tried to settle his nerves—this was how normal people acted when they were on friendly terms.

Twenty minutes later, you grew bored of the colouring and the position. You pulled your feet back to your chest, startling Jason. He watched you through cautious blinks as you pulled the cushion you’d been lying on into your lap. You fluffed it, then placed it on his legs. You moved around, clumsily, so you could fall into it backwards.

You looked up at Jason once you’d done so. He stared at you, arms rigid by his sides. He didn’t know how to react. Pet you like a dog? Throw you across the room for invading his personal space?

You stared back, curious about this new kind of intimacy with him. He didn’t argue even if he looked stressed. The minutes passed without a word shared, until he stiffly looked back at his novel—although there was no way he could read a single line without screwing up now.

You held your book in front of your face, using it as a shield for your sudden jitters. You weren't quite sure what to do. You felt stupid, staring at the pages that were meant to keep you preoccupied.

An idea came to you. You plucked a pencil from your side and flipped to a blank page. You began to scribble, glancing between the illustration and Jason as you worked on your masterpiece.

Eventually, he called you out for it. “What?” he asked apprehensively, chin tilted downwards.

You sent him a playful smile. “I’m drawing you.”

“You are?” There was a hesitant edge to his voice.

You nodded. He quickly tossed aside his own book to snatch yours.

“Hey!” you cried, trying to steal it back.

However, he laughed—not a snicker, or a snort, or a chuckle—a proper full-bellied laugh. It was rare to hear from him, and you were pissed because the book concealed it.

“This is just a double chin,” he stated, peering over the paper’s edge. Amusement glimmered on his expression.

“That’s my view,” you told him wryly. His mouth twitched again.

He hummed as his fingers scratched the stubble on his jawline. “Alright, my turn,” he said, holding out a hand for the pencil. You gave it to him with a wide smile.

You relaxed back into his lap, eyes drifting from his look of concentration to the rest of the apartment.

He chewed on his lip as you looked at him again. “Hey, van Gogh,” you murmured, nudging his abdomen. “You almost done?”

Jason rolled his eyes, instead choosing to finish his artwork in silence. After another minute, he put the pencil down. When his gaze slanted your way, you felt nervous. How did he see you?

He flipped the book around. You clasped your hands over his so he couldn’t escape and yanked it closer. You squinted, taking in his piece with an intrigued noise.

There were two drawings. The first was a silly scribble of a smushed face, entirely too stretched out to be a real person. Your eyes moved to his hidden behind the page and you scoffed funnily.

He greeted you with a crooked smile. “That’s my view.”

You went back to inspecting. The second sketch was a lot better, although truly, neither of you were artists. But you had to admit, he’d drawn you as nicely and dreamily as he could’ve.

You gave a coy smile as you dropped the book. “I guess it’s good enough to keep.”

He shrugged off the compliment.

You touched his arm. “Sorry I made fun of the cosmic stuff.”

He blinked out of surprise. “S’okay. It’s hard to believe.”

There was another pause before you uttered, “You’re vibrating.”

His face creased with confusion. “Pardon?”

You fumbled beneath the cushions to produce his discarded phone. It was held in front of his face as you repeated, “Vibrating.”

He clucked his tongue as he took the phone. Once he’d read the newest message, his eyes slid from the screen to your face. “Roy wants me to go to the store.”

“Okay.” You dragged yourself from his lap. One palm still rested on his thigh as you got used to being upright again. As you tilted to look at him, you scared yourself with how close you were.

Only a couple inches apart, Jason’s eyes trawled your face. You blinked, wondering if he’d said something during your fright. Your gaze dropped to his throat, watching him swallow beneath the tight muscles there. You saw faint scratch-like scars at this distance.

“You coming?” he asked in a quiet, hoarse tone. You glanced up to meet his uncertain eyes.

You nodded and replied, “Vibrating.”

Jason swiftly pushed you off him as he tried to hide his huff of laughter at your stupidity.

One thing you realised quickly was that Jason didn’t do well in crowds of any sort. The moment you’d come off the street, he’d been nervous and stuck close by. He’d tightened his hoodie around his face to hide from the world. You didn’t think of yourself as a particularly comforting person, but you were apparently good enough for him.

At your insistence, Jason selected a shopping cart to stroll along with. You walked beside him, eyeballing all the colourful things in the supermarket. You stopped to gawp at all the fun cereals you hadn’t grown up with.

“Hey,” he hissed, latching onto your wrist within a few seconds. “Don’t wander off. We’re still in Gotham.”

You turned to him. White curls broke up the unamused expression he wore. You frowned as you breathed through your annoyance. “You Americans are spoiled,” you told him petulantly.

His grip loosened. “What d’you mean?”

“I’ve never seen half of these things.”

Jason fell into meekness at the explanation. “Oh,” he murmured, taking a metaphorical step back. Grocery shopping was an overwhelming experience for him, but for you—maybe it was overwhelming in a good way. “Sorry.”

You shrugged him off but nevertheless returned to his side. You continued on and let the whir of the trolley wheels guide you.

Jason’s tone was gentle as he asked, “You miss it?”

“Novi Grad?” He nodded. You paused, thinking it over. You glanced at him. “Yeah. Some of it.”

“What’s it like?” he probed and you felt his curious eyes observe you as you turned into another aisle.

“Beautiful, but decaying... Stark’s bombs ruined so much of its spirit,” you said dismally. You thought of how poverty had the city in a chokehold. “It was never a rich country, but... it was simpler before all that. Safer.”

Jason gave a glum snort. “So, Gotham two-point-oh.”

You agreed half-heartedly. “You would like the castles,” you said, recalling the grand stone brick and mortar, “by the lake. Perfect for being sad.”

He shot you a smile that you didn’t see. “Sounds like me.”

“I know,” you said with a roll of your eyes, but then you brightened considerably. “You know,” you said as you stepped into his path, “I was arrested at a protest.” You amended quickly, “When I was taken.”

Jason stopped. He looked you up and down theatrically. “Should’a known you’re an activist,” he muttered. Truly, it was like another piece of the mystery unravelled before him. He liked that the spitfire in you had gone to a good cause.

Your eyes narrowed. “Okay, mister vigilante, sir.”

“Were you this annoying before, or did that come after?”

You huffed and spun around. You climbed onto the lower rung of the trolley so he’d have to push you as well as the stacked groceries if he wanted to move. A laugh rumbled through his chest as his arms wound around you to grab hold of the handle bar. His fingers sidled against yours on either side, an unusual warmth between them.

“Pretty admirable getting arrested for the cause, you know,” Jason commented over your shoulder.

You casually shrugged into his nearness. “We were being used as lab rats.” You made a bitter noise. An entire sovereignty of peoples, considered low status—unimportant, throwaways, unworthy of life—subjected to the horror of mankind. By those who thought themselves above ethical law and morality. “We just didn’t know the true extent.”

One of Jason’s thumbs grazed your hand. “Br—uh, Batman—picked me up when I was twelve,” Jason said.

Your jaw snapped, bewildered. “You were fighting crime at twelve?”

He let out a humourless laugh. “I wasn’t even the youngest.” You looked appalled by the proclamation. “Yeah,” he muttered his agreement. He stopped to pull something from the shelf.

“You turned out... okay,” you said, as if testing the words. Jason wasn’t one hundred percent sure that it wasn’t a question.

Nevertheless, a flimsy smile played on his lips. “If you say so,” he replied, returning to the cart.

A stranger rounded the corner then, the first in a while. The contents of their basket rattled by their side. They passed by you without a second glance, however, you felt Jason press closer to your back, hiding from view.

You elbowed him when it was safe again. You heard the soft sound of rustling fabric as he swivelled to check. He began onwards in timid silence.

You strolled down the next aisle, eyes roaming over the shelves. “Stop here,” you told him abruptly. He pulled the cart to a standstill, withholding his protest.

From your perch on the cart, you started exploring the boxes, deciding whether or not you’d like any flavours enough to try one. When it took longer than a few seconds for you to choose, you felt a head droop between your shoulder blades. You leaned a little more Jason’s way, allowing your gravity to shift closer to his own.

He hummed as his arms crept closer experimentally. You felt the slight pressure of them as they squeezed your sides. “Are you going to pick one?” he yawned, not mentioning your distracted state.

“Yeah,” you mumbled. But you didn’t want to, knowing he’d move away. With a soft sigh, you grabbed a box and tossed it into the cart.

It was a surprise that Jason didn’t let go as he instead knuckled at his eye.

“Are you going out tonight?” you asked, concerned.

“Uh, yeah. If Roy gets back in time,” he said, trying not to yawn again.

You twisted around to scowl at him, forcing him back. He looked up at you from beneath his eyelashes, much too flippantly. “Don’t worry your pretty head off. I’m all good.”

“Uhuh.” Curling a finger around the string of his hoodie, you tugged at it in disbelief.

His eyebrows raised. “You done or can we go?”

“Done,” you said with a glare.

He knocked you back against the cart lightly, sporting a smugness that annoyed you more. At least his arms returned to their position around you, you thought indulgently.

You hopped off the cart at the checkout so you could help Jason unload the groceries. However, you realised that something off to the side had distracted him. You followed his gaze beyond the supermarket doors to find only emptiness. He looked back with a furrowed brow, placing more items on the conveyer belt. Again, he glanced over. His fist rubbed his cheek and he looked back at you. He fished out his wallet and passed it over.

“I have to, uh. Phone call,” Jason spoke haltingly. You jerked your chin once, although you very much doubted it. Without another word, he turned and stalked through the exit doors.

You pocketed his wallet, instead paying with your own money. You grabbed the bags as the attendant handed them over and placed them inside the trolley. Ruefully, you wondered how the two of you were going to carry all this home.

“Thank you,” you said once they’d finished the lot. You moved out of the way to wait for Jason.

With nothing better to do, you chose to go through his wallet. You searched for his driver’s licence. You were confused to see that it didn’t have his real name. You thumbed over the card. Other than the false name, it looked legitimate.

You looked up as he strolled towards you, hands in his pockets. The moment he reached you, you were quick to ask, “Why do you have a fake ID?” A horrifying thought struck you. “You’re not underage, right?”

He snorted, snatching his wallet back. “Do I look underage?”

“No...” you said warily. “Are you a wanted fugitive?”

“Jesus, no.” His fingers clutched at his nose. “You really haven’t googled me, huh?”

“No?” You swallowed nervously. “Should I?”

It was his turn to falter. “Uh, I’d appreciate if you didn’t.”

“Why?” you asked, tone weak.

“Look, I—I’m not on the run, alright? It's just about my family.”

“Your bio one?”

“No,” Jason answered sourly. “My Wayne one.”

You nodded slowly, not entirely convinced.

Remembering something you’d tried to do with him a long time ago, Jason stuck his pinky out. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at his outstretched hand. It was the same action he’d made fun of you for.

He huffed when you didn’t immediately agree. “Promise me?”

“But... I want to know,” you said truthfully.

Jason made another aggrieved noise. “You’ll never hear the full story if it isn’t from me.”

Okay, he had you there.“Fine,” you muttered and swiped at his pinky, then crossed your arms.

“I ordered us an Uber,” he said to change the subject, hoping to lessen your glare.

Your weight shifted from one foot to the other as you glanced to the side casually. “Good. You would’ve been on your own otherwise.”

A/N: If you enjoy my work and have the means, consider tipping me on ko-fi!

__________

Tags: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @caswinchester2000, @missxfeels, @thequietchildren, @midnxghtblue, @plantedcats, @darkness-falls-xo, @urminebutidontwantyou, @sweetsaph, @thetiny-hufflepuff

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[bigasswritingmagnet]

Why Wait?

Fandom: Psychonauts Pairing: Helmut/Bob Rating: G Summary: There's no reason the reunion needs to wait until Grulovia! What are psychoportals for if not to allow a man to hold his husband, even if it's only in the mind?

-AO3 link in the notes!-

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Helmut said. “Very festive.”

Bob blinked a few times.

Flowers had bloomed from every vine that wrapped around the struts of the greenhouse. They dangled from the ceiling and up the walls. The distillery was almost completely hidden beneath a cascade of lilacs, the bunches of tiny purple flowers almost overpowering the scent of alcohol.

Bob hadn’t asked them to do it. But then, he hadn’t asked them to get the kid to help him either.

Carefully he sat Helmut down on the floor and shut the door behind him. After a few seconds, the ball jerked forward and began to trundle across the floor, occasionally bonking into furniture.

“Don’t think I don’t see those mushrooms though.”

“If you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you.”

“Their presence bothers me. It’s harshing my groove.” He ran into a chair leg with a hollow clunk. “Ow.”

“Careful,” Bob said, absentmindedly, as he dug through his beard for the tools he’d stuck in there, hanging them in their hooks on his work bench. At Helmut’s wordless grumble, he added “Otto says you should get the hang of it in a day or so.”

“I think he gave me a defective one. This stupid thing handles like a sack of cement.”

“And what does that make you, exactly?”

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” With some difficulty, Helmut maneuvered the ball back around and began to roll towards Bob’s ankles, picking up speed.

Bob waited until Helmut was an inch or so away, and lifted his foot. Helmut, unable to fight his own momentum, shot past Bob and into the dark space beneath a low table bearing an oversized spider plant.

Smiling, Bob approached the table and leaned down, peering into the shadows.

“So, how’d that work out for you?”

“Treachery,” Helmut said, flatly. “Betrayal.”

Bob started to laugh, a deep laugh he felt all the way through his chest. He hadn’t laughed like that since Helmut had died. It felt...good.

“Unbelievable. Fate has stuck me in an oversized hamsterball and do I get sympathy? Understanding? Offers of assistance?”

“Oh, you drama queen,” Bob said, still grinning. The spider plant swung a few of its dangling tendrils under the table and batted Helmut back out and into Bob’s hands.

“No!” Helmut went on, tone growing more melodramatic with every word. “Mockery! Laughter! You jest at my misfortune; my own husband!”

Bob lifted the brain ball to eye level, though Helmut didn’t have eyes at the moment.

“You,” he said, “are ridiculous.”

“It’s nice to hear you laugh,” Helmut said, warmly.

“Feels nice to laugh,” Bob replied.

“We need to hurry up and get my body back, because I don’t know how long I can take not being able to hold you.”

The metaphorical lightbulb went off over Bob’s head.

“Wait here,” he said, setting Helmut down on the workbench and hurrying over to a cabinet.

“Wh- hey! Don’t leave me up here! I’m gonna fall off!”

“You’ll be fine,” Bob said, not really listening.

“What are you even doing over there?”

“Hang on a second,” Bob said. “I know it’s here somewhere, I just don’t know what I did with the damn thing…”

“Did with what? Bobby!”

Bob abandoned the cabinet and moved to the drawers, pulling them open and rifling frantically through twenty years of accumulated junk. He didn’t want to tell Helmut until he found it; didn’t want to get his hopes up if--

“Aha!” Bob’s hand closed around a small rectangle of wood. Feeling a little breathless, he held up his psycho-portal triumphantly.

“Bobby you’re a genius,” Helmut said excitedly, rolling back and forth along the table. Then he stopped, and made a noise as if he was clearing the throat he didn’t currently have. “So,” he said, in a suave sort of voice, “my place or yours?”

Bob chuckled and scooped up the brain ball, settling down on the bed.

“Do you need a minute to clean up? Hide the dirty laundry, wash the dishes?”

“I promise you’ve seen way worse.”

“I believe it,” Bob muttered. He told himself it was only excitement that was making his hands tremble as he opened the lid of the ball. “Ready?”

“And waiting.”

Bob dropped the psycho-portal.

For a moment, everything was bright and loud--colors and music and people cheering and gasoline and fried food and someone shouting his name--and then it was dark. Not total darkness, though. It was a place of stars, with only the music of the stars to be heard.

Bob shook his head, disorientated twice over by the sudden changes.

“Sorry,” said a voice behind him. “I thought this might be a little more appropriate for a dramatic reunion.”

And there he was. The face Bob thought he’d never see again outside of dreams or nightmares; the green eyes that had haunted him for decades staring down at him with a rare solemnity.

They didn’t speak. Here, now, words were small and pale and hopelessly inadequate. What could be said? What words could possibly hope to put true voice to feelings as deep and dark as these?

Helmut’s grip was so tight Bob thought his spine might crack if he wasn’t currently a mental projection. Bob began to tremble, and then to shake, and then he buried his face in his husband’s shoulder.

“At least promise me they’re happy tears,” Helmut said, his own voice thick. Bob choked out something that might have been halfway to a laugh and nodded shortly. “Alright then.”

It took a few minutes to get himself under control but at last Bob managed to tilt his face up to look at Helmut again.

The kiss was even better than the hug, but sure enough, the tears came again.

“Jeez, Bobby, don’t tell me I’m that out of practice,” Helmut said, brushing them away. His own eyes were overbright, glittering in the starlight.

“Hah. No, it’s not that, I just…” Bob fell silent as words failed again.

“I know,” Helmut said. “I know. Me too.”

The second kiss lingered as they held on tight, both feeling as if they were the only people in the universe.

And to each other, in that moment, they were.

Bob became aware of the world shifting around them, of silence being replaced by quiet, touched by the sound of running water and a soft breeze through long grass. When he raised his head, he found they were no longer surrounded by stars. He recognized the place, for all it had the dreamy quality of a mindscape.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” Bob managed to say, his voice shaking just a little, but his smile strong.

“Thought it might be nice to take a trip down memory lane,” Helmut said. “You know, now that I can do that again.”

They settled on the vibrant red grass, arms still tight around each other, watching water like liquid galaxies slide by.

It wasn’t exactly right. Everything had the slightly vague, soft feeling of the mental world. Senses were off, ever so slightly, even in Helmut’s mind, when the man felt the world so closely. Helmut was not as warm as Bob remembered him, his hands were missing their calluses, and neither of them was breathing.

But it was enough. To have Helmut’s arms around him, to hear his voice, to know that he was there and that when Bob opened his eyes in the real world, Helmut would still be there...

It was more than enough.

“Tomorrow, if you want, we can come out here for real,” Bob said. “It’s not quite the same as it used to be, but it’s still a good view.”

“Didn’t Raz say it was a tourist trap now?”

“Nah,” Bob said, “That’s on the other side of the gulch.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to share our spot. Hey--wait, wasn’t the other side of the gulch where you and Otto…?”

“Yup,” Bob said, grimly. “You can get a lovely view of the diner and a parking lot from up there now. Great place to muse on the workings of the universe.”

“My condolences,” Helmut said, gravely. “But let’s be real, you two were never musing on anything. You were just arguing.”

“We were doing both. We were multitasking.”

Helmut laughed, and it was such a wonderful sound that Bob had to look up at him and see that smile again. It was exactly as wonderful as Bob remembered it being.

“I love you,” he said. Words he never thought he’d be able to say again. Helmut smiled, and though his tone was joking, his eyes were an endless ocean of sincerity.

“Huh, no kidding, I love you too. How wild is that?”

“Wild,” Bob agreed, and pulled him down for another kiss.

“Is this going to happen every time I kiss you from now on?” Helmut asked, wiping a tear from Bob’s cheek.

“Dunno,” Bob said. “I think we’re going to need to keep trying and see.”

“Oh well if you insist.”

[xiaoderys]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 (𝐥.𝐣𝐧)

pairing: Football Captain!Jeno x Mean Girl/Cheer Captain!Reader

warnings: smut, going into subspace, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink, cum swallowing, overuse of the word ‘baby’

word count: 2.8K

requested: yes

Everybody knows who you are— student body president, homecoming queen, cheerleading captain; you were the school’s it girl and you had everybody wrapped around your tiny little fingers with just a single look in your eye, but while you had everyone falling on their knees for you, Lee Jeno was not having any of your bullshit. Instead, he went out of his way to avoid you and since Jeno was the school’s hotshot, it came as a surprise to everyone that the infamous Mr. Golden Boy and the school’s most precious darling sweetheart hated each other’s guts.

But what people didn’t know was that behind all this facade you and Jeno both put up for the whole school, you were just a sucker for each other’s touch.

You swore to yourself that you would never even dare lay eyes on anyone from the football team, after everything you’ve experienced from Jeno, you just grew an overbearing hatred towards football players in general and much to your cheer squad’s dismay, your rule applied to them as well. Call it being too harsh but you’re the captain and what you say goes so you would always tell your girls: “Guys on the football team are off-limits. You think it’s cute for cheerleaders and football players to date? Then you’d be glad to know that you’re not the first girl they’ve fucked in the locker rooms.. and definitely not the last. If I find any one of you getting too close with one of those assholes, don’t even fucking dare show your face here ever again.” 

But you’re a hypocrite.

After one too many shots of some cheap alcohol and two horny teenagers at the homecoming games after party, you could only imagine what happened next.

Hands around your waist, body on top of his, tongues fighting for dominance; he tasted like beer and regret. You could’ve stopped it, you could’ve ran away, you could’ve told him no before he was shoving his tongue down your throat and fucking you senselessly on his roommates bed.. you could’ve done so many things to stop all of this before it even started but you didn’t. Because Lee Jeno is a drug and unfortunately for you, you just found your new addiction.

After that night, it became a habit, a ritual for the both of you. After every game or practice, you would meet up in the East building locker room and he would rail you until you were too sore to go to cheer practices the next day. Not your proudest moments but it’s just as if there wasn’t enough air in the room to fill your lungs whenever you were with him.

Now, it’s 4pm and you’re kneeled on the floor in between Jeno’s thighs as he guided your head up and down his thick length. You swirled your tongue around the slit, licking all the way from the base to the tip which resulted in unholy words and gutteral moans to leave his mouth. All the praises and lewd sounds escaping his lips were going straight to your core and you were so painfully aroused by now. You wanted to reach one hand down to relieve yourself while getting Jeno off but you know that’s just gonna cost you a mind blowing orgasm from him so you chose not to.

“Fuck, baby, just like that- shit!” head thrown back, fingers laced in your hair, sweat coating his well-defined abs; seeing him like this really makes you forget about all your built up frustrations towards him “Please keep going” his breathy whines sounded so angelic yet sinful at the same time.

He pulls your head up by your hair forcing you to make eye contact with him, lips still wrapped around his swollen cock “God you’re so pretty like this” he smiles “It’s almost as if you were made just for it” his features softened, admiring the sight before him, his adorable baby on her knees, teary-eyed, mascara running down her flushed cheeks, and mouth full of cock, Jeno swore the view alone could make him come right then and there but he had more plans for you.

“That feels so good, baby, keep doing that, fuck!” he groans, encouraging you to take his whole length until it hit the back of your throat. Jeno met each bob of your head with a thrust which had you gagging around him and that only added to his pleasure.

The sight of your swollen red lips wrapped around his thick cock so perfectly was enough to make him go feral so it wasn’t long before Jeno was bucking his hips up into you “Shit, I’m gonna come” he tightened his grip on your hair forcing you to go down on him faster and after a few more pumps, he was climaxing and you being the good girl that you are, swallowed everything he could give you, feeling the thick, hot liquid running down your throat. You licked up and down his length to collect all the cum that you didn’t catch, not letting a single drop go to waste then you stuck your tongue out to show him that you’ve swallowed it all. “Fuck that’s so hot” he growled.

You continued to suck his tip, trying to get as much out of him as possible but he removed you from his cock, pulling you up to straddle his lap “Come here, baby” he smashed your lips together and he could taste himself on you. He thought he actually tasted kinda nice

“You want my dick inside you, pretty girl?” he mumbles against you breathlessly and you try to nod, replying with a tiny ‘yes, please’ and he hovers you above his throbbing dick, spitting on his fingers and bringing them to your pussy so he can prep you because he knows your little cunt needs all the prepping it can get to take his fat cock. “You’re this wet just from sucking dick?”

“Just. Want. You. Inside. Please!” he chuckles at your neediness, fascinated by how he could have the school’s infamous snobby it girl drooling over his cock and all he had to do was whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re on the pill, right?” you nod at him and he bunched your skirt up to your waist, aligning himself with your heat as he slowly sunk you down on his length. 

No matter how wet you were or how many times Jeno fucked you, you still couldn’t seem to get used to his size, squirming as soon as he entered you. Small whimpers were falling from his lips due to oversensitivity and you could’ve sworn they were the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard in your life.

“S-so big! Feels so good!” Jeno’s a simple guy, feed his ego, tell him how big he is and how good he makes you feel and he’ll give you a good fuck.

He knew your body so well and found your sweet spot right away which had you almost screaming at the top of your lungs, thank god this area was secluded or else, anyone walking by outside would definitely know what the both of you were up to “Right there! ahghh please!” you squealed and he held your waist, thrusting up to meet your heat “Right here?” he asks, giving a particularly hard thrust, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Yes! oh my god!” you threw your head back in daze, leaving Jeno more room to mark his baby’s pretty neck. He sucked purple marks on your skin that would definitely be a pain in the ass to cover up tomorrow but that was the least of your problems right now.

“Please go faster!” you needily whine and to be honest, who was he to decline your request? He tightened his grip on your waist and guided you faster up and down his length.

“Fuck! Come here” he pulled your face closer to him and once again put your lips together. He could tell you were close by the way you were clenching around him and as usual, he was right “G-gonna come, Jen, can I please come?!” you plead against him and you could feel his lips form a smirk “Of course, you can, baby. Come for me” that’s all it took for you to moan uncontrollably and release all your juices around Jeno’s cock.

But you noticed that his movements weren’t getting any slower, in fact, they were getting faster and faster and faster.

You laced your fingers in his hair, gripping them tightly “W-what are you doing?” you whimper “I’m fucking you, baby, what does it look like I’m doing?” he growls “B-but I already came!” you squealed and he pushed your body to lay you down on the bench, hooking your legs around his waist as he hovers above you, face inches away from yours “You don’t mind doing it a few more times for me, right baby?” he stills for a second, waiting for assurance. His features softened and holy fuck, you swore you couldn’t breathe. You shook your head with wide eyes leaving him with a grin “That’s a good pup” he kissed the tip of your nose before he continued to relentlessly pound into you.

His tip repeatedly brushed against your sweet spot, leaving you gasping for air and clinging onto his body like your life depended on it “Jeno..“ you sob, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge again.

“Fuck! How are you this pretty?” He brought one of his hands to your face, removing all the strands of hair covering it. Seeing you like this, drove him insane and all he could do was chuckle at your wrecked state “Look at you, all desperate and whiny under me. I wonder how your little cheer squad would react if they find out that their snobby little captain who talks big game about hating football players is just a little whore for me?” you couldn’t even reply to tell him otherwise because you both knew he was right, he was always fucking right and you hated it.

You could feel your next orgasm approaching, you try to warn him yet nothing but incoherent words and cries of his name fell from your mouth “J-jeno plea-hmnngg!” He watched you intently, brows furrowed, mouth agape and tears falling on the sides of your face “What is it, baby? Use your words and tell me what you want” he taunts “I’m so close!” you gripped the back of his head and pulled him closer “Don’t hold back, doll. Show me how good I make you feel.” You felt your walls tighten around him once again and you were cumming for the second time.

You thought he would stop there but it still wasn’t enough for Jeno. He loved seeing your flustered face; your whines and pants were like music to his ears, it would be a shame if he stopped now.

The sweat forming on his forehead was dripping down onto you, his thrusts weren’t letting up and you couldn’t think straight. Your mind was all fuzzy and all you could think about was Jeno.

He had you writhing underneath him, cock still deep inside your sensitive pussy, pounding into you mercilessly even after having come two times already.

Your whole body was shaking, you could only take so much. You let out cries and whines yet it only seemed to inflate Jeno’s ego and drive him to go faster and harder. “J-Jeno! I can’t take it anymore!” you thrashed under him but his big, strong arms held you in place “Yes you can, baby, just one more” He knew your body better than anyone else, he knows when you’ve had enough and he knows you can take more-- he knows you want more. “Just one more, okay?”

He continued to plunge his cock deeper and deeper until you were nothing but a whiny, sobbing mess. The overwhelming pleasure filled your senses. You held onto him tighter as soon as you felt another high approaching. Your mind was all over the place and you felt like you were gonna black out. You dug your nails into his biceps and they were sure to leave marks. “Too much, too much, too much!” you chant like a mantra “Just a little more, baby” he tries to reassure you but you were feeling dizzy at this point and his words almost stopped making sense.

You could feel every vein on his cock grazing your walls so deliciously. Every praise and groans that fell from his lips were the only things you could comprehend. “You’re doing so well, baby.. almost there” Your eyes were now rolling to the back of your head, your body stopped shaking and you were in a state of pure bliss, you felt dizzy and your vision was slowly fading to black “J-jeno…” you mumble “Yes, baby, you’re doing so so good, stay with me, just a little more” All you could think about was Jeno and the overwhelming pleasure from his cock rubbing against your tight walls and right at that exact moment, it felt like nothing in the world mattered but the both of you.

You felt spurts of cum being released inside you and you so almost passed out “Fuck, baby. you feel so good” he was panting and kept thrusting sloppily into you “That felt so damn good, baby” as he was coming down from his high, he noticed that you weren’t responding so he cupped your cheeks “Good job, baby, you took me so well” you were still deep into subspace and Jeno tried to be gentle with you as much as he could “You’re okay, baby. I’m here. Just breathe, okay?” He tucked the messy strands of hair covering your face and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

He pulls out ever so slowly, trying his best not to hurt you. He watched his cum drip out of your cunt and he swore he almost came for the third time “God look at that, my cum’s dripping from your tiny pussy. One of these days, I’m gonna have to buy you a plug so you can keep everything I give you inside” he slowly collected both of your juices mixed together on his fingers and hovered it in front of your lips “Open up, baby” you still couldn’t understand anything and it took you a while to register what was happening but as soon as you did, you opened up your mouth and started sucking on his fingers “Does it taste good?” you nod frantically and kept mumbling incoherent words which made Jeno coo at you.

He took his fingers away from your mouth and you whined “m-more please! more!” Jeno chuckled at how needy you were but he didn’t want to push you way beyond your limits ”You’ve already done enough, baby. You can calm down now, okay? just breathe” a few minutes pass by of Jeno trying to bring you back into reality and you finally calmed down.

He pampered you with kisses and praises, making sure you were okay after coming down from your state of pure ecstasy. “You did so well, baby, I’m so proud of you” he smiles sweetly as he wipes your mascara stained cheeks with his thumb “Thank you, Jen” you murmur, trying not to look him in the eye. “What’s wrong?” he asks, turning your head to face him “Nothing” Jeno could tell something was bothering you but he just shrugs it off because he knows your relationship was strictly physical and you would never open up to him anyway.

“Okay, well, I need to get going now,” he gets off of you “I still need to help Jaemin prepare for the party tonight” you tried to stand up but your legs felt like jelly so you stumbled a little but thankfully, Jeno was there to catch you “Woah, careful there. Do you need help getting home?” Yes, you do, but you weren’t gonna tell him that “No, I’ll be fine” you shook your head with a small smile.

“You’re still coming later, right?” you fixed your clothes and tried to collect your thoughts and you shot him a confused look “Hmm?” he chuckled, clearly your mind was still in shambles from earlier “the party tonight” your body still felt sore but you just couldn’t say no “Oh yeah, of course, how could I miss it?” He smiled at you, throwing his shirt back on “Good, you know where my room is, I’ll see you again at 7?”

You watched as he tried to tidy himself up and collect his belongings, thoughts running around your head, wanting to tell him so badly to stay and just talk for a while, to sort things out between the two of you because god knows you could only contain your emotions for so long, but instead, you just nod at him and smile “I’ll see you at 7” he returns your smile and walks out, leaving you there to mentally curse yourself for not having the courage to tell him how you feel but this is what you signed up for. You made your bed and now you have to lay on it.