#both suck it green boy and the betrayal are two now ^-^

[gamblersdoll]

cw: semi cheating trope, cucking, doggy style, masturbation (m) spitting, katsuki being really mean in this one, slapping.

this felt dirty and wrong, izuku thought. the way he felt about you was greater than his past crush for ochaco, yet here he was. the obsessive and adoration he had for you was no match, but here he was.

here he was pressing down on katsuki’s head as he went down on izuku, him slightly gagging on his length and pushing away. “fuck– you getting too rough, deku.” he spits, glaring up at him. “calm down this time.”

he nods, eyes filled with lust and his judgement clouded. he didnt notice the two missed calls you had given him, nor the four missed messages. his fingers trail through katsuki’s head, yet his balls lurched when katsuki licked his lips.

“zuku, what are you—“ you say, opening the door and looking at your phone. until your eyes meet the two, katsuki on his knees while izuku sits on his bed, manspreading.

both of their hearts thump, a cold nervous sweat on both of their faces and hands as you just stand there, bewildered. your heart clenches, feeling sadness, but more of disappointment and rage filling your veins.

“baby—“ izuku starts, but gets cut off by you.

“nah nah, fuck you!” you shout, turning around and slamming the door. it had to be about nine in the evening, so everyone was already downstairs chilling out.

it took you about a month or two to settle your nerves, feeling rage and betrayal from him just getting his dick sucked from his childhood friend.

a friend who also just so happen to be friends with you, surprisingly. thats what threw you off, katsuki just so suddenly became friends with you and wasn’t completely an ass to you. you at first thought nothing of it, but now it made sense.

your mind stops thinking, your ears and eyes being drawn to the message ping on your phone. izuku had texted, asking to meet in his dorm to talk.

should you even fucking bother? maybe. let hear what this bitch had to say.

“so— first i want to say im so sorry.” he starts, hands on his bouncing knees and eyes darting around. he picked at his nails, katsuki having to pull his hands apart. that only added salt to the wound, because what the fuck was he doing here?

“and why does bakugou have to be here for this?” you ask, growing impatient and tapping your foot. he looks up to your eyes, the glare you gave was mean, hurting his heart.

the “because he has involvement with this— its not what you think!” he quickly says, hands up in defense and looking to you and katsuki.

“so..”

“uhum–“ he tried, swallowing thickly and takes a deep breath. “so.. you remember when i told you i was bi, right? before we got together?” he starts, knee bouncing faster harder. you nod, eyes raised in a “yeah, no shit.” look. “well.. kacchan and i had been talking since we made up, and we started to like you as well.”

youre feet stop tapping, heart stopping and you start a glare. “hold on! and we started to like you and it kinda separated us for a couple weeks, thats when me and you were first dating and we had that big fight that you had to separate.” he rambles, katsuki flicking him to stay on topic.

“and uh, me and kacchan made up again after you both became friends and we wanted to ask you in person if you could give a threeway a shot!”

you just stare, looking at the both of them and watching katsuki just lean back. that made your blood boil, the way hes just acting all casual.

katsuki notices, manspreading himself and staring right back at you. “if you got something to say, say it.” he states, testing to see who and what you were.

you say nothing, biting your tongue and looking back to the green haired boy. “that’s absolutely bullshit and you know it.” you say, finding that shit unbelievable and quite frankly, offensive. “you mean to tell me that you both were fucking on the down low and then i just peaked both of your interest, you got together with me and all of a sudden you want a three way?”

“aint that what he just said?” katsuki finally speaks and chimes in, eyebrow raised.

you feel like a snapping point, like your ready to reach across and slap the fuck out of him for even speaking to you at all. “you can shut the fuck up, baku—“

at that point, he had heard enough between you and izuku. he reaches out, grabbing you by your throat and giving a slight choke. your thighs quiver, it being an instant trigger for you to become a mess.

“kacc—!”

“nah, you took too long with your fuckin’ delivery.” he says, hand groping a breast and leading you to the bed. “youre the one who told me this the shit she likes, so i’m fuckin’ her.”

and if those words werent a trigger for you, it was for izuku. his cock grows hard, his shorts becoming a restriction to his length and he groans.

katsuki’s lips crash onto yours, him effortlessly taking a hand and freeing himself from his boxers and tapping it against your skin. “you want it, dont you?” he teases, ripping the shorts off of your skin and rubbing circles into your clit.

his hand pries open your mouth, his eyes lowering. “open.” he says, curling his lips and spitting into your wet cavern. he looks over to izuku, izuku already freeing himself and spitting on his own length. “you see that there?” he points, whispering in your ear.

“thats what he does when he thinks about me fucking you like some common whore.” he reveals, chuckling in your ear. “he been waitin’ for this, to see me fuck you relentless and he watch.” he says again, slapping your clit and pinching it.

“zuku—“ your voice tries, sounding hoarse and katsuki focusing on your face now. he lands a somewhat hard slap to it, forcing you to look only at him.

“dont look at him, why are you looking at him? whos about to fuck you?” katsuki presses, fingers digging their way into your walls. “huh? whos about to fuck this pussy hm?”

you stutter, the intrusion being too much and you claw at his skin. “katsuki! shit—“

“yeah, thats right. im the one fucking you, not him. he assures, fingers finished from curling inside onto your gspot and forcing themselves into your mouth. “you dont get to cum, yet, either.”

you suckle on his fingers, eyes rolling back from the sheer force of his demands and tossing. he flips you over, face in the mattress and him grabbing you by your hips. shit, could you do this? doggy you cant even handle with izuku.

you try to look up, only catching a glimpse of izuku fisting his cock and his face flushed.

you squeal, feeling the heat from katsuki’s tip slip inside of your walls and hitting that spot already. the spot that hadnt been touched in however long you and izuku hadnt talked. “fuck, i can see what you mean by her being a tight space.” katsuki groans, hand gripping a hip and shoulder blade.

he starts immediately thrusting at such a violent place, but you knew he was going to be like that. “some fucking girlfriend you fuckin’ had!” katsuki laughs, his hips snapping into yours and balls slapping at your clit. “just some fucking whore that needed a good dick!”

you moan into the mattress, drooling against it and eyes rolling harder to your skull. you clawed at the sheets, hearing izuku lose himself in his fist as he watched his fuck buddy, his childhood best friend fuck his pretty girlfriend.

you choke, his cock angled at a different spot that had never been used or touched. “oh shit, you havent fucked her this way either, huh?” he grins, his hips angling themselves better and he spits onto the curve of your back. “yeah? he doesnt fuck you good like i do, huh?” he asks, a harsh slap to your ass.

“no— no no fuck!” you moan, going stupid from the intrusion, the sheer force of his hips alone making you go dumb. your tummy clenched, feeling your clit throb more than anything until it hurt.

“fuck, shes about to cum, deku.” he growls in a praise, his palms pressing down on your lower back as he slams his bodyweight into the thrusts.

you squeal, that coil tightening and hearing izuku lose himself in his own orgasm at the same time. you had missed hearing him cum, you both usually always have a simultaneous orgasm together at the same time.

“cum in her— breed her pussy please, kacchan.” he pleads, his hand shines with his seed and sweat that came from fucking his cock.

katsuki loses himself in a matter of time, approximately two minutes after you both had came and it was all because of how good you felt and that izuku just wanted to watch you get fucked by his childhood friend. his own rival.

[blitzgamev]

Happy four hundred and sixty months in limbo ghostbur :D

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[damiano-mylove]

When The World Knows Peace

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x afab!reader

Wc: 1.6k

Cw(s): SMUT, unprotected sex, sex in a forest, sappy love, oral sex (reader receiving), prolly typos (tell me if it sucks ass)

Summary: The world may know a fleeting moment of peace when lovers embrace

Masterlist

Many a moon-many a generation- had passed before the lovers met under the moonlight once more. Their souls had been connected since the dawn of time, always drawn to each other, always in yearning for the other, and never complete lest the souls find each other once more.

It is said that their very souls were once one, until the Gods' tore them from one another; to damn the lovers to an eternal plight to once again be whole.

Their tale had existed in many different tongues, a legend of time, a legend of persistence. Twas for naught, as the children whose ears the tale fell upon laughed - for, how true may true love really be?

Yet, each time the souls rejoin, the onlookers-whom had grown from the children who laughed- were marked as indisputably mistaken. Only fools may look upon the souls intertwined and still beg the question how true may true love really be?

In the expanse of the many eons, the souls had taken many a form; each with a different face, doctrine, and colour. Be that as it may, none were to be more beautiful in the eyes of one half than their counterpart. Each visage had the other swooning at first sight, feeling the everlasting pull of fate to their other half.

There were lifetimes where the clock ticked much too speedily, and the lovers were once more damned to a life of separation and settling.

But not this one.

Now, as the lovers lay in the forest, they loved, they loved, and they loved, as if this may be the last lifetime they may spend together.

~

"Happy three years, Baby," Jake whispered to you. A deep blush spread from your sternum to the upper-most tips of your ears. Somehow, despite having been in love with him for three years now, even the simplest of words from Jake could have the blood rushing through your veins at mach speed. The beautiful boy beside you chuckled, brushing his rough thumb over your cheek. "Awe, you still get all flustered around me."

"I'm going to punch you in the mouth," you laughed, placing you hand over his. Jake smiled contently, gazing at your beguiling face. "Y'know how we went to that really fancy restaurant on our first year?" Jake nodded. "And to Vancouver on our second?"

"If this is about how our third is low budget and-"

"I like this one the best," you finished with a snicker. Jake rolled his eyes with a certain sass.

"So we spent all that money only for you to be happier with a blanket and a forest?" He grinned. You laughed, propping your head up with one hand, resting the other on his chest. Jake smiled up at you, "Well I'm glad my idea is the best one."

Leaning lower, you brushed your nose across his, gaining a low chuckle from your counterpart. "You're an asshole," is all you said before closing the gap between your lips and his.

While your one hand traveled up to cup the lower part of Jake's face, his hand came over and rested upon your side. Still, you shivered at the touch, his fingertips seeming to strike lightning to each cell in your body.

"Baby, I love you - you know that, yeah?" Jake mumbled, breaking the kiss for a fraction of a second.

You couldn't suppress the smile. "I know that, Jakey. I've always known - just like you've always know of my love for you."

"I would not wish any companion in the world but you," he spoke lowly.

"The Temptress. Slick."

Jake came back up to rejoin your lips, for he could never satiate the need of your own upon his. The overwhelming feeling of passion engulfed you both, bathed in the light of the Pale Lady Moon above, while shrouded by the dark green of the foliage.

Pushing you back on the blanket, Jake deepened the kiss so that there may be no doubt of his love for you. The feeling of utmost devotion was palpable to even the animals passing by.

Grasping the ever-so soft locks of his hair, your fingers got lost in the maze of his scalp, bringing him infinitely more close. Jake's hands roamed your body as if he were savouring the moment, though this was not the first nor the last he'd ever caress your sweet form. One hand drifted from the curvature of your frame to lift your thigh, effectively wrapping your leg around his waist.

The tight prison of Jake's jeans brushed against your own as you could feel the warmth of arousal dampening your underwear. With a small tug on the roots of his hair, Jake groaned, relishing in the pleasure just your simple touch could bring him.

For a moment, you broke the kiss, as for both you and Jake to strip your shirts. The cool night air nipped at your skin, but you could practically imagine steam rolling off the two of you. Jake began to kiss from your jaw, to your clavicle, leaving the smallest bites and the sloppiest kisses down the territory of your neck. The hands fondled your newly exposed chest, making your nails drag down his back when he began to pinch and twist one of your nipples with his forefinger and thumb.

"Jesus, Jakey," you sighed in pleasure.

Your comment only spurred the guitar player further, becoming more rough with your breasts. He opted to attach his lips to your chest, while beginning to toy with your unoccupied nipple. His teeth grazed your tender skin, making you putty in the palm of his hand.

"You torture me, y'know," you respired as Jake began to make his trail further down your torso. The lowly laughter of Jakey only sent vibrations from your stomach to the spot he was most anxious to meet.

His dark eyes met yours, looking at you in the most sinful way. "It'd be no fun if I didn't." As he spoke, his fingers undid the button and zipper of your jeans, removing them from your legs entirely, to join with your shirts, in a pile long forgotten. The pressure you felt against your core was still clothed by your soaked underwear, making your boyfriend hum, "You're always so wet for me."

"And you're always rock hard for me," you responded, letting your calf graze his raging erection. Jake smiled as he came into connect with your clit, sending a shiver up your spine. You couldn't resist the low moan that came from your lips, "Please, Jakey."

"As you wish."

With a swift snap, your panties were removed from you, leaving you fully exposed to a man you fully trusted. He leaned further down, letting his warm breath fan your weeping heat. Flattening his tongue, he collected your juices on his tongue, reveling in your sweet taste. You let out a groan as Jake began lapping up your arousal with his tongue, having it like ambrosia.

"You taste amazing," he whispered. His tongue came into contact with your clit; abusing the bundle of nerves while his fingers found home inside of you. The sounds you made were pornographic as Jake decided to begin sucking your sensitive spot.

It wasn't far after that you could feel the nerves begin to collect in the pit of your stomach. The fingers that carded in his hair became unorganized, and Jake knew that was his sign to stop.

You gave him a look of betrayal as he began undressing the rest of himself. "Tortuous."

"As wonderful as you taste, Baby," Jake said, coming back on top of you. He tilted your head with his fingers gently, leaning in closer. "You know I love it when you cum on my cock. Who am I to deprive you of that pleasure?"

"God, you're so right."

You attacked his lips feverishly as Jake began to slowly fill you to the brim. The kiss stopped you from making too loud of a sound, but it was unavoidable.

His thrusts were slow and methodical, finding your g-spot. Once the soft tissue was found, Jake began ensuring he hit it every time. With every hitch in your breath and every vibration sent down his throat, Jake came closer and closer to his own undoing.

"Jakey, I'm really - ah - really close," you whimpered.

"Me too. I'm right behind you," he grunted, his thrusts becoming less and less methodical, yet more and more animalistic.

The bundle of nerves in your stomach finally burst, causing your legs to spasm and your walls to clench around the cause that was buried deep inside. Feeling the wave of orgasm wash over you, Jake was quick to follow, shooting his warm seed deep inside of you.

After a few more weak thrusts, Jake slipped out of you, flopping next to you on the blanket. You looked over at him, but Jake was already looking at you.

"Even after three years, you can still fuck me like no one else," you laughed. Jake busted a ragged smile as his chest heaved, trying to absorb every bit of oxygen he could get.

"I'll never get tired of you, Y/n," he told you. You smiled, getting bashful again. "Even when we're old and grey, I'll be right by your side, still taking you to plays and still playing you every song you want to hear."

"I'd want nothing more."

The two of you joined for one more kiss, this one oozing with passion and love. And for a moment, the world was still, and all that mattered was this moment.

~

The Gods let it be so, that when the souls shall be connected once more, enthralled in the other's embrace, the world would know peace, if not just for a fleeting moment.

[fishstyx]

“put the maid outfit on.”

featuring. sub!nagito komaeda x fem!reader

wc. 2.2k

genre. smut

tw. nsfw, penetration (pegging), orgasm denial/edging, praise kink, mild (mild!) toxic masculinity

synopsis. peg nagito 2021 + everyone’s favorite e-boy trend.

“You really think I look good in this..?” 

Your jaw slackens as Nagito materializes in the doorway, fingers fiddling with the hem of his skirt. His shoulders hunch over and his legs bend at the knee, but if he’s trying to make himself smaller, it does little to obscure your view. The costume fits him so well, corset detailing and silk satin bows lining his midriff, white ruffle trim splayed out against his wrists and thighs. Flouncy frills flare from his shoulders, jet puffed sleeves rounding out his sharper edges and broader sides. A pink flush creeps across his cheeks when you fail to respond, teeth locking his bottom lip in place like he’s trying to keep himself from saying anything more.

“I think you look great in it!” 

You clasp your hands together in an attempt to ward off your trance and he cracks a smile in spite of himself, relief washing over his features—but your next words have him standing stick straight. “It makes me feel like I should dress you up more often.” 

Suddenly his brows are threaded with vexation, Mary Janes clacking across the floorboards as he makes his way towards you.

“Please don’t joke about that. Even I take some pride in my manhood,” he pouts, somewhat unconvincingly. “But as long as you’re holding to your end of the deal—“

“And whatever deal could you be talking about?” you ask ever so sweetly, lashes batting away all too knowingly. He stiffens at your feigned ignorance, legs knocking together when you tilt your head pointedly. 

“...You know what deal.” 

Nagito averts his gaze, though unable to escape your own, hands clutching at the lacy material as he sucks in a sharp breath. “The deal we made… where I put this outfit on…” You wait patiently, silent stare urging him to finish the sentence.  “...and you pound my unworthy hole into oblivion.”

“Oh? And what exactly am I going to pound you with?”

However fake your play-pretend innocence, the curiosity in your eyes is very much real, blazing with the vehement desire to hear him say it aloud. The remaining shred of his so-called dignity is slashed to pieces, the hopefulness in your voice too compelling to defy.

“My favorite toy. Please, mess me up with it.” Nagito eyes you nervously, expecting rejection or derision or snide, heart fluttering when he gets only an warm smile in return. “The dildo that I can’t live without. I want it—I need it so bad it hurts,” he continues in a near whisper, but it’s good enough for you. You pull him in immediately, your chin nestling itself in the crook of his neck as your lips come to rest at the shell of his ear.

“Such a good boy, using your words so properly.” He shudders against you as you trace the fabric where it lies snug against his waist, mesmerized by the words of encouragement that spill from your lips. 

“I’m gonna make you see stars.”

Nagito practically bursts with anticipation as you snake your fingers up his skirt, unmoving from the spot where you pushed him onto the bed. With bated breath he lets you kiss up his inner thighs—lets you because normally he wants to do all the work, wants to be your little joyride fuck toy, wants you squirming under his touch. It’s all he can do just to watch, cock already twitching from how good it feels, how utterly starved he’s been of hands besides his own between his legs.

You push at his thighs, pressing them far apart for easy access, chaste kisses becoming damp squeezes as you traverse up the length. A silent smirk tugs at your lips as he throws his head back, the tent beneath his apron growing taller by the second. You palm it instinctively, rubbing circles through the fabric and inviting blood to his sensitive member.

But it’s more of a distraction than anything else, your other hand uncapping the bottle of lube with skill, lathering itself up with ease. Nagito pays it no mind, instead drinking in how you fondle him with eerie similarity to the most despicable of his favorite fantasies. So when a lone finger begins to circle at his entrance, he reels with an unexpected jolt, back arched like a cat. You waste no time in sinking a digit inside, sinful groans following one after another.

And then you’re pumping him with two fingers, swirling them in tandem and scissoring them apart a knuckle deep, then another. He’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting the maddening urge to move on his own, to just take the reins and ram you inside of him. He’s already coursing with the need for something more substantial, and it’s obvious that he’s ready to take additional girth.

“Used to me already?” you ask, more statement than question. Nagito hesitates before nodding, sheepishness written into the slow bob of his head. “You’ve been playing with this lonely hole behind my back, haven’t you?” But he can’t bring himself to confirm or deny it, the way he peers back at you answer enough.

You reach for the harness in turn, untangling the heaps of straps right before him, his dildo of choice following soon after. You snap the towering thing into place with a satisfying click, swaying your hips as you guide the thigh straps to their final resting place. The fit is snug, belt of the strap just about digging into your flesh—but not quite—and you turn your back to add the finishing touches.

You’re dripping with lube when you face him again, glossy slick accentuating every vein, every bulge that graces your makeshift cock. You chuckle at the way his legs are spread already, the way he’s waiting on you with a look that says take me now, hold me down and fuck me silly.

But he’s ahead of himself as usual, and it’s inevitable that he chokes back a whimper when you disappear inside of him. He gives the prospect of pain no heed, silently pleading for you to move, and you click your tongue in distaste.

“Breathe,” you command, waiting for him to loosen. Green eyes shift expectantly from the strap-on to your own, an exasperated whine starting to form at his lips, but he knows his place and does as you say.

Nagito complies with the rise and fall of his chest, evidenced by the soft sway of a centerpiece bow. His muscles begin to relax even as you’re splitting him in two, and you angle your hips up in preparation. The tip of your silicone cock has barely brushed against his sensitive gland, yet it already has him quivering, hungry for more.

It’s in the middle of a deep breath when you finally deem him ready, doubling back before bucking into that same spot that has his jaw dropping and his eyes squeezing shut. A shaky exhale stutters from his wide-open mouth and he melts into a panting mess as you find your pace.

“Good boy. Such a good boy, making all that noise for me,” you repeat, chant-like words a melody to his ears.

“Y-you really think so?” he struggles to get out, little mewls escaping him even as he speaks. “Even when I’m… being so… selfish?”

“Shh, don’t say things like that. I feel it too, baby boy,” you’re quick to say—and you’re not lying, far from it in fact. The hilt of the dildo rocks against your clit each time your hips meet, the pulsating pressure tempting you to plunge even deeper. And with the face that he’s making, all reddened cheeks and parted lips, how could you not?

You’re snapping into him now, reveling in the challenge posed by the sheer length of his choice toy. It’s hard work with the way he clamps around you, but the tingle it shoots up your spine and the squelch it sends to your ears are well worth the effort. The marvelous stretch draws a throaty “f-fuuuuck” out of him, the god-sent sensation making him throb all the more.

But with every plunge you take, you’re met with the bounce of his pretty pink cockhead, a rebounding reminder of what you’ve left unattended. His neglected shaft looms in stark contrast to his black and white garb, breath hitching when you finally decide to wrap around it. Your movements are painfully slow to begin with, building up the pressure before picking up in speed, and he keens his dissatisfaction until you’re jerking him off to the same brutal rhythm of your rolling hips.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” he cries, locks of hair cascading past his pleated headband as you press into a spot so sweet he thinks he just might come undone; but you have other plans in mind. Your movements slow before coming to a lurching halt, the absence of stimulation quick to dampen the mood.

“Good boys cum when they’re told to,” you say, but the explanation does little to appease him. A look of disappointment leaps to his face, his lips pursed in dismay—or perhaps it’s betrayal.

He looks so disheveled like this, staring at your open palm like maybe his wordless begging can coax you back into stroking him. Hazy eyes glaze over, tufts of hair spilling every which way as he sits himself up, but you aren’t done with him yet.

It’s simple to redirect his movement, his weak limbs no match for your own as you turn him over so he’s kneeling on the bed. He tries to look back but you push him down by the neck, hiking his skirt up as you position yourself behind him. His ass is raised in the air without so much as being told, and you align with his fluttering hole before breaking him in again.

You were right to make him wait; he’s shaking in excitement now, tense with amplified arousal as his knees buckle underneath you. Bottoming out is so much easier like this, your pistons devoured whole and spat back out with each and every thrust. You draw back slowly only to bury yourself once more, repeating the motion until his moaning runs incoherent, completely wracked with shivering pleasure. You can’t tell if he’s humping the mattress, grinding against you, or both, but he’s reaching his climax again and the both of you know it.

“Can I finish now? Pretty please?” Nagito asks, so strained and so breathily that you nearly miss it. “Please, it hurts so good, please please please, I’m head over heels for your cock!”

The thought of stopping again is too cruel for you to give even a moment’s consideration, so you pin his wrist against his back and collect a fistful of hair in your hand before leaning in to award him with the magic words:

“Go ahead, then. Cum for me.”

You slam into him as he rides through the peak of his bliss, squirming in wretched ecstasy as he collapses under his own weight. You can only imagine what kind of expression he’s making with his head face-first in the bedsheets, the kinds of shapes his mouth is forming when you pull his hair back like this. Violent spasms render Nagito otherwise immobile, unable to move of his own accord. He’s going completely slack, quivers shorting until you wonder if he passed out from the aftershock.

It comes as a surprise when you notice him barely holding on, eyelids threatening to shut close when you pull him into your arms. He looks like a cheap whore in that kitschy uniform of his, thick white cum smeared all over the black fabric. Beads of drool streak his chin but he’s too fucked-out to notice, let alone care.

“You did so well for me,” you whisper as Nagito nuzzles into your chest, drowsy and spent. I don’t deserve this at all, he thinks, a dull echo reverberating in the back of his mind.

“I’m so proud of you,” you coo as you stroke his cheek with your thumb. Proud of what? My greediness? My utter uselessness?

But he’s too exhausted to fight your praises, self-doubt dwindling away to nothing as you hum your approval. He snuggles against your palm without even realizing it, subconscious of his mind chasing after contact with your bare skin. In his docile state, you can’t help but to hold him close, intimate proximity sating the needs of which he’s too adamant to admit aloud.

But all good things must come to an end, and eventually, your adrenaline dies down, too. You feel as though you’re a husk of yourself, curling up beside him and letting the fatigue tide you over. As much as you’d love to watch your symbol of hope fall asleep, your eyelids feel so, so heavy now, and you expend the last of your energy on little kitten kisses that trail up his temple and dot down his nose. Your collective consciousness fades away until all that’s left is the syncing of your breath, a singular flow of air where you lay wrapped around one another.

He’ll never admit just how good it felt to be pampered this way, but you’ll never regret taking care of him.

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[himbowashington]

Please, Daddy?

NSFW: Smut Loki x Mobius

It begins quite innocuously, things had been tense between them for a while but something was different about this time they could both feel it, settled into their bones.

Mobius dealt with the feeling by knocking his walking pace up a notch or two forcing Loki, despite being the taller of the two, to struggle behind him. He exhaled deeply trying to clear his mind focus on the variant. Don’t get distracted.

“Slow down!” Loki calls forcing Mobius to face him by stopping his stride. Just as Mobius is about to turn to start walking again, Loki pushes him running for the elevator door which is trying to close. Mobius thinks many things, the chief one of them being, that bastard.

Another thing he notices is that Mobius is faster than he looks, and stronger too, Loki thinks as he hears the older man barreling behind him. He throws himself foward in a way that seems almost reckless even to Loki.

And then everything stops.

He feels rather than sees Mobius slam into his trying to restrain his hands behind his back, pressed up against the wall. There is a quiet struggle between them before Mobius gains the upper hand pushing in hard up against the wall, angry with him, Loki realizes. The feeling is exhilarating.

Maybe it was frustration, or rage, or exhaustion or a mixture of three but regardless something in Mobius, made him lean foward his mouth close to Loki’s ear as he stilly firmly presses the other man to the wall. “Gotcha.” He says simply.

“What’re going to do to me?” he asks in a probing voice. Mobius noticed, but brushes it off as Loki trying to be his typical theatrical self.

“What’re you doing to me?” Mobius retorts roughly shaking the younger man a bit to try and shake him out of it.

The door dings closed.

Loki gasps.

Mobius’ mind reels trying to process the two events. Mobius is angry and overwhelmed with the feeling of betrayal, full of rage. He pushes Loki harder, almost too hard, back against the wall. “You like that?” he taunts, voice lower than loki had ever heard it, gruff, strained.

Loki makes a noise deep in his throat, a whine. “Please, Daddy.”

It’s Mobius’s turn to gasp. He leans his forehead against loki’s shoulder blade “What’d you say?” Mobius says in a startling clear voice. Loki panics. He must have miscalculated somewhere.

Loki starts to collapse in on himself, face beet red in embarrassment. Fuck Fuck Fuck, how to get himself out of this one? He goes for the traditional walk back approach. “This is a mindgame isn’t it, leyfeyson? You think you can move me around like your little puppet but i’m not your dog!” he says in a somehow angrier voice than his earlier one. Loki closes his eyes. “S’ not a game.”Loki says quietly. “ I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t have to.” he replies giving the agent pause. “why?” he says, and loki can’t help but smile, mobius’s curiosity was one of loki’s favorite things about him. “Let me turn around, I’ll show you.” “I’ll kill you if you try anything. i mean it.” Mobius threatens. The agent turns slightly before slamming on the red emergency stop button on the elevator, the cart abruptly stopping and a faint red lighting replacing the LEDS turn on. Loki wants to see the older mans face cast in that red light, study it like a dutch oil painting, but instead he waits. “Not having you get away this time. If you try to fuck me over again.” Mobius says in tired explaination, then begins to step back a pace or so to free Loki slightly from his grip. “Alright, show me.”

loki considers all the ways this could go wrong before deciding to as always do it anyway.

He shifts to facing Mobius, and Mobius scans over him quickly, looking for clues like he was trained. His eyes reach Loki’s pants and then he does a slight double take. Loki’s pants look painfully tight and strained on him, tenting up in a way that left nothing to the imagination. Mobius entire jaw goes stiff for a second, the bone perturbing. He is silent for a moment. “This is a trick.” he says finally, because it feels like one in the same way that people don’t leave there brand new cadillacs running with the keys in them because that’s a trick, it’s a set up, plain and easy.

“No tricks, Ive got my collar on, remember?” Loki retorts and Mobius blinks, because it’s true.

Then the world feels like it’s shifting off its axis for the too of them staring back at one another. “Loki-“ Mobius starts in a pleading voice, a desperate one, Loki thinks as a chills runs up his spine.

“You are handsome. You shouldn’t sell yourself short, you know.” Loki adds suddenly making Mobius freeze.

“The grumpy silver fox thing works for you.” he says and the elder scoffs.

He turns back to face Loki, his eyes getting darker and shaded by the moment.

He takes a step closer. There foreheads almost touch.

“Say it again.” Mobius says breathless.

“Say what?” he asks coyly, reaching up to snake his hands through Mobius’s short grey hair.

“You know what!” Mobius replies quietly, equally parts frustrated and embarrassed by his own addition.

Loki reaches out to pull at his tie, yanking the older man forward.

he leans forward and kisses the other in way that could only be described as lewd before pulling away, panting slightly, the god of mischief smiling back at him with swollen lips and a blush on his cheeks.

“Daddy, please.”

The statement stops the other man’s brain for a moment, short circuiting.

Mobius knows what he’s doing, where normal human life spans were a hundred years at best, Mobius had been around for thousands, and he really had been around, learned all the tricks of the trade, studying them with the same intensity with which he studying every detail about Loki.

He moves foward quickly shucking off parts of Loki’s jumpsuit easily. Loki reaches foward and starts to clumsily undo the other man’s dress shirt. Mobius laughs, in a breathless, panting sort of way that drives Loki insane before collecting both hands in his own to kiss them softly. Loki spreads his fingers out flexing, before tentatively popping one in the older man’s mouth. He sucks on loki’s finger for moment before letting go with a wet pop, still holding the hand in question. “Mobius.” he moans and the older man turns to him gaze sharpened to watch him squirm.

“What is it, baby?” he asks softly, gently, in his comforting voice like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him. He presses kisses to Loki’s palm and forearm. “what, my kitten?” he absolutely purrs, and Loki stops breathing. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to come standing right here like this.” he says all at once words flowing into to one another. Mobius groans pressing his face into Loki’s neck before dragging his teeth against the soft expanse of skin there.

“Please, Please, No ones coming. There’s no next stop, you pressed the button it’s just us.” he reasons frantically, and that when he hears it for the first time. It takes him a moment to realize what the sound is and even longer to realize it was coming from Mobius, a low growl, deep, vibrating his whole chest cavity in a way that reverberated off Loki’s.

“I shouldn’t.” he says in a voice the sound unconvinced even to himself

Loki shrugs his shoulders rolling his eyes and then drops to his knees.

Mobius takes a pace back, blinking rapidly. “Oh Jesus Christ.” he lets out as he realizes what’s happening. He feels a hand slide up his torso but does nothing to push it away, it settles at his belt buckle, “Fuck,” he lets out as he feels a finger dip between the waistline of his pants to touch skin underneath. “Loki-Loki- you don’t- you don’t have to do this if -“ Mobius pauses, out of breath, his statement strikes him as ridiculous. Without breaking eye contact with him Loki nuzzles forward ever so gently before mouthing wetly over the crotch of the older man’s freshly pressed slacks. Mobius throws his head back so hard, there’s a slight noise made when it connects to the wall behind him. “Jesus christ,” he pants, “Look at me.” Loki commands and Mobius snaps his head back to face Loki, Loki whose mouthing at his dick, Loki, that’s going to blow him. Mobius groans looking away again. It’s too much. “Be a good boy, do what I say. Look at me.” The world now is spinning at even faster dizzying pace, in circles. All Mobius can do is obey. He looks down and Loki does the unthinkable, he looks up at him with green doe eyes, nuzzling the throbbing dick of the man in front of him, and then extends his arm up again dragging it across Mobius’ torso without breaking eye contact. Mobius latches onto the arm like a lifeline. Both breathing hard, the air of the elevator humid and thick. Mobius rests his arms out against the side railing of the elevator. Maybe there is a heaven he thinks for a few moments as he watches a literal god unzip his pants with shaky hands. He must had done something right was the second thought and then he felt Loki reaching down his boxers and begin to jerk him off and he thought nothing but of Loki and blinding hot pleasure. He bucked as he felt the wet mouth accommodate him, licking up the slides, Loki’s mouth was warm, and he instinctively moved a hand to cradle Loki’s face delicately like glass.

“Perhaps another prince” Slvie had said. She was right. Mobius was so gentle and mannerly with him, almost courtly galant, a prince he should be, Loki thought as Mobius very lightly started to shift his hips into the others face, keeping his hand around the jaw that expanded around his cock. Mobius groaned at the thought if it. His cock in loki’s mouth. Loki stared up at him at him in a way that made him feel like he were the only person in the world. “Don’t you need to stop and breathe for a second or something?” he asks ever concerned about loki’s condition at all times.

Loki answers this by speeding up causing Mobius to hiss reaching with both hands to tangle in Loki’s hair. He pulls and scratches at the scalp appreciatively, almost petting him at times. Loki moans around him and suddenly Mobius’ ears were ringing.

Mobius is properly fucking into his mouth now as he’s figured out that the pleasure Loki gets is far worth the danger to him. Loki wants to be loved, to be claimed, Mobius knew that from studying him, the stories of a second best prince and outcast, craving connection. So he had decided to claim him, to let himself fall into the moment. So he did, digging a hand into Loki’s hair with one arm and cradling the face with the other. “Good boy. Good boy.” he repeats thoroughly debatched and desperate. “Fuck, you’re such a fucking good boy aren’t you? Even though you play words games youre thinking about your lips wrapped around my cock, is that what you like? To be my good boy? To suck my cock, baby?“ Mobius’s voiced is more high pitch now, whiney almost. He groans as he feels Loki slow, and eventually let off with another lewd pop. Mobius panted. His eyes never leaving Loki’s as he watches the man kiss the way back up his chest, “Yes, Daddy.” He said in his ear before turning them around to use the pressure of Loki’s back against the wall to ride him. As Mobius turns to realize what he means for them to do two things happen, one Mobius hauls Loki’s tight little doll body up slightly to line himself up with the younger man’s entrance and the thought that there most definitely was a heaven. He pauses a moment looking into the others face, cast in the red light, concerned, careful of him, “Are you sure?” he breathes out and Loki starts to settle him self lower onto Mobius in response. they both gasp when Loki bottoms out, Mobius growls again shaking both of their chest the vibration comforting to Loki. “I’m gonna fuck your brains out, Leyfeyson, think you can handle that?”he asks gruff. “I’m gonna fuck you so good your legs shake for a week and you’ll be sure I introduced myself as daddy and didn’t give you any other names. All you’ll be able to think is Daddy please,” Loki gasps grasping desperately at Mobius’ head. “The fucking mouth on you, christ, I wished have done this sooner.” Loki says, nose to nose with Mobius as he pounding into the other. Mobius takes advantage of the situation by reaching down a giving a heavy stroke to Loki’s leaking dick. Loki moans, head back, where Mobius places kisses and bites, making him squirm even more, pulling at him. “You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful god you’re so fucking tight you’re such a good boy.” He rambles in Loki’s ear. “Daddy please, Daddy please fuck me harder, fuck me harder- yeah like that just- fuck keep going-“ Loki rambled back, reacting to Mobius switching speeds, pumping the others cock deftly driving him wild. Mobius fucks up into Loki as obediently as in any other task, with a tireless dedication and a chase of pleasure, his mouth is slack open, they’re both close, panting bodies slick with sweat. “make me belong to you.” Loki says brokenly and mobius hips stutter he shifts so that he can go deeper into loki getting lost in where one body began and the next ended “Come on fuck me like you mean it.” Loki teases but secretly still hopes for a reaction out out of the older man, which he gets, Mobius starts snapping his hips in a way that must have taken at least a millennia to perfect. “I mean it” he says licking a stripe down Loki’s neck whining. “I fucking love you - I love you.” Loki gripped at the nape of the other man’s neck. “Say it again, please -“ I love you i love- i love you fucking love you - Christ.” Loki came and when he did He kept riding mobius, “i’m yours make me yours, daddy” Mobius came with a cry tensing for a moment.

and so it all really went back to that phrase, the way he’d moan the word out, almost purring like a cat “Please, Daddy?” And how could mobius ever deny him with such a pretty face like loki’s, humans were meant to worship gods, It was natural, Mobius thought as he looked at Loki’s face, peaceful, relaxed.

[yourlmanburg]

yet another smp sibling // eret + gn!sibling!reader

(hello i genuinely do not know what got blown up in doomsday please let that slide lmao, also i am honestly really sorry about how late this is - i was super tired yesterday and i’ve been busy all day today lulw but even so, i hope you enjoy this even if i didn’t have the energy to edit it whoops)

word count: 1,343

summary: eret reveals they have a younger sibling and shows them around the dream smp

request?: yep! thank you @brianawithonen!!

---

Your brother had been streaming for about half an hour or so now while you were busy doing homework, but if you’d been watching, your heart would’ve melted. Alastair had somehow let it slip that he had a little sibling and his chat was going crazy as they spoke nothing but good about you, singing your praises and making it clear how much you meant to them.

“I can actually go and get Y/n if you guys would like?” She asked her chat, and needless to say, they were delighted with the idea of meeting another SMP sibling. You were sitting at your desk when you heard a knock at your bedroom door, spinning around to look at your brother.

“Aren’t you streaming?” You asked before he could get a word in. He wasn’t supposed to end yet as far as you were aware.

“Yep! Do you want to play on the SMP for a little bit?” They asked kindly, their tone preventing you from feeling too pressured. You couldn’t lie, the thought of showing yourself to tens of thousands of people both scared you and excited you - what if somebody you knew was watching the stream and they didn’t know you were The Eret’s sibling? What if nobody liked you? What if you said something wrong and got cancelled, or even worse, what if you got Alastair cancelled? Despite the negative thoughts crowding your mind, you realised how much joy the Dream SMP had brought to Alastair. You knew how much it’d boosted their career and you know how many lives he’d changed, and you knew about the friends he’d made. Maybe this was a chance for you to have the same as that for a segment of a stream.

“Sure!” You exclaimed with a grin, leaving your work where it was and following your brother into their recording room.

“Here we go, chat!” Alastair said with a smile, passing you a spare headset and pulling out another chair for you. “This is Y/n, my mini me, who is surprisingly good at Minecraft.” They chuckled as you looked at her with fake betrayal.

"Surprisingly, huh?" You chuckled, slipping on the headset and sitting beside your sibling. 

“Oh, by the way, I’m on the VC in case anybody wants to join - is that okay with you?” She asked and you nodded, already taking over his game and walking around on the Dream SMP. This was so surreal.

“So what do I do?”

“Well, I can show you around if you’d like?” Alastair looked at you with a small grin, to which you nodded eagerly. You began in (the remains of) L’Manburg and you were shown around the Greater Dream SMP, the Badlands, Manifoldland and even El Rapids, and you couldn’t lie; you were impressed by some of the structures your brother had built. Everything was going better than you’d expected and you really did enjoy spending time with Alastair like this, until you heard the familiar Discord chime and a very distinct voice that you just could not ignore.

“HELLO ERET!” The legendary TommyInnit screamed down your ears, unaware of your presence. Alastair chuckled, letting him know that he was with his younger sibling.

“Why do you have a child with you? Do they know that I am a big man, bigger than them?” oh, somebody sounded confident as ever.

“Wanna bet?” you spoke up, Tommy for once finding himself at a loss for words.

“You suck.” he stated bluntly, causing you to burst into fits of laughter. Alastair was a little more on the unimpressed side, however, asking Tommy to calm down with the somewhat aggressive remarks. Of course, he was only answered with incoherent angry mumbles, followed by another Discord chime.

“TUBBO!” both Alastair and Tommy shouted at the same time, Tubbo greeting them with an equal level of enthusiasm. A little yellow banner across the screen told you that he’d just logged into the game, his avatar appearing not too far away from your brother’s.

“Hey Tubbo, did you know Eret is with a child?” Tommy asked him like it was the biggest deal on Earth. Tubbo let out a confused laugh, asking Alastair if this was true or if Tommy was just spouting bullshit as usual.

“Hi,” you giggled before Alastair had a chance to reply. “I believe I am said child.”

“Oh, hello!” he greeted you happily, running over towards you in Minecraft and crouching in front of your character. 

“Tubbo, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Who’s Tubbo? I am Big Law and Big Law only.” you laughed at how serious his tone was, feeling as if you were really, finally seeing why the SMP meant so much to your brother. You barely knew them yet these people were some of the nicest you’d ever met (despite the fact that you’d already known of their existence and tuned into more than enough streams prior to this) and you truly felt as if you belonged - if only you could become a permanent member in the intricate storyline.

You, Tubbo and Tommy played around for a while longer with your brother by your side, every so often speaking up but he was mostly just watching you. Watching the smile on your face and the shine in your eyes; this was clearly where you wanted to be, if he could just…

Alastair pulled out his phone, opening up discord and clicking on his conversation with Dream. Meanwhile, you were very invested in the business you were starting up with the two boys, trying to persuade people like Nihachu and Ranboo to buy from you.

Dream joined the game.

You paused for a second, looking up at Alastair with a grin. You’d always wanted to meet Dream and she’d always said that he was a busy man and you just had to wait for a chance, could this be it? Could you finally be able to speak to the Dreamwastaken?

Even so, you carried on as you were. You tried not to show your excitement in fear of being seen as an overly obsessed fan, when you saw a familiar green skin hopping over to where you, Ranboo and your two new friends stood. Turning to face him, Tommy and a very confused Ranboo began shouting at you to make a deal with him for your business when somebody joined the call.

“Hello?” the new voice greeted, and it was undeniably Dream. 

“Hello!” you replied enthusiastically, as did the others. 

“Y/n?” Oh my god, he knew your name.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your Minecraft username?”

“Y/u/n, why?” Dream left the game and there was a pause. Nobody else in the call was speaking, what was happening? Had you just fucked things up? You looked up to Alastair for reassurance, and he nodded at you with a warm smile, but you still didn’t understand.

“Okay!” Dream spoke up again, dragging out the “o” and rejoining the server. “Eret should be sending you the IP address now, go and try logging in on your account, you should be whitelisted.

And you were. You’d finally been whitelisted on the Dream SMP.

All because of your brother.

That night, you sat on the sofa beside Alastair, tired from many hours you’d spent on the server, but happy. The happiest you’d been in a while. As much as you were afraid to admit it, ever since they joined you’d longed to have what they had with everyone, you longed to be part of the plot. You finally had that chance.

“So?” She asked you with a smile. “How was today?”

“Fucking incredible!” you replied, making them laugh. You leaned into Alastair’s side, looking up at him with a tired expression. “Thank you, Alastair, seriously. You’ve just made one of my dreams come true - pun intended.”

“I’m glad! I’m so happy to have you there now, I really think you have the potential to become a really crucial character.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now go and do that maths homework you left.”

“I hate you.”

[vaire-gwir]

I’ve run out of my words

Post-mountain incident, Jaskier is a heart broken mess. The last thing he needs is an unexpected visit from Geralt. 

I have accepted that it’s never going to be the same amount of words as I Find you all Unwoven, cause I re-wrote this three times and it just doesn’t happen.

Again, I was sad, that’s my excuse. English is not my first language, hope it doesn’t terribly suck! 

***

It hurt a great deal when Jaskier sold his lute. He was attached to it for more than just sentimental reasons. Sometimes he felt like his life truly started the day he got that lute.

He was used to pain by now though, pain was just another thing creeping under the surface, it came and went in waves like the ocean, sometimes threatening to overwhelm him with memories and sometimes resting among the broken pieces of his heart, hissing like a snake waiting to strike.

It was always there, he just perceived it in different ways: some days it was like being on the edge of an empty abyss of nothingness, about to fall but never really tipping over, just going through the motion. Other times, there were the long nights when sleep refused to visit him and he'd get this urge under his skin, to move, to do something, anything to not feel trapped in his own flesh, caged by his own mind.

He tried to fight insomnia with the ink, but he proved a terrible fighter. He couldn't write anything anymore. When he tried to play, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and he'd get even the simplest of melody wrong, resulting in endless frustration that kept him up until dawn.

As much as he tried to outrun his ghost, he always ended up running right into it, and if he managed to keep his waking hours relatively Geralt-free, the dreams were always there. His journals paid the price of waking up for the hundredth time, after a nightmare that leaves him choking and incapable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He thought he'd feel relieved after watching it crackle and burn to ashes, as if destroying the evidence of his time with the Witcher could also destroy the heartache that came with it, but it doesn't work like that. Nothing he ever does stops him from being hollow.

Jaskier walks around the Academy like a shadow, trying to keep himself busy between lessons or at least trying to keep Geralt out of his thoughts. This simple task proved to be more complicated than he anticipated. He doesn't want to be here, he's not made for teaching and his students get on his nerves all the time. To be fair, most things get on his nerves since the mountain incident, but he doesn't have many options.

Sure, he could go home to his family, beg their forgiveness and implore his father to allow him back into court. That sounded as promising as jumping off a bridge.

Compared to that, even the room Madame M. offered him at the brothel looked like a golden palace. At least he had some talent for sex, he managed to convince even a Witcher to sleep with him, that hadn't been easy.

Jaskier stirs his mind in a safer direction, cause thinking about those nights will not do him any good. He still blames and curses himself for coming up with that stupid arrangement, cause why not Geralt, I'm here all the time, and I'm obviously very willing, besides you don't have to pay me, looks like a win-win situation to me. Looks like you're a special kind of idiot, Jaskier, that's what you are. Why did Geralt even accept anyway?

Jaskier blinks the memories away and focuses on trying to have lunch, cause that's what sane, normal people do. He's still struggling with normal though.

His plan flew out of the window when someone started to sing. Jaskier froze in his spot when he recognized the song. He wrote that. He should be pleased to hear it, but it's not pride he feels when he glances in the direction of the curly-haired boy in green velvet.

He will never play or sing another song again, and people will forget him sooner than Geralt did. The folks in this tavern don't know him, they don't know he wrote those lyrics to distract himself the first night Geralt didn't come back from a hunt and he feared for him every second of that dreadful night.

He spent hours cursing the Gods for making him so useless and prayed to them in the same breath, begging for their mercy. He felt stupid later, when Geralt showed up at dawn saying it took him longer than expected to break a curse. Jaskier told the Witcher how scared he had been and Geralt dismissed him as the fool he was.

He's scared of being forgotten, of being meaningless and unimportant. No one is going to remember Jaskier, the bard that traveled the continent with the White Wolf and shared his adventures.

He left Jaskier on top of that mountain, he's just Julian now, just a teacher, just another idiot that got his heart broken. Geralt left him like everyone else. That's what people do, they just leave and move on with their lives. So why couldn't he move on too?

There's a small shift in the air, and while he tries to regain control of his thoughts, for some unknown reason, destiny, the universe, life or the Gods, make him turn his head toward the entrance.

There is no mistaking the white hair he sees, or the dark armour. Jaskier knows he has to leave before Geralt sees him. The sole idea of Geralt being here is enough to leave him shaking.

What are the chances of meeting the Witcher outside Oxenfurt? There were no contracts in town, why was fate trying his best to mess with his life today, was the song not enough? He feels like his head is swimming and he knows he doesn't have time to panic cause his heart beats so loudly he fears Geralt will spot it in a second.

He puts some coins in the maid's hand and stumbles out of the place.  

He can't face him. Not today. Probably not ever, cause he can't imagine he'll ever be ready to face the one that broke his heart without holding any anger or resentment towards him. Why must he feel like this, Geralt never cared for him, so why is he still drowning in his feelings for the idiot?

Jaskier is a poet, he should know a thing or two about heartache. He should also know that he's out of luck today.

"Why did you follow me, Witcher?" Jaskier feels his presence a few paces behind him, still so painfully familiar to him even after all these months.

"How did you know..." There's a puzzled expression on Geralt's face. Jaskier knows he's not prepared for this.

It takes him a second to realize that no matter how angry he is at the Witcher, how deep his sorrow runs and how broken his heart is, a small part of him is almost glad to see him. It's the same small part that decided to talk to a stranger and follow him on a dangerous journey, the one that figured out first that what he was feeling was more than a crush, and that accepted every scrap of affection Geralt showed him like he was being handed the world on a silver plate.

Geralt is exactly how he remembers him, and his betrayer heart jumps in his chest when their eyes meet.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." I love you, I'd recognize your steps everywhere, the cracking of the leather in your gloves and the click of the metal of that buckle in your armor you always forget to fix after a hunt, I know them as if they were my own. I love you, and you broke my heart. That's what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat, they're no use now.

"I... You were not singing." Jaskier knows it's not surprise he sees on Geralt's face when he answers "I don't do that anymore." but he can't figure out what it is.

It hurt when he realized he couldn't bring himself to sing or play anymore, it left him feeling even emptier than before, cause he always thought he'd have his music to console him, to defend him from the things life was throwing at him, to build a wall around himself and protect whatever was left of him. How wrong he was.

"Why not?" Jaskier wishes he could explain that when they parted on top of the mountain, when he forced himself to say "See you around Geralt" knowing he'll never see him again, when he tried to process those heavy words that rolled off the Witcher's tongue, his love for music, for poetry, for life, rolled off too and hid somewhere he couldn't reach anymore. But Geralt never cared for his music.

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Keeping his tone even and preventing his voice from breaking is hard, harder than any performance he ever had to do. Ten months ago feel like a lifetime away now, it doesn't even seem real. The ache in his chest is always there to remind him that it is.

"That's not true." Jaskier sees how he clenches his hands as if those words meant a great effort for him. The Gods know how many times he looked into Geralt's eyes after singing, desperately seeking his approval and finding only a mild annoyance, like this was just another thing he had to endure.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Jaskier wants to be annoyed, he should be furious for what Geralt did to him, for leaving him like he meant nothing, but these days being mad is a lot of effort. He doesn't have it in him anymore, it's easier to let go of the anger. It doesn't make him feel less empty or less broken anyway.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier laughs bitterly.

"Really Geralt? That's rich coming from you. Now you want to talk? You know what, no. No, you don't get to come here and tell me you want to talk after I spent ten gods forsaken months trying to forget you. Don't you fucking dare. Not like this. Now if there's something I can help you with, do say so. If not, spare us both this conversation, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to have my heart broken again." Jaskier is not even sure there is something left to break.

He'll never admit it but deep down he knows there's no forgetting Geralt. And he curses that small part of him that wants to listen to him, to let him talk and explain, cause he knows that he'd go back to traveling with the Witcher right this second if he so much as says he'd take him back. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. A Witcher apologizing, as if.

"I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier."  Saying goodbye, even knowing that it's for the best, doesn't make it any less painful.

"You were right." Geralt looks at him in a way he has never seen before, for a second he thinks it's hurt that he sees flickering in those golden eyes, but it lasts a second. He should know Geralt doesn't care about him enough to be hurt by something he says or does.

"You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands. But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

His voice breaks at the end, he feels the tears stinging his eyes and he turns to walk away before Geralt notices it. Pain comes in waves, and today he's drowning.

[radiantroope]

Lonely Heart || Rafe Cameron

Chapter Four - Tainted Love

chapter summary: Janelle comes over to talk and starts to show her true colors. You and John B. go surfing where he gets you to open up to him about your mom. An unlikely friend saves you from falling into what seems like a trap.

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of familial death, a beer is mentioned

word count: 4.3k+

author’s note: yeah uhhh don’t hate me for this lol. i wanna fight her too. as always, please leave me some feedback and let me know if you’re enjoying this series <3

read chapter three here!

series playlist | series masterlist | main masterlist

You didn’t leave the house much. You didn’t want to risk running into Rafe or Janelle anywhere. Topper had dropped by a couple of times just to check on you and see how your mother was doing. Sarah was over the most, refusing to let you waste away in your room by yourself. She was going back to school at Chapel Hill, splitting her time between the mainland and the island. You’d tried to insist she didn’t have to come over every other day, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. ‘You’re my best friend. You can try and shut everyone else out, but not me.’ she’d said.

Your mother had an appointment that day to have a brain MRI. They wanted to check the tumor and make sure the chemotherapy was helping slow the growth or at least keep the tumor at bay for the time being. Her form of cancer was aggressive and there was a chance the chemo would only work for so long. Eventually the tumor would stop reacting to it and continue growing rapidly. Your parents told you the visit was boring and you’d be in the waiting room the whole time so they made you stay home.

You stared at the fresh cup of tea in front of you, robotically dipping the tea bag in and out of the scalding water. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Rafe, as much as you tried not to think about him. You couldn’t comprehend why he’d ghosted you and started dating your best friend. Was he ashamed of loving her and feared you’d think you were replaced? Truthfully, it is how you felt. He pushed you out and made more room for Janelle in his life, letting her fill a place you thought would always be yours.

Your whole perspective on your life was forced to change. The dreams and goals you’d had when you were younger, picturing Rafe by your side, you’d instead achieved and chased by yourself. You went to college parties and drowned yourself in booze to ignore how wrong it felt being there. You had mindlessly hooked up with fraternity douchebags, hoping it would fill the void in your chest. It never did. You had tried to go on dates with guys who were so sweet and nothing short of gentlemen, but none of them managed to wow you. They weren’t rough around the edges with just enough attitude to keep you in check. They were soft, men you could walk all over and they’d let you. They weren’t Rafe. You hated yourself for comparing them all to him, but he was all you’d ever known. He was all you ever wanted.

Guilt started eating away at you for focusing so much on the boy who unknowingly broke your heart. Your mother was dying for God’s sake. You should be putting all of your attention on her and making sure she was happy in what was going to be the last year of her life. You were upset with yourself for being so angry with her for not telling you about the engagement. It wasn’t their fault your closest friends were a couple of backstabbers.

The shrill ring of the doorbell ripped you from your thoughts. You abandoned the now cold cup of tea at the coffee table, sock clad feet sliding across the hardwood as you moved through the house. You glanced down at the oversized shirt you were wearing, biker shorts poking out underneath. You had a feeling your unruly hair was sticking out in all directions from the bun it was in but couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

The moment you ripped the front door open, you tried to slam it right back closed. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed against their body, growling, “Get the fuck off my porch.”

“I’m here to talk, Y/N, please!” Janelle protested, trying to look at you through the crack in the white painted door without having it crushed. “Just give me ten minutes.”

You hesitated, pausing against the door. Words couldn’t describe how hurt you were that she’d kept this from you for years. She had been one of your best friends. She knew things about you that your own parents didn’t know — that Rafe himself didn’t know. Could it hurt to at least try and hear her out?

You finally pulled the door open, avoiding her striking green eyes and waving your arm out to let her in. You shut the door loudly behind her and moved to the couch. “Ten minutes,” you stated, sitting at one end while she took a spot on the other.

“How’s your mom?” she started, giving you a sad smile.

You shrugged once, responding monotonously with, “Fine.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Janelle said softly, seemingly sincere as she stared at her lap. You kept quiet and didn’t show any change in emotion on your face, so she continued, “I should have told you. The second things changed with Rafe and I, I should have come to you about it.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply as to collect your thoughts. There were a million things you could say to her right now, most more unpleasant than others. You sighed, “You knew how much I loved him, Janelle. You were the only person I told. Do you understand how much of a slap to the face this is?”

“I know. I broke, like, the first rule in girl code. I suck,” she replied, shaking her head a bit. She had been avoiding your eyes but looked back over, “We didn’t expect it, you know. It just kind of… happened. Things were really rough for both of us for a while and I guess it made us closer. We were able to connect on a deeper level.”

You stared at her, unable to read the expression on her face. You couldn’t pinpoint one sort of emotion swimming in her eyes. A weight settled on your shoulders, something within you feeling unnerved.

“Do you love him?”

There it was, a smile. The first real emotion the dark haired girl had shown you since she stepped foot in the house. Did she even care about you at all? Did she care that this was ripping you apart inside? “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have said yes to marrying him if I didn’t,” her response lit a fire within your chest, spreading through every nerve ending in your body.

“Then why did you never seem interested in him before?” you questioned, watching the creases form between her eyebrows. “You chased after Kelce for two years without giving up. You never once gave any indication that you were remotely interested in Rafe until I left, apparently.”

You were simmering in pent up anger and betrayal, jealousy sitting just below the surface. Though, you kept yourself calm, refusing to let those emotions through. You knew Janelle like the back of your hand and you knew there was more to this. You wanted to push her until she said exactly what she was thinking. The slow contort of her face into an angry scowl proved to you that it was working.

“You don’t just wake up one day and decide, hm, I’m in love with this person now, Janelle. How do you even know if what you have is real?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so conceited and wrapped up in yourself you would have noticed,” Janelle spit, the olive toned tan to her face turning a light shade of pink. “Everyday I had to listen to you bitch and moan about how he’d never love you back. All you did was cry because you were too scared to tell him how you felt. I always loved him but you always made everything about you.”

You blood boiled under your skin. Your face became hot and you clenched your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Your bottom lip was sure to start bleeding soon with how tightly you bit it between your teeth.

“You weren’t there for the fights with Ward, when he called him names and made him feel less than. You weren’t there for the nights he got black out drunk because he wanted to forget. You weren’t there for the fucking cocain addiction that almost ruined his whole life,” Janelle seethed, leaning closer to you with every word she spoke.

Your jaw clenched painfully as you grit out, “How was I supposed to be there when he’s the one who cut me out of his life?”

“He cut you out of his life to send you a message, Y/N!” Janelle shouted through a laugh, a condescending smile settling on her lips. “He was so happy when you moved to California because he was finally free! He wasn’t being suffocated by you anymore!”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, shaking your head quickly. Your mind flashed back to your going away party. The soft voices and gentle touches. The way he looked at you like you were the only person he had eyes for — at least that’s what you thought.

“It is, and the sooner you accept that, the better. Rafe doesn’t love you,” the raven haired girl stated. Your glossy eyes flickered to hers. The bright green in them was gone and replaced with a cold, mossy color. “He never loved you. He never will love you the way you’re so desperate for him to. You moving was the best thing that ever happened to him — to us.”

You stayed seated on the couch as she got up and slung her entirely too large of a purse over her shoulder. Your eyes were full to brim with tears that you refused to let fall in front of her. You wouldn’t let her see how much this was ruining you. This wasn’t the girl you’d met back when you were ten years old, it was a completely different person. Or maybe she had been this person the whole time, and you had just been a pawn in some sick game. Only did you look at her when she opened the front door.

“And Y/N,” the sweet tone replaced the venomous one she used only moments ago. “Stay away from him. I don’t need you messing with his head before the wedding.”

The door slammed and you sat there, allowing the tears to flow down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t sob, you didn’t scream and throw things around like most would have thought. It was just a silent flow of saltiness that felt never ending. A numbing feeling came over you as you let Janelle’s words absorb into your head. Had you really been so blind by your own love for Rafe you never saw hers? Had you been so stupid to think the Kook Prince would fall for someone as ordinary as you?

You don’t know if it was only minutes or maybe hours that you sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall. Eventually, you finally pulled yourself up and located your phone. There was one thing you knew would help you escape the depression spiral you were heading down. And there was one person you could call who would be willing to do it with you — despite hardly knowing you at all.

“Hello?” John B. sounded utterly confused as to why you were calling him.

“H-Hey, I uh, I know this is weird,” your voice was dry and you cleared your throat, “Do you, i dunno, maybe wanna go surfing with me?”

—

You sat on top of your board out where the water was calmer, watching John B. pull off an intricate trick with his own surfboard. You hummed in thought, wishing you could pull off some of the moves he did. You tended to just catch the biggest wave you could and ride it out for as long as possible. You’d picked up some things over the years, but just riding out a long wave was your favorite feeling. You loved the rush, like you were flying.

“You’re really good,” you complimented the brunette as he made his way back out to you.

“Thanks,” John B. chuckled, moving to straddle his board just as you were, “You’re pretty good at riding out the big ones. I bet I could get JJ to teach you some things. He’s better than I am.”

You laughed softly and shook your head, brushing your wet hair behind your back, “JJ would rather scrub Heyward’s boat to the bone than hang out with me.”

“He’s not that bad,” the Routledge boy tried to defend his friend. “Well, not anymore. He’s more… tolerant.”

You hummed in response, staring out into the open water where the edges curved at the horizon. The sun was beginning to go down, casting an orange glow over everything around you. John B. watched you, seeing the gears turning in your head. He’d barely seen you smile all day and from what Sarah had told him, surfing always made you happiest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You turned to look at him, his soft hazel eyes saying It’s okay, you can trust me. You sighed heavily and averted your gaze to the purple and white board below you. You could feel that you wanted to cry again but your eyes remained dry, like you had nothing left in you. The hollow feeling in your chest felt like it was going to swallow you whole.

“You sure you want my demons weighing on your conscience?” you asked playfully, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.

John B. smiled softly, shrugging a bit, “We all have our demons, Y/N. Some worse than others.”

You nodded and eyed him for a moment longer before asking, “What was it like.. to lose your dad?”

The curly haired boy sucked in a breath. It had been four years but it never got easier. His dad was all he had and then he was alone, still a child having to grow up entirely too fast. He let out a soft breath, “It was hard. I didn’t know what happened to him for nine months, and then to find out he was dead? It was like a part of me died with him.”

You nodded, silently listening along as he opened up to you.

“It was painful and ugly. I lashed out at my friends… It’s still painful sometimes. I try to think about the good things though. The fishing trips on his boat, going to work with him.. His horrendous endeavour to find The Royal Merchant,” he paused to laugh at the memory, and you did too. You’d heard enough stories about him and his friends searching for the lost gold as well. “I know he’s still with me. He watches over me. Your mom will too.”

You nodded again, bottom lip quivering slightly. Your voice was strained as you spoke, “It fucking sucks seeing her like this. Everyday I feel like I can tell she’s getting worse.”

“I regret not being around more the last couple of years. If I had known this was going to happen I would have done so many things differently.”

John B. waded his board closer to you, resting his hand on yours that was gripping your knee. His eyes were remorseful, lips turned down in a frown. His father’s death was sudden and unexpected. He understood your pain but he also had no idea how to handle knowing the inevitable was coming. He couldn’t imagine watching someone you love slowly slip away.

“Don’t think about that. Don’t beat yourself up for what you didn’t do or wish you did. Spend this time reminding your mom how much you love her and helping make these last moments she has some of the best. Make more memories with her that you’ll look back on and smile at,” he told you, squeezing your fingers softly.

You met John B.’s eyes again and nodded, giving him a soft smile. It was nice to talk to someone who didn’t exactly know you on that personal level but could also relate to you. He had experienced a loss like you were about to and it was refreshing to hear how he coped with it and get some advice. You wondered exactly how much Sarah had told him but it was nice that he was judging you. Maybe years ago, he would have thrown it back in your face, called you a snob and any other insult he could think of. Maybe it was dating Kook that changed his outlook, or he’d grown up and matured and realized the stupid rivalry wasn’t worth being a complete dick all the time.

John B. drifted away from you again when he saw you seemed more relaxed, he looked out where the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. He offered, “Why don’t you come back to the Chateau with me? Sarah’s coming over and I know she’s dying to get you to hang with us.”

You contemplated for a moment, unsure how inviting the other Pogues would be to another Kook in their company. But for once, getting out and being around other people sounded a lot better than going home and burying yourself in Ben and Jerry’s while binge watching a show you’d already seen. So you nodded and smiled, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

—

Rafe didn’t listen to Topper’s advice of leaving you alone. He couldn’t pretend like seeing after all of these years wasn’t a sucker punch to the gut. He kept replaying everything over the course of five years in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could’ve done differently. The different outcomes of his actions replayed in his head like a broken record. What could have happened if he hadn’t cut you out of his life? Would you have ended up together in the end, despite the distance? Should he have told you how he felt that day, when it felt like your gentle touch was the only thing holding him together?

He traveled out onto the South side and watched from his truck as you and John B. left the beach. He thought about getting out and speaking to you there but instead he watched from the shadows as you strapped your surfboard to the top of your mother’s car and drove away behind the Volkswagen.

Against his better judgement, Rafe followed you. He stayed far enough behind that you wouldn’t recognize his truck. He knew his way to the Routledge boy’s house anyway. Many a night’s he had gone there when he was younger and looking for trouble, or when he got older, to pick up his sister when she didn’t have a ride. He knew that’s where you were heading. He would pretend it didn’t bother him slightly that you were hanging out with the Pogues. He’d grown more accustomed to seeing them around but the roots of the rivalry were still deeply embedded within him. He still thought they were at the bottom of the food chain.

You didn’t think much of the headlights that pulled up behind your car, thinking Sarah had just arrived. You dug around in the backseat, trying to gather the things that had spilled from your bag. The headlights shut off and it was quiet for a moment. You heard John B. curse softly and your heart nearly stopped when you heard the voice.

“Sup, John B.?” Rafe’s gruff voice filled the air, nodding his head at his sister’s boyfriend.

“Rafe,” the Routledge boy greeted back, an edge to his tone.

You slowly removed yourself from the car, turning to face the last person you wanted to see, next to Janelle. You hated the way your heart skipped a beat when his azure irises met yours. He swallowed thickly, waiting for you to make the first move, which you did.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- I uh,” Rafe’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck, eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground. “I don’t know. I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed and shook your head, reaching back into the car to get your bag. He hesitantly moved closer and continued, “I’m worried about you, Y/N. I know things are weird right now and I’m sorry about your mom but I-”

“Don’t,” you snapped, standing upright and slamming the car door, “Don’t pretend like you fucking care.”

“I do care. I just want to talk.”

“You had five years to talk, Rafe!” you shouted, voice shaking as you did so. You bit the inside of your lip and begged your body not to betray you. You didn’t need him seeing you cry. “I waited and waited for you to talk to me. I asked myself ‘why’ for years! You’ve moved on with your life, that’s fine, I can accept that. But don’t expect me to be a part of it anymore. Just go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

Even from a distance Rafe could see the glaze to your eyes. He could see your body shaking as you tried to keep yourself composed. It looked like you were about to fall apart in front of him and it made his chest ache. You always were the one to pretend to be strong for as long as you could until it crushed you. He shook his head and tried again, “Y/N, please, you don’t understa-”

“Yo, Rafe! Didn’t know you were stopping by!” you turned to see JJ Maybank bouncing down the porch steps, an arrogant smirk painted on his chapped lips. His unruly hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards baseball cap. He was shirtless, flaunting his physique in only a pair of grey cargo shorts. He’d heard you yelling and figured he may as well come investigate.

“Maybank,” Rafe greeted the Pogue stiffly, a lot more tense than he’d been around John B.

The younger blonde boy threw his arm around your shoulders as he came to your side, catching you by surprise. You glanced up at him, but his eyes never left Rafe, his smirk widening. You didn’t see the look of anger that flashed across your former best friend’s face, a fire igniting in his eyes — JJ caught it though, and he was going to run with it.

“I heard about the engagement, man, congrats!” JJ spoke enthusiastically and you had to resist rolling your eyes. You suddenly had the urge to throw up like on the Druthers, but you swallowed the feeling down. Your eyes met Rafe’s again as JJ kept going, “Don’t you have, like, a cake tasting to get to or something?”

Rafe’s hands curled into fists, knuckles cracking as he squeezed. If anyone knew how to get under his skin in just the right way, it was the Maybank boy. He breathed out slowly through his nose, choosing to ignore the comments from the Pogue. He pleaded with you, “Can we just talk, real quick? Please?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, bro. Y/N’s really busy right now,” JJ answered for you, tilting his head to look down at you, “Aren’t you, bubs?”

You stared up into the tan blonde’s indigo eyes that were screaming at you not to go to him. You knew he was trying to help you, but you weren’t friends. You didn’t understand why he came to your defense so quick. He could have just let you stand out there and allow Rafe to rope you back in like you knew he could.

“She can speak for herself,” Rafe snapped at JJ who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. You hadn’t moved out from under his arm so clearly you had no interest in going to the Kook.

“Go home, Rafe,” you said, turning with JJ to walk up to the Chateau. “Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore,” you took a dig, repeating what Janelle had said to you earlier in the day.

Rafe stood there, watching as you walked to the porch, wrapped in someone else’s arms — someone he despised. His heart pounded harder in his chest the further you got away from him, like you were taking it with you. He silently got back in his truck and backed out, tires squealing as he peeled off down the road. He gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, breathing raggedly. Wouldn’t want to suffocate you anymore. Those words bothered him, knowing he’d heard something like that before but he couldn’t recall when, where or more importantly, who.

“Well that couldn’t have been anymore awkward,” John B. stated as he led you into the house.

You’d expected JJ to drop his arm the second Rafe was gone, but he didn’t, guiding you into the kitchen for you to put down your bag. You sighed heavily and rubbed your face with the hand not pinned to your side, “I’m sorry about that. And thank you, JJ, you didn’t have to do all that.”

The boy hummed and waved his hand, finally stepping away from you and moving to the fridge, “The guy’s an asshole and needs to learn he can’t always get what he wants. Especially after what happened on daddy dearest’s boat.”

You felt your face flush, looking over at John B. who held his hands up as if he was surrendering, “I didn’t say anything, swear.”

“Word travels fast ‘round these parts,” JJ clarified, walking back over and handing you a beer. He sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, patting the one beside him for you. “C’mon, tell your good pal JJ what the Prince fucked up this time.”

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[phantom-curve]

Happy second birthday❤️❤️❤️ 35 juke please

Thank you! I know I did this prompt for Willex already, but since you specified Juke I wanted to give that dynamic a shot as well, so here is some very angsty Luke and comforting Julie set in the did I shatter you? AU, from before that fic takes place!

#35: kissing their scars and bruises (Trigger Warning: brief mention of violence in the form of punching a wall and the resulting injuries from doing so. Rated T for language)

Luke didn’t often talk about Bobby anymore. Julie knew the basics, knew how deeply his betrayal had cut into Luke, knew that the wound still festered on some level, but it wasn’t something that they actually talked about. Bobby was in the Before Time: the time when Julie didn’t know the boys, the time when she was still lost in the ocean of grief that had drowned her when her mom died, the time when they were Julie Molina and Sunset Curve, two separate entities that hadn’t yet had the chance to change each other’s lives. Luke didn’t like the Before Time. He didn’t like that Julie had been silent and alone in her suffering for so long, he didn’t like that he had given so much of himself to a band that had been shattered as easily as glass against hardwood floor. He liked to focus on the here and the now. But the Before Time was there, and Julie knew that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t always outrun it.

Like now, when they were on their first tour out of high school, opening for Fitz and The Tantrums (which was the biggest thing they had done as a band so far and holy shit was it incredible), but of course there had to be some way that Bobby ruined it.

Julie hadn’t really noticed it at first, when they entered the second to last venue on their tour. She was a bit too awed by the fact that they were finally doing what they had always wanted to and gaining even more recognition along the way. They actually had some fans that had gone to more than one tour stop, specifically to see them, and at last night’s show there had been a girl that had approached the merch booth after their set and said the only reason she got tickets to the show in the first place was to see them play. It felt big and huge and like they were finally taking steps to enter the real professional musician leagues, and Julie had been basking in it.

So, she missed the way Luke was off in the green room. Didn’t pay a lot of attention to the posters on the walls from previous tours that had come through. Not until they were on stage and Luke’s energy felt weird and the entire performance left her with the sour taste of dissatisfaction as they made their way back to the green room to clean up and get ready to head out to their merch table. Alex and Reggie were quieter than normal, and Luke was clearly pissed. At first, she thought it was because they hadn’t played their best, but then Luke’s fist was flying into the concrete wall next to a bright blue poster, and when she screamed and rushed over to check on him, she saw the words printed on the page.

Trevor Wilson: Get Lost Tour!

The dates listed below were from almost a year prior. Once again, Bobby had beaten Luke at something without putting in even half the effort. Not that Julie saw it that way, but she knew Luke did. She caught the sound of the door to the green room closing, noticed that Alex and Reggie were gone, probably for the best considering Reg still jumped when someone so much as raised their voice around him, but most of her focus was on Luke. The tears in his eyes and the blood streaming down his fingers from where the skin had split on his knuckles. The wall hadn’t sustained any damage, but Luke’s hand was a different matter completely. The anger seemed to drain out of him all at once when he met Julie’s steady gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was broken, his body slumping forward as she caught him in a hug. She didn’t speak, let him cry himself out against the cradle of her neck until the collar of her shirt was wet with his tears. After a long moment he shuddered, pulling out of her grasp and plopping down on the ratty couch, his injured hand tucked against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, although this time Julie could tell it wasn’t just an apology for his outburst, but an apology for everything else about that night.

“I know.”

She didn’t need to make him feel worse. It was punishment enough that he had injured his playing hand. Their last show was in two days and Julie was sure he wouldn’t be playing it. But that conversation could be saved for a later time. Right now, he needed comfort. She moved to sit next to him, tucking her legs underneath herself, reaching out for his hand. He passed it over without comment.

Slowly, Julie flexed and moved each one of his fingers, noticing when he winced but thankful that each one seemed to move okay. He hadn’t broken anything which seemed to be a miracle in itself, but it was clear he had done some minor damage, bruises already blossoming along his knuckles. She left the couch to move to the cooler along the wall, scooping a handful of ice into a paper towel and swiping some bandages and wet wipes from the ancient First Aid kid in the back corner. When she sat down again, Luke placed his hand in hers without question, meeting her gaze as she held the makeshift ice pack against it.

“You know his success doesn’t detract from yours, right? You’re still a better musician in every way and you’ve actually earned your spot instead of buying your way in.”

She kept her voice gentle and steady, no judgement, just the affection that always simmered under the surface. They both knew they weren’t exactly ‘just friends’ though neither one had made any moves towards something more than that yet.

“He’s still using my words to get there though. My heart and soul getting twisted into whatever he wants to make them.”

Luke couldn’t keep the disgust out of his words, his lip curling into a sneer. Julie sighed and tried again.

“I know. But you have new words, our words.”

Our hearts and souls combined, she wanted to say. But she held back. They weren’t ready for that yet. Luke’s face softened slightly before he sighed.

“You’re right, I know you’re right. It just still fucking hurts, Jules.”

“I get that. But does it hurt any less because you punched a wall about it?”

A rueful grin stretched his lips and then he sucked in a breath as Julie lifted the ice and began dabbing at the scrapes on his hand with the wipes. He was silent for a while, watching her intently as she bandaged his wounds.

“You’re too good to me.”

There was a deeper emotion lurking behind his eyes, something less friendly and more loving. Julie ducked her head shyly, lifting his hand so she could be sure it was properly fixed up for the time being. In a moment of pure adrenaline and bravery, she lowered her lips and kissed her way across the bruises marring his skin, turning his hand over to place one final kiss in the center of it before she slowly curled his fingers around it. Her kiss, enclosed in his palm, like a tattoo on his skin. She blushed when she finally looked up to meet his gaze, the endless ocean in his eyes nearly drowning her with affection and awe. His uninjured hand reached up to graze her jaw lightly. The sound of the door opening broke through their moment, Luke’s hand falling and Julie pushing herself off of the couch as Alex cautiously stuck his head into the room.

“You all good in here? We still have merch to sell and there’s some fans asking where you guys are.”

Julie forced a grin, meeting Luke’s gaze for one quick moment. He nodded softly and she turned back to Alex.

“All good.”

“Sorry, bro. Tell Reggie I’ll buy him a snow cone to make up for it. That wasn’t cool.”

Alex nodded, his jaw softening slightly as he took in Luke’s hand and red rimmed eyes.

“Tell him yourself. At the merch table. Where your fans are asking for you.”

Julie laughed lightly.

“Okay, okay we get the hint.” She turned to Luke and offered a hand for him to hold. He stood, lacing his fingers through hers. “C’mon, Rockstar. Let’s give the people what they came here for.”

Luke smiled, a real smile, and Julie knew things would be okay. The Bobby hurt lived on, but they were pushing their way through it one day at a time. Their songs, their band, was stronger than one jackass with a handful of stolen songs. They were stronger; together they would survive this.

[milknette]

chapter 01 - au

lights out solo in the blue, but now i’ve found you.

tumblr month: @adrinetteapril​

links: ao3 | ff.net chapter: previous | next

HUMANS suck.

Marinette bites back the need to scream, instead settling for a cold glare pointed at anyone who dares look at her— some even having the audacity to laugh .

This is a terrible idea.

Why did she think this was a good idea in the first place?

Her mind races back to last summer, where Alya was animatedly telling her about the wonders of the human world: how it was filled with knowledge and treasures that she could never find back home, where the people were so interesting and diverse, pointing out that she’d likely never get bored with the sheer amount of things they could do way up there.

“Come with me, Mari!” Alya had begged her. “This was literally the best summer I’ve ever had and I can’t imagine going back to college without you. I swear you won’t regret it.”

But as she stands in the middle of the quad, soaking wet from head to toe, Marinette only finds that she wants to curse her best friend’s name; to grab Alya by the shoulders and shout, “I regret it, you land mammal— how do you live like this!?! ”

She really should’ve just stayed at home.

Her dad was right, after all. Marinette doesn't belong here.

(Not with creatures like them.)

The mermaids are a proud people; ever since they had shown themselves to the humans (though the land people insisted they ‘discovered’ them— Marinette has to roll her eyes, humans could be so selfish and egotistical. ), active attempts to integrate and create peaceful unions between the two species were being implemented.

It was one step further into blurring the line between the real and the mythical— though really not all that noticed, as most mermaids didn’t care about the world on land in the first place.

Only a handful were actually interested in human life, and even fewer made an attempt to live within it.

Marinette, to her deep regret, happens to be one of them.

After a fair amount of begging and convincing, her parents had allowed her to take a kind of ‘exchange program’, where she’d be attending university with Alya on land for the next year.

It's exciting, at first.

Walking on her own two feet is a struggle ( really , how humans survived with these two weak limbs, she'll never understand), but decides that it’d be worth it if Alya had been telling the truth.

Sure, there are times Marinette misses her mermaid tail.

Though, at this moment, she really could be doing without it.

Marinette growls, looking irritatedly down at her scales, gleaming pink as they reflect in the sunlight. Her tail serves her well underwater, definitely, but it has become completely and utterly inconvenient on land: flopping uselessly as she tries to make her way to her next class.

She has no intention of transforming back to her original form, of course, but some other students thought it would be oh-so-funny to force her to do so— attacking while Alya wasn’t with her, so they knew Marinette would be stuck without being able to do anything about it.

After all, it's common knowledge that a transformed mermaid exposed to water would automatically revert back to her original form, and stay like that until they dried up— which meant one thing:

Because of a couple of immature college kids with water balloons, she’d miss her next class.

Again.

They're only too lucky that a mermaid using their powers is illegal, or they’d be in a whole new hell of trouble.

The sudden ring of Marinette’s phone distracts the mermaid from her thoughts, as she quickly retrieves it and answers the call.

“Girl, where are you?” The voice asks on the other line. “I dropped by Mme. Mendeleiev’s class and you’re not there yet? You know she’s tired of you being late all the time.”

Marinette groans, running a wet hand down her face. “Water balloons.” She only responds, flatly.

“Oh.”

From the static of the phone call, she can hear a hiccup, evidently her friend's poor attempt at trying to hide her laughter.

“It’s not funny, Alya!” Marinette cries, hissing as a few teenagers point and take out their phones to record her. “I’m stuck in the middle of the goddamn quad because of you land mammals ,” she spits. “Your species sucks.”

 “Hey, not all of us!” Alya protests back. “I’m a great land mammal.” The line suddenly goes silent, as Alya pauses if in thought. “Why don’t you just dry up? Where’s your towel?”

“Sure you are,” Marinette only drawls. “And it’s still wet; this wasn’t the first attack I got today.” She snarls, tightening her grip around her phone. “Now get over here and help me out. It’s hot and if another teenager tries to take a video of me, I’m going to end up breaking more than a few laws, and that’ll get us both in trouble.”

A gasp. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

From the other line, Marinette hears sudden scuffling and books being thrown into her bag. “Fine, fine, give me fifteen minutes. I’m on my way.”

“Hurry up,” the mermaid responds curtly, before hanging up the phone.

She sighs, putting away the gadget, and looking upward. “This is so annoying,” Marinette complains, squinting as the sun shines down on her. Muttering to herself, she grabs at her tail in an attempt to drag it to some place that was shadier, with little to no success.

Marinette glares at her lower half.

Betrayal.

Humans are the absolute worst.

She decides that the next person who even attempts to look, much less talk to her, would understand why mermaids remained as creatures to be feared.

— And as it turned out she didn’t have to wait long, a cautious tap on her shoulder sending a sudden shiver down her spine.

Who the hell is dumb enough to touch a mermaid without her consent?

“What?” Marinette finally snaps, turning (with great difficulty) to the guilty party.

Only to flounder as bright green eyes meet her icy blue ones.

“I’m sorry,” the boy says, an awkward laugh escaping him. “I just thought you might need help,” he begins, clumsily gesturing at the lower half of her body, “with… all that.”

Marinette squeaks, a high-pitched sound of disbelief, before laughing— a notch too high for it to be considered genuine. “Oh, this? ” She asks, awkwardly patting at her tail. “This is nothing! No big deal! I’m cool, I’m cool, it’s cool… because I’m a mermaid, get it, it’s always cool underwater, haha …”

An awkward pause.

She cringes.

Did she really just say that?

Marinette wants to swim into the deepest trench in the ocean and stay in there.

Until she hears laughter.

The mermaid looks up, and to her complete surprise, the boy is laughing: amusement evident in his expression.

“Yeah!” He smiles ( a toothy grin that rivals even the rarest pearls she had scavenged back at home ), then continues. “That’s really funny, Marinette.”

She pauses, looking at him in disbelief. “You know my name?”

“Of course!” He replies, that same kind look in his eyes. “You did make quite a splash when you got here,” he winks.

That's corny.

Really corny.

So why in Poseidon’s name does she find that absolutely adorable?

“And I’m also studying mythology,” the apparent student continues. “I see you around the building sometimes.”

So the very pretty human boy who reminds her of sunshine (the good kind— warm and comforting, the kind of sunlight that reminded her of home; not the heated and dry sun that‘d been constantly beating her down as soon as she started living on land) knows her name.

That's nice.

Marinette continues looking at him, dumbstruck.

As if only realizing something, he smiles, offering his hand. “I’m Adrien, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

She stutters, awkwardly taking it. 

His hands are smooth — nothing like the rough and calloused hands of the land people she’d met thus far.

“I— uh— Marinette.”

The corners of his mouth tilt upward. “Yes, I know.” He laughs.

Oh.

Right .

Why is she so nervous? This isn’t like her at all.

“So, about my offer?”

“Huh?” Marinette asks, still reeling from the sudden attention.

The mermaid isn’t used to his attitude, after all, knowing that most humans typically don’t take all that kindly to her species.

Friendliness, Marinette isn’t quite used to yet.

(Alya being the sole exception. If she arrives in the next five minutes, at least.)

The amused smile never leaves the human’s— Adrien’s face. “You’re a literal fish out of water. I don’t think you’re stuck here because you want to, right?”

She nods, the joke easily going over her head, as she remembers what happened. “Some girls thought it’d be funny to force me to transform back here.” Marinette growls. “You humans are all the same —.”

A pause, as she looked at the friendliness in his eyes.

There's no hostility, fear, or disgust in them.

It's a nice change of pace.

“Well, most of you are, anyway,” she amends, then gestures down the rest of her body. “I’m stuck like this until I dry up.”

Adrien hums, sympathetic. “That’s pretty inconvenient.”

“It is,” Marinette agrees. “But my friend’s on the way, so don’t worry— I mean ," she pauses, "not to say that you were worrying about me or anything, I’m just…”

The mermaid fumbles on her words, before resignedly just shutting up. “That is to say, I’ll be just fine.”

Adrien quirks an eyebrow, before looking around. “Really? Your friend’s nowhere to be seen, are you sure you‘ll be okay?” He pauses. “And don’t you have class with Mme. Mendeleiev right now?”

Okay, now he has to be some kind of mind-reader, right?

(Not all that farfetched, considering the co-existence of humans and mermaids in their world.)

“Wh— how do you know that?

“I’m actually her TA,” he explains. “I keep track of all her students and classes. So helping you would actually be doing my job.”

“No, it’s really alright—”

“I have some papers to give her anyways, so it’s on the way,” he points out, patting his messenger bag. Then, his lips quirk upward. “And besides, I’m pretty sure you’re in danger of being dropped from her class if you’re late again.”

She gulps.

Of course he’d know about that, wouldn’t he?

Marinette sighs, defeated. “Fine,” she began. “There should be some towels in the restrooms; it’s a little far, but if you could—”

“No time,” Adrien only states, suddenly kneeling down in front of her. “I think you only have five minutes before you’re late, and it’s a ten-minute walk to our building.”

He grins, before suddenly scooping his arms under her tail and waist, raising her up.

Marinette can’t stop the surprised squeak escape her throat, as she feels herself get lifted off the ground.

The cute boy is carrying her.

And not just any carry, but a princess carry .

“What are you doing put me down I’m gonna scream …” Marinette rushes to say, swatting helplessly at his chest.

This is so undignified for a mermaid, to have some human’s filthy hands on her —

Adrien smiles.

Marinette feels her mermaid-equivalent of a human heart skip a beat.

Then, he winks.

She's sure she's the color of her tail, now.

“Let’s go!” He only says, before running with surprising speed, so light and quick on his feet that she feels like she's flying. His hold on her didn’t falter either, carrying the mermaid with both strength and gentleness.

It's a strange feeling, being in his arms.

But as he easily runs into the building and up four flights of stairs, she decides that it's not entirely uncomfortable, maybe .

.

.

Marinette shows up in the nick of time, only a few minutes before she’d officially be considered late.

Mme. Mendeleiev looks at the two as they burst into her classroom, hands crossed against her chest. “Late again, Marinette?” She asks, evidently unamused.

The mermaid is about to protest, until Adrien decides to speak up:

“Actually, ma’am, Marinette’s just in time.”

“I take attendance at 10:15 sharp, Adrien.”

“And she got here at,” Adrien exhales, out-of-breath, as he looks at his phone, showing the lock screen. “10:14,” he states.

Mme. Mendeleiev pauses, eyes narrowing at the two, before sighing.

“Fine,” the professor sighs. “There are towels at the back. Dry yourself up then take your seat, Marinette,” she states, then pointedly looks at Adrien. “And you,” Mme. Mendeleiev stares at the floor, dripping wet from their entrance. “Go get a mop and clean up this mess…”

The sudden “woah!” from outside following a crash makes her frown.

“... before anyone gets hurt.”

Adrien has the decency to offer a sheepish smile, before immediately nodding, helping the mermaid to the back, then setting her down.

“Sorry for getting you in trouble,” Marinette mutters, apologetic, taking the towel in her hands. “And giving you extra work to do.”

He shrugs, visibly unbothered, as the kind smile remains on his face.

“You didn’t get me in trouble, I decided to do this myself.” He responds. “I couldn’t leave you alone helpless like that.”

“You’d be the first,” she points out, using the towel to wipe her hair. “I guess humans aren’t all that bad.”

“Yeah,” Adrien chimes, a bright laugh escaping him as he runs a hand down his wet hair. “Not all of us land mammals suck, I can promise you that.”

Marinette manages to look the slightest bit embarrassed. “You heard that, huh?”

He smiles. “Yup,” he responds easily, before leaning over to her ear. “But I get you. Some humans really stink up here.” He wrinkles his nose, then scrunches his nose up in a way that she can only describe as absolutely adorable. “Must be because they aren’t taking a bath 24/7.”

Marinette feels herself laugh, ready to reply, when—

“What’s taking so long?”

Mme. Mendeleiev finally barks, glaring at the two.

The two look at each other, then burst into laughter.

“Guess that means I have to go,” Adrien says lightly, then bends down, kissing her hand. “I’ll sea you around, Marinette!”

He runs out, and for the first time, Marinette feels like she's falling.

Or sinking , if she's being technical about it.

[misteria247]

Forgotten

Chapter Six

It was infuriating being forced to sit quietly while his hands are bound to keep him from getting away. Casey had explained what had happened while he continued to glare at the group of strangers that currently resided in the room with him. It was making him uncomfortable how they all gave him looks of various emotions all directed at him in some way. The rat was looking at him like he'd just watched him be stabbed right in front of him, the perfect picture of grief and disbelief. The red turtle was looking at him in anger and pain, almost as if he had no idea how to handle what he'd been told by Casey and April. The purple turtle was looking at him with concern and despair. And the last one, the orange turtle was looking at him like he'd personally shanked him in the kidney. Betrayal and confusion all over his expression.

It made him feel uncomfortable and to his confusion slightly guilty. He couldn't help but feel like it was his fault that they were feeling this way even though he didn't know these people. These strangers who kept calling him Leo, who kept looking at him like he was something important. It made him uneasy. It made him feel conflicted and on edge even more so than he'd originally been.

'I wish I had stayed in my forest.....'

He thought in a bitter manner. With each passing moment he found himself regretting his decision to leave his home in the forest more and more. Surely he could have taken those strangers in the forest near his shack on. He was decently strong and could fight well enough. If he'd just remained calm and thought things through then the people with the red footprint would have no longer have been a problem. But no. Instead he panicked and ran away hiding in an old pickup truck and making his way to this cursed place and being caught like an animal in a trap. He had no one to blame but himself for the situation he was in, no matter how much it unnerved him and made him afraid. The turtle was knocked out of his head by the sudden accented voice filling the room.

"So what are we gonna do Casey?? If what you're saying is true then that means that our brother doesn't even know who we are!! How are we gonna fix him?!?"

The red turtle snapped, frustration seeping into his tone. Casey didn't seem too bothered by his outburst, the man just reminded quiet as the turtle yelled.

"I don't know Raph. If I knew how to fix this I would have and you know that!"

Casey responded in a somewhat irritated manner despite the calmness he radiated. The red turtle, Raph was quick to jump on the tone his eyes narrowing into slits. But before he could say anything in response the purple turtle and April were in between them, quickly trying to defuse the situation before it exploded out of proportion.

"Raph calm down! I get you're upset, we all are but if we lose our heads now then we'll be of no help to Leo!"

The taller turtle exclaimed, his reddish brown eyes filled with nervousness and pain. Raph turned an angry green eyed stare towards him, the obvious frustration and newfound grief getting to him.

"How can I calm down when Leo's like this Donnie?!? How can I not lose my head when he doesn't even know who we are anymore?!?"

Raph exploded. Chaos erupted shortly after with several voices speaking to try and get Raph to calm down and to keep Casey from snapping. The giant rat was quick to try and get to his boys while the two humans were speaking over one another. He sat there silently, curling in on himself due to all the noise. He wasn't used to chaotic atmospheres like this, he was used to the peaceful atmosphere of his forest and the welcoming embrace of the trees and other wildlife that he'd lived in. As the group continued to somewhat shout at one another he was suddenly startled by the presence sitting near him. Dark nervous blue eyes quickly flickered in the direction of the unknown presence only to meet baby blue hues filled with concern and nervousness. The orange turtle had moved closer to him during the confusion, keeping a watchful eye on him the entire time he moved closer. The turtle stiffened in slight fear and stress as the smaller one moved a bit more towards him.

"Stay back."

He hissed in what he hoped was a threatening manner. The other turtle didn't pay any heed to him instead moving a little bit closer. At this point he was practically invading his space, just close enough to make out his features yet far enough that he wouldn't be able to cause any damage to the younger turtle. It scared him how undeterred the orange turtle was to move closer despite the earlier threat on his life.

"Get away....! I'm warning you if you don't back off right now I'll-"

His threat was cut off by the gentle hand that suddenly touched his shell. He felt the air leave his lungs as he froze in his place, his mind going blank from the bold move. It took a moment for him to realize what the other teen was doing. He was rubbing his shell in a soothing way, gentle circles touching the hardened surface in an attempt to give comfort. It left him stunned, unable to understand nor believe in what was happening. The other turtle continued the gentle gesture, keeping a focused gaze on him.

"It's....it's okay bro. I know you're scared and confused but.....but it'll be okay. I promise. You don't need to be scared anymore."

He said softly, his voice sounded innocent and kind. It baffled him how this other turtle's voice seemed to actually make him relax much to his horror. He didn't understand exactly why he found this fellow turtle teen suddenly comforting, why he couldn't attack him like he'd threatened earlier. Confused dark blue eyes watched him as he continued to comfort him.

"Why....why are you....?"

He croaked softly startling the other teen. Big blue eyes looked at him before soften slightly.

"Cause you need us.....just like we need you. You need me right now and I'm gonna be there for you because you're my big brother and...."

The younger turtle paused seemingly in thought for a brief moment.

"And you'd do the same thing for me if I was in your shoes....."

He finished staring at him head on. The older turtle sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He'd never met this child before in his entire life, yet the way he looked at him and the way he spoke to him......it was so sincere. Unbearably sincere that it threw him off. It was at this point that he'd realized that the room had gone suspiciously silent which made him tense up again in unease. Tearing his gaze from the other he looked to see that the group that had been arguing had gone silent, their eyes watching the two interact. The purple turtle had what looked like a somewhat small smile on his face, his gap in his teeth peeking out a bit.

"Well it seems like Mikey already has the right idea on how to help him."

The tall turtle Donnie said seemingly relieved. The shorter turtle Raph was looking between them with an unreadable expression but his posture was relaxed now.

"Of course it'd be the baby of the family. Leo always had a soft spot for ya."

Raph said in a gruff tone. The rat was watching them with a small sorrowful smile before looking at Casey and April.

"Thank you both for finding my son. We're forever in your debt."

He said giving a grateful look towards the humans.

"We were happy to do it Master Splinter. Leo's family after all."

April said softly her gaze landing on him. He just stared back at her, confusion and caution on his face.

"I'd keep the zip ties on him till you get home at least. Leo maybe docile now but I've got a feeling that once that wears off he'll go and try to kick someone's ass."

Casey said in a blunt manner. Donnie gave him a small glare at the reminder of the zip ties that currently bound him and cut into his wrists. The orange turtle, Mikey frowned as he took in his wrists obviously not liking it. Raph and Master Splinter just stiffened a bit before surprisingly letting it go.

"Noted. I think it's time to head home, I've got to go check over his wounds and make sure he isn't hurt anywhere else."

Donnie said in a deathly calm voice. It made the tied up turtle stiffen even more at the underlying threat.

'If you ever do something like this again you'll regret it friend or not.'

Was the unsaid thing that hung in the air. Casey nodded understanding perfectly. He didn't have time to process anymore before he felt two strong arms wrap around him and yank him up only to throw him over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He felt himself panic a bit at the sudden touch and started to squirm to try and break free.

"Hey, hey! Careful Fearless you're gonna get hurt even more if you keep squirming!"

Raph's gruff tone filled his ears. Dark blue eyes quickly moved around the room in a slight panic before Mikey's eyes came into view, Donnie and Master Splinter watching him with a concerned look.

"It's okay we're just taking you home bro. We're not gonna hurt you, I promised remember?"

Mikey spoke in a somewhat soft voice to try and help him relax. The turtle looked at the group that currently had him, looking for any signs of a lie. Seeing nothing but the same sincerity that Mikey had he relaxed much to his dismay and allowed Raph to carry him. All too soon they were out of the apartment and heading towards a large vehicle where with surprisingly gentle hands Raph settled him inside. Once the others had hopped into the large truck they drove away, the apartment that held April and Casey disappearing behind them. Despite the nervousness and still lingering fear that prickled in the back of his mind he couldn't help but feel safer somewhat. He didn't know these people but they hadn't harmed him yet so he was going to go with it. If worse came to worse he could escape later. The turtle teen suddenly felt exhausted as the events of the day started to hit him full force. He shook himself to try and stay awake until a gentle rubbing to his shell relaxed him. Blinking he found himself looking at the red turtle Raph who was doing the same thing Mikey had done earlier. Bright green eyes softened slightly and no longer holding the earlier frustration and anger.

"Get some sleep Fearless. I'll make sure you're okay."

Raph said softly, somewhat embarrassed by his own voice. That was all it took for him to lean on the short tempered teen as he finally gave into sleep and leaving his fate up to the unknown future.

*I'm alive and yet somewhat dead whoop-! Okay so obviously our boy Leo is having a not so fun time with all of this but luckily he's got his family to help him out! Also I couldn't pass up some Mikey, Raph and Leo bonding time even if it's incredibly short and protective Donnie was a must. As this series goes on it'll focus on all of the family bonding with Leo and helping him in anyway they can. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!*

[trickstersteve]

Flowers of Fate

Loki x Reader

Author: Mel @trickstersteve 

This was written for the @captain-rogers-beard​ Flex Your Writing Muscles Challenge 

Prompt: June 1st (prompts used are in bold)

Summary: Loki finds himself back on Midgard.

Warnings: Angst, some fluff. Think that’s it but do let me know if I’ve missed any.

Words: 2367

A/N: Kjæresta is an old Norse term of endearment. While the literal translation means girlfriend, it can also mean “darling” or “beloved”. The other terms kjæren min, and kjære are variations that mean “my dear/my love”, and “dear” respectively.

Stepping uncertainly through the portal, Loki braced himself for what lay beyond. The instant he touched solid ground, the doorway behind him closed, sucking the air from around him and making his ears pop. Wincing, he looked around. Instead of bright lights and deafening sounds like the last place, he found himself in a sunny golden field with nothing but the sounds of birds in the distance.

Where have you brought me this time? he wondered, looking down at the Tesseract between his hands before sending it into his pocket dimension.

Such as it had been since he took the cube from under everyone’s noses and escaped. Since then, he’d traveled, wandering aimlessly wherever the Tesseract deemed fit, passing through distant planets and far off galaxies. Whether it had been only weeks or years was difficult to tell. He’d lost track of time somewhere along the way.

He just knew he was tired of running.

A croak drew him from his thoughts. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he looked towards the source of the sound. A crow was perched on one of the extended arms of some kind of effigy. Arching a brow, he studied the sight. It stood at least two heads taller than him - to be seen over the ears of corn beyond it, Loki gathered - and hung from a post protruding from the ground. The clothes were somewhat familiar, albeit ill fitting and worn judging by the straw exposed by a tear in the fabric.

Midgard.

I am back within the Nine.

That knowledge filled him both with dread and relief. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he transformed from his usual attire into something more appropriate for the realm.

A gasp drew his attention back to the straw effigy. Narrowing his eyes, he passed them over the mannequin until they landed on a small wide-eyed child partially hidden by the post. How had he managed to sneak up on him?

“Hello.”

“You glowed,” the child stated as pressed himself closer to the post. Loki frowned as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“I did.”

“With magic?” Loki nodded, a smirk pulling at his lips. The boy’s eyes sparkled as he gave Loki a tooth-gapped smile. “Are you a wizard?” he asked, his voice an awed whisper.

Loki chuckled softly at the Midgardian term. He took the few steps needed bridge the gap between them, kneeling so he could be level with the child. “I suppose I am,” he answered, draping an arm over his knee. “What is your name little one?”

“Manni,” the boy replied as he rubbed his nose, leaving behind a trace of dirt.

Loki looked around them, wondering why the child was alone. “What are you doing out here?”

The boy shrugged. “I live here.” He turned and pointed behind him at the cornfield. “That way. Mom says I can’t go past the scarecrow though,” he added as he looked up at the effigy.

“Scarecrow?”

“Yeah, you know, to scare birds and stuff,” Manni explained with a half-shrug.

Loki arched a brow as he observed a second crow land on the scarecrow’s head and begin pruning. “It does not seem to be working,” he stated making Manni giggle.

A voice called from not too far off and they both looked towards the source. Manni turned and faced Loki with a dramatic sigh.

“That’s my mom,” he said. “I have to go ‘cause my aunt Y/N’s coming over for supper.” He pushed himself away from the scarecrow and walked towards the cornfield. “Bye Mr. Wizard,” Manni added with a wave before disappearing between the stalks.

Loki remained kneeling, his mind reeling at the name the boy had uttered. A name he’d not heard for what felt like a lifetime. Surely that couldn’t be his Y/N. Could it?

He stood, brushing off the dirt from his knee. Closing his eyes, he summoned an object into his hand. Unclenching his fist after the green shimmer encompassing it vanished, Loki unwrapped a small fabric bundle, revealing a dried lily, its scent long gone from centuries hidden away.

A flower she had given him.

He could still remember her laugh, a melody that could rival any birdsong. Her rose and honeysuckle scented hair that tickled his face as she lay against him. He could still recall every inch of her skin as it shivered under his touch. How her fingers seared him with desire as she absently traced patterns on his chest afterwards. Her eyes, filled with such love only for him. His kjæresta.

Loki’s fingers ghosted over the faded petals as he choked back a sob threatening at the back of his throat.

“Forever and always,” she’d told him when she’d placed her token of affection in his hand.

A promise.

A lie.

The Allfather had seen to that.

A minor slight and Y/N’s father had been sentenced to death and she and her family banished. A slight that proved to be a misunderstanding.

Loki had bargained. Pleaded. Had all but begged his father to reconsider the banishment. All to bring her back.

In vain.

He’d gone to the Norns then. He wanted - no, needed - answers as to why they made it happen. Loki had demanded that of them. Why give him something so precious and tear it from him.

He’d expected them to send him away, to ignore him. To do anything other than what they did. With expressionless faces, they instead beckoned him closer. A silver light - a shimmer really - appeared between them, floating like a reflection on the waves, and they let him into their circle. He stood there among the Norns. One of them nodded and he reached out. He twisted his fate between his fingers. Not to manipulate or change. They would not allow that. Merely to see. To understand.

But he hadn’t then. The privilege had only led to more questions. Above all, would he ever see her again?

Wordlessly, they had taken it back and with a wave of a hand, dismissed him. The knowledge of his future and all that would happen, faded from his mind with every step he took away from those women. All but one image.

A glimpse. Nothing more.

A glimpse of light and of hope.

A glimpse that he’d clung to through everything thereafter.

A glimpse that taunted him. Mocked him every time he closed his eyes.

A glimpse that almost broke him when his life had become nothing more than darkness and despair.

Another lie. Just one more amidst of a lifetime of lies and betrayals.

Silently cursing the Norns, Loki stared down at the lily in his hand. Oh how he’d wanted above everything to be rid of it. To toss it into the void and be done clinging to false hopes and childish loves.

But he never could. Not when it was all he had left of her.

“Forever and always,” he whispered to the ancient token as he delicately wrapped it back in the worn fabric before placing it in his breast pocket.

He looked back towards where the child had disappeared. He hesitated. Dare he hope after all these years?

There was only one way to find out for sure.

Smoothing his hands over his suit, Loki took a deep breath, and followed after the boy. ------ “Auntie Y/N!” Manni greeted, running to wrap his little arms around her waist. Y/N laughed as she brushed back his hair, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“How is my favorite nephew?” she asked, then licked her thumb to clean the dirt from his nose. Manni scrunched up his face in protest making Y/N chuckle.

“I’m good.”

Y/N gently untangled Manni’s arms from around her torso, instead clasping his hand in hers as they made their way through the yard. Her sister came around the house, her worried face changing to relief when she spotted her son with his aunt.

“There you are,” she said as she strode towards them, stopping only a short distance, her hands on her hips. “Where did you disappear to?”

“Out there,” he answered, pointing to the fields.

“Manni.”

“I stopped at the scarecrow!” he protested. Manni looked up at Y/N. “I met a wizard! Like in your stories.”

“A wizard?” Y/N asked in mock surprise, shooting an amused glance at her sister who shook her head with a chuckle. “What did he look like?”

“Tall.” Manni lifted his arm over his head and jumped to emphasize his point.

“That tall?” his mother chimed in. “He must have been a giant.”

Manni giggled. “Nooo. Not that tall mom,” he replied, letting go of Y/N’s hand and running to his mother.

“My mistake,” she teased as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing his back to her. He looked up at her.

“He glowed too!”

Y/N arched a brow as a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. Her nephew did have quite the imagination and she loved that of him.

“Where is he now?” she asked him, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

Manni shrugged. “Still by the scarecrow I guess.”

Y/N and her sister looked at each other and her sister rolled her eyes. Movement in behind them drew their attention to the man emerging from between the corn stalks.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she suddenly laid her eyes on a face she’d not seen in centuries. His raven hair was longer and he was paler than she remembered but it was the intensity in his eyes that drew her. Those piercing green eyes that stared at her as though he couldn’t believe she was there. Those were the same.

It can’t be!

“That’s him! That’s the wizard!” Manni exclaimed to his mother, pointing to the newcomer.

His eyes flitted to the boy before coming back to rest on her. “Y/N?”

The low, velvety voice, full of doubt and longing was unmistakeable. It was him! She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes because she couldn’t believe that the man standing before her was the same who had whispered in her ear, had teased her and had cherished her a lifetime ago.

But it couldn’t be him. Not after all those years she stopped searching for him in the crowds. Not after she’d abandoned her dreams of seeing him again. Of hearing her name spoken from his lips like she was his everything.

And yet, there he stood. In a suit that fit his lithe frame like a glove. A suit so black, it looked almost green the way the light hit it.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Y/N took a shaky breath lest her voice betray her.

“Loki?”

-----

Loki stood there frozen, his legs seemingly planted in the ground.She had not changed since the last time he saw her. She walked towards him. Slowly. Tentatively. When she was just a hair’s breath away, she lifted her hand. He tensed as his breathing became laboured, his gaze following her every movement. She cupped his face in her hand and he closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.

“You’re real,” she whispered. “I never thought -”

He mirrored her gesture as his free hand came up and clasped hers still resting on his cheek. She was there. Centuries believing he would never see her again. Centuries losing hope of hearing his name on her lips once more.

“Kjæren min,” he breathed.

A sob escaped her lips at the old endearment. In that moment he wanted to crumbled to his knees, beg her forgiveness anything and everything. Instead, he wrapped her in a hug, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the faint smell of honeysuckle that was so familiar and yet not. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly, each fearing that if they let go, the other would disappear. Loki’s hand came up and gently grasped Y/N’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, drawing her face up to meet his. Leaning in, his lips brushed hers. Rising up on her toes, she met him, gently at first, then deepening the kiss with a desperation and a yearning neither anticipated.

“Does this mean the wizard is going to stay with Aunt Y/N now?” Manni asked his mother.

Breaking from the kiss with a laugh, Loki pressed his forehead to Y/N’s. “Only if she will have me little one,” he answered softly as he reached into his breast pocket. He unwrapped the small parcel and Y/N’s eyes widened when she saw what it contained.

“You kept it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she brushed the wilted flower with shaky fingers.

“Forever and always kjære.” She stared up at him, her eyes shining before looking away and wiping away a stray tear as she choked out a laugh.

“Forever and always,” she echoed turning back to him.

Loki let out a sigh of relief as he secured the flower back in his pocket and then claimed her lips once more. Breaking for air, she clung to him, resting her face against his chest. He held her, with one hand entwining in her hair as he kissed the top of her head.

He blinked back the tears brimming his eyes and that’s when he saw it. The glimpse of fate that had followed and haunted him for ages. Right there in front of him. And it was then that he realized.

It had not been a taunt, nor a mockery. It had not been some cruel joke by the Norns at his expense.

It had been the answer to his unspoken question.

It had been a beacon. A light in his darkness.

Leading him back to her.

Forever and always.

Y/N gently pushed herself away and stared up at him with softness in her eyes. “Come,” she said with a smile as she took his hand. “Let’s go home.”

Home. The Norns have led me home.

Loki chanced one last look as he and Y/N walked hand in hand towards the house before turning his attention to his kjæresta, leaving behind the lone sunflower to sway gently with the breeze in the light of the setting sun.

[fantasticstoryteller]

Human Heart

This particular hallway of the League Satellite was kept dark. The dim lighting deterred most escape attempts, as most humans—even those with powers—felt a peculiar vulnerability in the darkness. Not so with the most recent—visitor.

Kal-el frowned as he made his way down the corridor, his eyes easily seeing through the darkness. There were many things that did not add up about the new visitor to this section. Many things that just weren’t right.

After the split, when Batman had gone on the run, they’d had few leads. Every single time he or one of his allies got to where Batman had been the masked crusader was gone. Rumors flew and disrupted the peace that Kal-el had fought so hard to establish amongst the masses. The whole thing was a mess of subterfuge, sabotage, and rumors.

Then, suddenly, they found him. They managed to track down a scientist who claimed he was going to summon a savior from the evil Superman.

Kal-el mentally snorted. Evil Superman. As though those he’d destroyed had deserved pity.

He’d done something though. His machine had opened a portal to—somewhere—and out came Batman. Or rather Bruce Wayne. Because although the man was in the suit, his helmet was off. Batman never took his helmet off when there were people around, but this man didn’t seem to think much of it.

And then there was what happened when they’d grabbed him. He didn’t fight, yell, or try to run away. He just hung there limply and did what he was told, like he was broken.

Kal-el had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, a broken Bat was not a problem. A broken Bat was not going to be sowing seeds of dissent or trying to organize a rebellion.

On the other, the two of them had been friends, at the very least. He didn’t want to see his friend in trouble, or sad. But this could not keep on like it had been.

He stopped in front of the cell that Batman was locked in. The costumed hero was slumped over, arms resting on his legs as he stared despondently at the floor in front of him. His eyes, from what Kal-el could see, were shadowed and there were thin lines of pain around the stubborn mouth. “Hi Clark,” he said, without looking up. “Is this my intervention?”

Kal-el was not prepared for the stab of emotion from the sound of his former name. He could remember far more intimate times when that name was spoken—times it had been spoken with a smile, a laugh, or a pleasant gasp. He almost couldn't focus on the question: intervention? What was Batman talking about?

No, Kal-el decided as he looked at the shaggy head in front of him. This wasn’t Batman—this was Bruce. And Bruce, who had always been sure to be perfectly meticulous in how he appeared to other people was unkempt. His hair was a little too long, and ragged as though bits had been hacked off. There was a subtle line of stubble on his face, where he hadn’t shaved. The suit too, the suit was wrinkled and had spots that, in any other color, would have been stains.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Clark, Kal-el asked.

Bruce rubbed his face with a hand. “I was in the lab,” he said wearily, “with my latest unhealthy coping mechanism and a portal opened, sucking me through. Then you came.”

Coping mechanism. For what? Clark kept his voice even and his tone as level as possible as he spoke. “You were abducted from your world.” Bruce looked up and there was the oddest glimmer in his eyes, almost like hope. “We’re looking into a way to send you back,” Clark added.

The hope died and Bruce slumped over again. “Kay,” he said wearily.

“Try to get some sleep Bruce,” Clark said kindly. “I’ll be back soon.” He turned and headed to the bridge, knowing that Diana had been recording everything.

Diana leaned against the console as little Damian, abandoned by his true father, worked the controls. The controls and his expression; Clark recognized the carefully blank expression from when the boy was first brought to the satellite, and his heart twisted. The boy shouldn't have to deal with this on top of having his own father reject him.

“Do you think it’s true?” Diana asked coldly. Once, the three of them had been friends. Now she hated Bruce almost as much as he hated them.

“I believe that scientist was trying to summon another Batman to help the one that’s here overthrow us.” At the controls Damian twitched and Clark gently laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. No matter what the boy’s father said or did, Damian would have a place in the satellite as long as he wished to.

Diana snorted. “This one seems to be broken,” she said, echoing Clark—no, Kal-el’s own observation with vicious satisfaction. Then again—Diana had reason to hate Batman. To hate Bruce.

“He does.” Clark turned to the feed, trained on the cell where Bruce still sat, in that same defeated slump. The sight stirred something in him, something he’d thought had died. “I’ll see if I can find out what happened later.”

“The Russian Prime Minister has sent a message inquiring if you would be up to a press conference, to dictate the changes you have demanded they make in their educational system,” Damian said calmly as he brought up the coordinates of the proposed site on the screen.

Clark couldn't help but notice that the image of Bruce had merely been shrunk to a small corner of the large screen. He did not bring attention to it. “Does he?” he asked mildly. “If only all the countries were that accommodating.”

“On another note, LexCorp have requested—politely this time—that you grace a small service with a eulogy.”

Diana smirked at the screen. Kal-el couldn't help but note that her eyes were not on the information that Damian was bringing up, but on the small image of the captured and broken Bruce in the corner. “Are you going to do it?” she asked.

Was he? At one time, he and Lex had been friends. Best friends, in spite of the fact that Clark had been a poor farm boy and Lex had been the heir to one of the most powerful corporations on the planet. Even now, after all this time, he wasn’t certain where the relationship had soured. Why Lex had become his enemy. And sometimes, even though he would never admit it to either Diana or Damian, he wondered if there had been another way to end that conflict.

“Perhaps. Does the Russian Prime Minister have a time for that press conference?” asked Kal-el.

Damian, ever the perfect worker, called the information back up for Kal-el despite the frequent glances at their captured Bruce. “He would like to set it up at your earliest convenience,” Damian said primly.

Kal-el nodded. According to their global clock, Russia was in its early morning. “Contact him back and schedule a meeting in three hours from now. And Damian.” The boy twisted in his seat looking at Kal-el for the first time since Kal-el had entered the room. He softened his voice to the young one. “You will always have a place here,” he said gently.

Damian bit his lip and nodded and Kal-el looked at Diana. “Keep an eye on things?” he asked her.

She grimaced. “Don’t ask me to talk to him,” she said grimly.

His lips turned up in a smile. “I’m asking you not to kill him,” he said gently before he turned and left. He had a press conference, after all.

***

Kal-el took a chair with him for his next visit. He didn’t think he’d get the answers he needed from Broken Bruce if he was looming over the man. He set the chair up in front of the cell and carefully settled into it. Broken Bruce did not look like he had moved. Kal-el wondered if the man had even slept.

If it had been the Batman here, Kal-el knew the man wouldn't have slept because he would have been too wary. Too busy looking around; looking for a way to escape. Never mind there was no way to escape the satellite now.

This Bruce, Broken Bruce, looked as if he hadn’t slept because to lay the body down for sleep would require moving. “You don’t look like you’ve gotten any sleep,” Kal-el pointed out. He didn’t mean to���but he always had trouble reigning in his tongue when talking to Bruce.

Broken Bruce’s eyes fluttered slightly. “I can’t stand the images in my brain,” he confessed. “When I close my eyes, they’re all I see.”

What? What was Broken Bruce seeing? What had happened to his poor friend?

There would be time for that later. Diana had, rightfully, told Kal-el that he needed to explain to Broken Bruce why he was in a cell. According to her and Damian, Broken Bruce wasn’t eating, wasn’t drinking, and would soon collapse in an unrecoverable state. As much as they disliked their own Bruce at the moment, there was something that struck all of them as wrong watching this one die. After all, this wasn’t the Bruce that had attacked them, rejected them, and was trying to destroy them.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Kal-el said after a moment, “that you’re in a prison cell.”

“No,” said Bruce, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Another hint that this was Bruce and not the Bat; Bruce had no problem showing any kind of emotion, but the Bat was always stoic. “It got by me.”

Clark ignored the sarcasm. “There’s a reason for it,” he said earnestly, willing this Bruce to listen. “Our Batman…went insane.” Broken Bruce looked up and he continued, “He’s attacked all of us, and tried to kill all of us.”

“What,” Broken Bruce was clearly in shock. “But that’s—why?”

Something about that plaintive cry cracked Kal-el back into Clark. “I don’t know,” he admitted, hanging his own head. Both and Bruce had agreed that something needed to be done about Lex. The man had gone insane, was destroying lives, and had even turned his sights upon the League itself. They hadn’t even realized they had an enemy until after several of them had already perished. Green Lantern. Green Arrow. Flash. And Lex would. Not. Stop. There had been no choice, and Bruce’s betrayal afterwards had stung far deeper than he’d wanted to admit. Clark cleared his throat before continuing. “I was all right, well, I usually am. Diana had a close call though—”

Broken Bruce’s eyes snapped fully open and he stared at Clark before blurting, “Diana’s alive?!”

Clark looked up in his own surprise. “Yes,” he said uncertainly. “Isn’t she where you’re from?”

For the first time Broken Bruce sits up. He leans back against the thin cot to where he’s leaning against the wall. Clark can’t help but take this as a good sign. “No,” said Bruce, his voice hoarse and sad. “She’s not.”

“What happened?”

Bruce gave a harsh, dry chuckle. “I’m not sure. We didn’t eve know anything was wrong, at first. One day Oliver missed to check in, but you know Arrow. He’s a little…” Bruce’s voice trailed off.

Bruce never did like criticizing the others, even when it came to helping them train. “Flighty?” suggested Clark.

A harsh bark of a chuckle. “Flighty. As good of a term as any. Next to miss check in was Hal, but we all thought that he’d been contacted on a Lantern thing.” Bruce grimaced. “They don’t really like the League much.”

“And if they don’t have to deal with us they don’t,” Clark finished. A part of him ached. It felt so good to be talking to Bruce again, even though he was seeing the beginning of what he’d managed to stop here, in this world.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his face again. “We didn’t know anything was wrong,” he repeated. “We thought—God, it seems stupid by now, but we thought we would know if something bad had happened to them.” Another broken laugh. “We were so stupid. We thought that just because Hal and Oliver are famous we’d know.”

Clark couldn't quite breathe. It was almost just like what had happened here, what he’d managed to stop. His heart reached out to Bruce, to the man who was so protective of his teammates that he filled in as a father for many of them. Scolding both Hal and Oliver for acting impulsively, teaching Barry and the others fighting techniques in addition to their powers. Listening as Clark himself rambled about all the things he couldn't do, the people that, even with all his power, he hadn’t been able to save.

“Then Barry missed check in, and we knew something was wrong.”

Of course they did. Barry was fast talking and fast moving, always had a smart quip for the situation—but he was also meticulous. He, more than any of the others, understood the point of check in. Barry missing check in had been when Clark had first noticed something was wrong as well—and shortly before they found the bodies.

Broken Bruce’s eyes closed and he looked—haunted, haggard. Clark wanted to reassure the man, but wasn’t sure how. “I’m still not certain what happened,” he said sadly. “One day the people just—turned on us. We went from being heroes and protectors to villains and forces of destruction. It got so bad that you—well, my world’s you—made the world an offer. All the heroes would retire to the satellite and would just—leave. They’d never have to see us again.”

Clark’s heart sunk as he wondered just how bad things had been for him to make that offer. He believed that everyone could be helped, that situations like that were only a matter of waiting it out. What had happened?

He didn’t ask, and Broken Bruce didn’t answer. “The world accepted it. I thought—I thought that the world only didn’t want super heroes, that those of us without power would be safe.” His head dropped again. “I was wrong,” he admitted.

Had Clark ever heard Batman or Bruce admit being wrong before? He knew, they all knew, that the Bat and his alter ego were fallible, but it was one thing to know it and quite another to admit it. Just another sign of how this Bruce was broken. Another sign of how this Bruce had been failed.

“It started with someone leaking Barbara’s identity.” Bruce sighed. “I don’t even know how they found it,” he admitted. “I never found out how. And Barbara’s not even in the game anymore! She was still in rehab after—after what the Joker did to her.”

This Clark knew. “The Joker is a madman Bruce,” he said as kindly as he could. “You can’t predict what a madman will do.”

“I should have been able to,” Bruce said wearily. “I should have stopped it, I should have gotten there—I should have found out someone was embezzling my funds to Arkham long before this!” Bruce snarled.

“I’m sorry Bruce,” Clark said as gently as he could.

Broken Bruce looked up, looked back down, and tucked his head under the shelter of his hands before he continued. “Alfred was taking Barbara to her rehabilitation appointment. It didn’t look odd, you know, for Wayne to fund her recovery since her dad and I were so close.” Bruce’s eyes stared out from the shade provided from his hands and looked positively haunted. “The mob closed in on them. They literally ripped her out of the wheelchair and apart. Alfred he—he tried to save her, but…” Bruce’s voice trailed off.

Alfred had raised Bruce. The man was like a father, mother, and protector all in one. The only person that both Bruce and Batman looked at with nothing less than respect. Clark could only imagine how horrific it had been for Bruce learning how Alfred had died.

“I got the boys up to the satellite,” Bruce said. “I couldn't—I couldn't wait for them. I got all of them, Jason, Tim, and Damian up there.” A wry smile twisted Bruce’s face. “Damian didn’t want to go. He thought it made him look weak to run—but he needed to be safe.” Another, broken laugh escaped  Broken Bruce. “I should have known better,” the man admitted as tears fell down his cheeks. “I would have been with them, would have made sure they stayed on the damn satellite, but there was Diana.”

Another reference. “What happened, Bruce?” Clark asked gently.

The tears hadn’t stopped. “The only reason Diana didn’t evacuate like the other super heroes were was because she was pregnant and no one knew what traveling through the atmosphere would do to the baby. The boys—they said they’d look after her. They were on a farm.” Broken Bruce met Clark’s eyes. “I surrounded that farm with alarms. I made sure they had any weapons they might need and that they couldn't do as I’d taught them and be non-lethal. It wasn’t an option anymore. And if it was just Tim and Jason I never would have allowed them to stay with Diana because while I know—knew—that Diana can kill if she needs to I also knew they can’t. But—but Damian was there.” Bruce let out a choked sob as tears streaked down his face. “When Damian first came to live with me I had to teach him not to kill. How to hold back. To see the criminal as a person—and he still had problems. I though they’d be all right.”

Bruce’s head dropped again, tears still streaming down his face. He didn’t react to them, and Clark was almost certain that he’d been crying so much that now he just didn’t notice. He didn’t want to watch Broken Bruce hurt anymore, but he had to know what happened. “They weren’t?” he asked softly, gently.

“I had to go back to Gotham. Wayne Industries employs millions of people, and I needed to make sure that they wouldn't be hurt when I left with my family. One day, during a board meeting I got an alert. I got out there as fast as I could, but—it was too late. I don’t know how it happened, or what force they had to deal with, but when I reached the cabin—I found what was left of Jason. Tim’s lifeless body was in the barn, where the car had been hidden. I think he tried to give them time to get away…the car was in flames. Diana and Damian were—” A sob choked Broken Bruce and he curled up on himself.

This Bruce had lost everybody. His entire family. Clark had never really been certain what the relationship between Bruce and Diana was—sometimes they squabbled like siblings and sometimes it looked like they were a hair’s breadth away from jumping into bed together—but they were still family. And Barbara, Batwoman, had been one of the children Bruce was fondest of. Learning what had happened,what the Joker had done had almost destroyed his Bruce. Native Bruce.

An idea struck Clark with more force than a sledgehammer. He turned it over in his mind. Was it a good idea? For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure. He’d have to ask for another opinion.

***

“Are you out of your mind?” demanded Diana coldly. She glared at Clark as her hands balled into fists by her sides.

“He’s not the Bruce that hurt you, Diana,” said Clark gently.

“So what?” demanded the warrior, eyes flashing dangerously. “This Bruce might not be the one who held the knife, but they’re all the same!”

“I don’t think they are,” Clark argued, staying just as gentle.

“Don’t take that tone with me Kal-el,” said Diana, her eyes narrowing in anger. “You know what he did.”

“Not this one,” Clark insisted. He turned to the other member. “What do you think, Damian?”

Only the slightest of tremors gave away the boy’s inner turmoil as he spoke. “I think that the satellite is a self-contained vessel and we will find out nothing of this—this new Batman’s plans if we do not allow him the ability to roam.”

Damian turned and looked at Diana. “And if he is roaming and does something, you can easily kill him. He’s only human.”

Diana looked thoughtful. Clark knew that what was changing her mind was the idea that she might be able to kill the man who had hurt her—even if it wasn’t the same man. “Very well,” she said tersely. “But don’t expect me to be nice just because of a sob story,” she added.

***

Despite his best efforts, Bruce’s eyes drifted closed. He could feel sleep starting to ambush him, the familiar hum of the machinery around him lulling him off. His body relaxed.

Fire danced inside his eyelids. Three sources for the fire. The car, huge and blistering. The larger body in front of it, as though it had been thrown through the windshield, flames leaping towards the safe haven of the heavens. The tiny body to the side, as though it had been thrown from the car in a futile effort to save it. The fires burning brightly, the light searing the inside of his eyes as the thick, black smoke choked the air. Burning, burning, burning—

Bruce sat up with a gasp of cool air that tasted of nothing more than the recycled air of the satellite. He was safe. Ironically, he was safe. He didn’t believe that any harm would come to him here.

“Are you all right?”

Bruce opened his eyes and met Clark’s own impossibly bright blue ones. The Kryptonian looked worried, a reaction that Bruce wasn’t use to seeing, not after their last fight.

“Forget about the humans, Bruce. They don’t want any of us anymore and we will leave!”

But then, Clark had had reason to be angry. Especially after what had happened to his son…

The clang of the cell door unlocking knocked Bruce from his thoughts. The door opened. For some reason Bruce hadn’t thought it would. “Come on, Bruce,” Clark said kindly, warmly.

Uncertain, Bruce got to his feet. “What’s going on?” he asked warily as he walked out of the cell. He paused at the threshold. Did he have the courage to leave? He knew he was safe in the cell, left alone with his—memories…

“We’ve agreed that since you’re not the Bruce that keeps trying to hurt us, that we’re going to let you roam the satellite for a bit. Get some exercise. Maybe find a place you can actually get some sleep.”

Sleep was the realm of nightmares. “I’m good,” he said firmly as he stepped outside the cell. A shudder ran through him and he wondered why he’d thought of the place as a safe haven. Maybe it was because a cell was exactly what he deserved for failing everyone. He wasn’t sure.

“Humans can’t survive without sleep, Bruce,” Clark said.

Bruce couldn't stop the low chuckle. He’d once said that to Clark, back when he’d thought the Kryptonian was nothing more than another reporter. “One of us learned,” he said wryly.

“More than we wanted to,” Clark said softly. He reached out and offered his hand to Bruce.

Once upon a time, Bruce would have ignored it.

Once upon a time, Bruce would have simply continued on his way.

Once upon a time, he hadn’t watched his friends and family die, one by one.

Bruce slipped his hand in Clark’s outstretched one and smiled gently at the look of joy on Clark’s face before Clark tugged him towards the center of the satellite. The cores were easier to temperature control than the exterior, and Clark took Bruce to the hydroponic section. Plants were growing. On one of the trellises was the common lima bean plant. The little plant would grow into any cracks in the side of a building, spread its leaves and held on through the late frosts of spring and still produced food. Bruce loved the plant.

Couldn’t stand the beans though, much to Alfred’s dismay.

“So you decided to show him our food supply?” demanded a harsh voice. A familiar voice. One he hadn’t expected to hear again. He whirled to see Diana. The bone deep relief he felt at the sight of her, whole and healthy, was broken as she continued to speak. “After all he’s done?” She turned her fierce glare towards him. “We’re watching you, Bat,” she spat at him. Then she whirled and stomped off before Bruce had a chance to react.

“Sorry,” Clark said. He rubbed the back of his neck, much the same way he had when the two of them had first met as reporter and playboy. “She’s—well, our Bruce hurt her, you see.”

“Oh.” Bruce sighed. “I’m glad she’s taking it easy on me,” he added.

“Oh?”

Bruce shrugged. “I’m not bleeding,” he pointed out. “Or dying. Diana can easily make both happen. I think we both know that I’m not—at my best right now.”

Clark shook his head, the cowlick flopping against his forehead. “You still have a talent for understatement. Let’s go to the bridge.” This time Clark didn’t hold his hand out for Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let it bother him. He was well known for his dislike of physical affection unless he was playing the part of the playboy—but it had been a long time since he’d touched someone. Clark was just trying to be considerate, Bruce knew. Still, he felt a little lost as he followed the Kryptonian through the satellite to the bridge.

The layout of the satellite was almost exactly the same as in his world. The only difference he could see was that the entry doors were situated a little to the left of center, instead of being exactly in the middle. The other thing was that it was so—empty. “Where is everyone?” Bruce asked as he followed Clark.

“We had some—issues,” Clark said carefully. “When our Bruce, Native Bruce, turned on us he—there aren’t very many of us left.”

That was horrifying. This world’s Bruce had killed his friends, killed the rest of the league? How made was he? Didn’t he see what he had, what he was destroying?

Bruce was occupied by his thoughts until they reached the bridge of the satellite. Clark suddenly stopped and Bruce almost ran into the Kryptonian. Then, Clark took a single step to the side and Bruce stared.

Bruce saw Damian, primly assuring him that he was the best to guard Diana.

Bruce saw Damian, nothing more than the fuel to light a macabre fire.

Bruce saw Damian, alive—whole and healthy, just like Diana.

He didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his face until he’d pulled the boy into his arms. The warm boy. The solid boy.

It wasn’t a dream. “You’re alive,” he breathed. He could feel the softness of Damian’s hair, smell that odd desert-like scent that the boy never seemed to shed, feel the tenseness of the muscles beneath him.

Damian let out a choked sob and hugged him back.

***

Bruce wasn’t actually aware of how much time had passed. Diana still glared at him when she saw him, but that was understandable. He was having trouble not hating this world’s version of himself. How could the man have so brutally hurt his own son? Didn’t he understand what a treasure the intelligent boy was?

Another, smaller part of him wondered—what if? What if they managed to make a device to send him back (something Diana assured him was still being worked on), only instead of sending him back they sent back Native Bruce? Surely the brutal monster would have no trouble fitting in with the people who’d ripped a helpless woman out of her wheelchair and torn her to pieces. Maybe Native Bruce would even learn to appreciate what he had, once he didn’t have it any more.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, he almost ran into Diana. The woman was pale, sweating, and gripping the junction between two parts of the hallway. “Are you all right?” he demanded, concerned.

She smacked his hand away. “Don’t,” she gasped, “touch—me.”

She still saw Native Bruce when she looked at him. He could understand that. “Do you want me to call Clark? Or Damian?” he asked.

“NO!” The woman’s shout echoed painfully down the hall. Her grip loosened and she slid slightly.

He knew these symptoms. He’d seen them before Diana was pregnant—and she was afraid of Bruce. “Come on,” Bruce said as he gently grabbed one of her arms and draped it over himself. “There are some crackers in the kitchen. You’ll feel better once you eat something.” She didn’t protest and he helped her to the kitchen where he got her a pack of crackers and then made her a cup of tea.

She didn’t speak again until she smelled the scent of the peppermint tea he’d made. She pinned him with a look. “You know,” she said grimly. Her hands twitched, as though she was thinking of reaching for her weapons.

“I guessed,” he said gently. He could see why she wouldn’t want him to know, all things considered. “Does Clark know?”

She took a sip of her tea and grimaced. She never did like tea, he recalled. “I haven’t told him.”

“Is it…” Bruce trailed off, not knowing if he wanted to finish the sentence.

“No.” Diana’s face fell, host to an incurable internal sadness. Bruce was more than familiar with that feeling; he’d been suffering from it himself. “No it was—someone else.” Her eyes closed. “He’s not here, anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” The words, as always, were inadequate. They hadn’t helped Gordon; they hadn’t helped him. They weren’t helping Diana. But they were all he knew to say. There weren’t classes on how to deal with someone's grief—either his or other people’s.

“It is what it is,” she said sadly.

“Does Clark know?” asked Bruce, hunting desperately for another topic. She was already looking better, and he knew that the tea was helping. Of course, having been there the first time, he had known it would.

Diana snorted. “Of course Clark doesn’t know. He has far too much to do.” She met his eyes with a wry smile. “He’s ruling a globe now, you know.”

Bruce did know. He had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand he believed that no one that powerful should ever have sole control over so many people because there was no way to challenge that power. There was no check, no balance to it.

On the other hand, he’d seen what happened when someone like Clark wasn’t in charge.

“He always has time for his friends,” Bruce argued. “And you won’t be able to hide it forever.”

“No.” Diana took a sip of tea. “This is nice,” she said, surprising him. “I’ve—missed talking like this.”

Bruce smiled wearily. “I’ve missed you too, Diana.”

***

Bruce was in the middle of an exercise session with Damian when Clark found him. Bruce noticed him immediately; Damian did not. Bruce had mixed feelings about that; on the one hand he wanted Damian to always be alert and aware of his surroundings so that what happened to his Damian could never happen to this one, and on the other hand—on the other hand he wanted Damian to be able to be a child. Children weren’t supposed to need perfect awareness of their surroundings all the time.

At the end of the workout the two of them bowed to each other and Bruce gently clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Good job,” he said approvingly. There was a brief moment of joy on the boy’s face before the mask of icy indifference slid back into place.

“Thank you,” Damian said curtly. He turned and only the slightest tensing of his body betrayed that he was surprised to see Clark there. He nodded and continued to the shower room.

Clark smiled. “I’m glad to see the two of you bonding,” he said calmly.

Bruce smiled back. After a few months he’d mostly lost that haunted feeling. Part of him still wondered if he was in a dream, a hallucination created by his mind to cope with his grief. The rest of him didn’t care. Damian and Diana were alive. And Clark was here.

Bruce noticed that Clark looked conflicted. It wasn’t an expression he wore very well. “What is it?” he asked.

Clark cleared his throat. “Diana has informed me that we will be needing—supplies,” he said.

Bruce smiled. So Diana had finally taken his advice. Well, she might have just pretended to, as she would be showing soon. “Sounds about right,” he said calmly.

“You already knew,” Clark accused.

Bruce shrugged as he grabbed a towel for his own sweat. “I’ve seen it before,” he gently reminded the Kryptonian. “I knew.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Clark asked, sounding lost.

Bruce could understand. Clark and Diana were like siblings, and it was hard to realize that the man whom your sibling had once hated knew such an intimate detail before he did. “She didn’t want to worry you,” Bruce explained as he rested the towel against the back of his neck. “She thought it would be a distraction, and you have a lot on your plate already.”

Clark nodded. He knew that Bruce knew he’d taken over the running of the world, but the two of them—in typical fashion—said nothing about it. They didn’t talk about how it made Bruce feel; they didn’t talk about Clark had felt the need to do so. It was probably unhealthy of them, but they were still finding their feet together. Perhaps they’d communicate later.

Clark sighed. “I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to,” he said. “But—would you?”

Bruce smiled. He knew exactly what Clark was asking. “Can I?” he asked. “I feel pretty certain that, ah, I don’t have the same qualifications I used to.” Which was a funny way of saying that the Bruce Wayne from this world was a wanted criminal and outlaw.

“It’ll be fine,” said Clark, relief stark on his features. “I don’t—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bruce commented dryly. He walked over to Clark until the two of them were right next to each other. He smiled. “We’ll figure it out,” he assured the Kryptonian.

Clark smiled back. “We will,” he promised fervently.

***

Bruce had been having a great time, despite being cornered by an old woman telling him all about her seven grandchildren and lecturing him on the importance of making sure his “wife” felt pretty while she was bloated like a whale and to remember that it was his fault she’d lost her trim figure. He’d forgotten that shopping could be fun; there was a reason he wore the playboy persona so well. After she wound down he said he’d take her advice (no point in telling her that he wasn’t the child’s father) and purchased several of the items in her shop.

In this world the League had a credit card. Who knew? It was a good idea though. Oh, there were some corn seedlings. Clark might like those; Bruce knew he missed his parents’ farm.

He was heading towards the stall with the seedlings when he was grabbed from behind. A quick jerk and whirl and he faced—himself. The two Bruces stared at each other.

Someone dropped something and the spell was broken. Native Bruce attacked and Bruce fended him off. The two of them, by mutual accord, took their fight off the crowded street and up to a nearby rooftop. “You don’t even know what he’s done,” sneered Native Bruce.

“I know,” said Bruce.

“Oh?” The two of them circled each other. “Did he tell you how he broke into Lex’s office? How he used his laser vision to burn the man to ash? Did he tell you that?” Native Bruce attacked.

It was hard for Bruce to block. They moved the same way, used the same moves. Knew the same counterattacks. “Did you ever ask why?” Bruce demanded when they backed off to circle each other again, each one wary of the other.

Native Bruce snorted. “Why is irrelevant,” he said grimly. “What’s important is that he needs to be stopped. They all do!”

“Even Damian?” demanded Bruce.

“Especially Damian!” Native Bruce attacked. “The little traitor sided with Kal-el instead of killing him like he was supposed to!”

Native Bruce had sent a child, his child, against a powerful alien. Told the boy to kill the alien. Called the boy a traitor for not doing it.

The two geared up for one last battle. One of them had nothing left to lose. One of them had everything to lose.

Only one could win.

[sirspud]

BREAKING NEWS

We interrupt your regular broadcast for more shitty wish-fulfillment fanfiction written by Australian dipshit, SirSpud. Links to this atrocity are found below, and an excerpt of this nightmare is under the banner.

Fanfiction.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13615322/11/Pokemon-Diamond-and-Pearl-An-Abridged-Novella AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725101/chapters/81455863

Floaroma Town was, by popular opinion, one of the most beautiful villages in Sinnoh. The place was home to a massive flower meadow that sent wonderful aromas through the town, making it a retiree’s dream and a pollen allergist’s nightmare. It was here that the Floaroma Spring Contest was starting to begin in earnest. Stalls were being set up, coordinators were practicing, and a small army of TV crews had invaded the normally quaint and quiet town, trampling the local scenery in the name of ‘cinematic shots’.

It was here that our heroes had just arrived, having made their way through the Ravaged Path and through the light forestry of Route 204 to arrive in this picturesque little village. Like any Pokémon trainer worth their salt, their first stop was to the Pokémon centre for some healing, cheap food, and a well-deserved break.

It was here that Ash and Dawn sat at a small table in the communal area. They were currently waiting on Brock to finish up with his business, whatever that was, and had each bought a rather bland pasta dish, covered with cheese and sporting a few vegetables that had been boiled to oblivion. Beside them, sitting on the ground, Pikachu and Piplup ate from their bowls of dry, tasteless kibble, trying to pretend that they were instead enjoying Brock’s cooking.

“So…” Ash started to say, trying to break the silence that had settled upon them like a blanket of awkwardness. “New contest, huh?”

“Yup.” Dawn nodded, scooping a spoonful of terrible pasta into her mouth. “Hopefully it’ll go better than last time.”

“It should do. You’ve been practicing every morning, right?”

“Urgh. I tried to.” Dawn groaned. “But I’ve been having really bad dreams lately, so I wake up and I’m not in the right headspace for it.”

“Really?” Ash said sympathetically. “How come?”

Dawn looked up from her meal with pointed, deliberate slowness to give Ash an accusatory glare of disdain.

“Oh. Right.” Ash looked away for a moment. “…Sorry.”

“…It’s fine.” Dawn sighed. “The fact that Pachirisu still isn’t listening to me isn’t helping either.”

“Ah, that stuff just comes with time.” Ash said dismissively. “When I started out, Pikachu didn’t listen to anything I said. He got a bit better after we almost drowned and got attacked by a flock of Spearrow, but it still took a long time before we trusted each other.”

“…Sweet son of Arceus, dude.” Dawn looked up at her friend in concerned disbelief. “How many times have you almost died?”

“I prefer to think it in terms of how many times I haven’t died.”

“That means the same thing!”

The sliding doors from the atrium slid open, interrupting their conversation. Brock walked slowly over to their table, clutching his lower back in pain. Croagunk followed by his side, his ever-present creepy grin upon his face.

Ash looked at Brock as he came to the table. “…Nurse Joy?”

“…Maybe.” Brock replied reluctantly, sitting next to Ash and wincing as he did so. “I think he might’ve actually poisoned me this time.”

“So, was that why you wanted to do your stuff alone?” Dawn asked, unimpressed. “So you could harass the local single women unjudged?”

“Not originally, no.” Brock sighed. “I wanted to give both of your parents a call to let them know about the Hunter J situation, but the reception here is awful. Couldn’t even get a connection.”

“…Oh. Cool.” Dawn replied, trying to hide her alarm. “Uh, weird question, but… why would you do that?”

“Yeah, why?” Ash added quickly, almost panickily.

Brock raised an eyebrow. “…Because that’s the responsible thing to do?”

“Yeah, but, like, I can do that.” Dawn said hurriedly, chuckling nervously. “You don’t have to call her, I can call her on, like, my Pokétch!”

“Mm… hm.” Brock folded his arms at her. “So, why don’t you call her now?”

It was almost issued like a challenge. Dawn opened her mouth, closed it, then she spluttered, “Well, why doesn’t Ash call his parents on his PokéDex, huh?”

“Can’t. I don’t have an internet license.” Ash explained.

Dawn stared at him for a moment, trying to make sense of what he said. Quickly giving up, she said, “Okay, well… maybe I don’t have reception here either! Did you think about that?”

“The Pokétch uses a different network than the phones here, doesn’t it?” Brock asked neutrally.

“Different doesn’t mean better!” Dawn replied defensively, holding up the hand that held the watch and pointing at the device. She heard the atrium doors open again, but she ignored them. “This thing can barely reach people a hundred feet away! There’s no way it can hold a conversation all the way to Twinleaf Town! It also can’t send texts, or set alarms, or… tell me what date it is…”

Dawn lowered her hand and looked down at the device, hesitantly admitting, “…It actually kinda sucks.”

“I see you’re still the ideal model for financial independence.” A boyish voice said from the side.

“Shut up, Kenny.” Dawn replied automatically, turning around in annoyance. “If I wanted your sass, I-”

Dawn blinked in surprise as she registered who had just spoke to her. It was a young boy, around about the same age as her, sporting a green t-shirt with white stripes worn atop a long-sleeved undershirt that was also green, but a little darker. His hair was an unkempt dark auburn mess, his eyes a blackish-brown, and his face sported a mischievous grin.

“Kenny!” Dawn cried with delight, immediately leaping up to embrace him.

The boy spread out his arms welcomingly. “Dee-Dee!”

Dawn skidded to a stop, shutting her eyes tight in a grimace.

“I hate you so much.” Dawn growled exasperatedly as Kenny burst into laughter. “Why won’t you let me forget that?”

Kenny chuckled. “Hey, you stop reacting to it, I’ll stop teasing you.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s how it works!” Dawn snapped. “That’s like a mugger going, ‘Hey, I’ll stop robbing you if you stop defending yourself’!”

Kenny smirked at her, and though she tried, Dawn couldn’t keep up the irritation for long. She broke back into a smile and embraced him.

“I missed you, dude.” Dawn sighed.

“Me too.” Kenny said as the two friends let go of each other. “I thought you were going to tell me when you started your journey!”

“…Not gonna lie, I actually completely forgot about that.” Dawn said sheepishly. “First few days were… pretty intense.”

“Wow.” Kenny folded his arms, an expression of mock hurt on his face. “I can’t believe you’d just betray me like that.”

Dawn smirked, folding her arms right back. “You really wanna talk to me about betrayal? Who was it, again, who only remembered his best friend’s birthday at the last minute?”

“Erm…”

Dawn looked back at the others, who were kind of just staring awkwardly.

“I don’t wanna be rude, but… we don’t know who this is.” Ash said.

“Ah.” Dawn stepped to the side. “Ash, Brock, this is Kenny Greenfield – my best friend stroke tormentor.”

“Yo!” Kenny greeted.

[cantcomeupwithacreativename]

The Experiment Chapter 6

"Will F/L/N Y/N please report to the office?"

I ignore the 'ooooohhhhh she in trouubllleee's' and head down.

"We've decided to transfer you to 1 A. One of our previous students decided the hero course is not for him, and someone from general studies is going in, however, Aizawa refuses to re-teach the new kid what he's already taught the others, so we need to transfer someone from 1 B in, and since you were already being considered, you're the perfect candidate." The little rat grins at me. Who the hell is Aizawa? I've never heard of him.

“Ok. Sounds good.” I figure there’s no point in fighting it, the alternative is expulsion. As I’m walking over to the door, the rat speaks again,

“Oh, you’ll be moving classes now, so go get your stuff. We figure the faster the transition, the smoother." What am I supposed to do about my friends?

"Can I say bye to everyone?"

"Of course." He says a grin on his little rat face.

Great, now I have to reintroduce myself, and avoid questions, and explain my quirk all over again. One the bright side, I'll be with that Momo girl… she was super pretty. Oh, and that jackass blonde kid, and that bitchy two toned.

On my way back to my old class, I plan out what I'm going to tell Monoma. Poor kid, they don't get him like I do.

I sigh and push through the heavy door.

"Hey, what was that about?" Kendo's face is knitted with concern once she sees my expression.

"I have to transfer classes. To 1 A."

The classroom is silent. Vlad king looks disappointed. He loves all his students and had grown quite attached to them, as he did each year.

"No, you can't leave us for them!" Monoma said, betrayal flashing in his eyes. "You can't leave me…" he whispers to himself. 'Not for those 1 A brats, who, like everyone else in his life, believed he couldn't be a good hero. They insulted us, called us worthless, and now they think they can take you away? His first friend he's had in a long time?'

"We can still hang out during lunch and after school and stuff Monoma, I'm not dying."

But he wasn't listening to me. He looked like he was having a flashback. 'Does she think they're better than us? Is that why she's leaving? Because I'm not good enough? But, I'm just as good as them, we got in on the same test… there's really no difference, just letters. I'll show those bastards how good we are. That will prove to her that we're the same.'

Tetsutetsu was a bit disappointed too. He enjoyed having such a tough girl in class. You fought those bullies! It wasn't a crush, per say, more of an admiration for your spirit.

2nd person

On the other hand, Pony was glad you were being transferred. Not in a rude way, no, actually quite the opposite. She remembers you fighting those jerks, and knows that if you are in class 1A, you can ride off the wave of fame from that villain attack. The more famous you are,,, the easier to become a pro.

But not that you would know this.

Back to Y/N

I wonder what these new kids will be like. They can't all be selfish jerks.

Outside of the 1A door, I hear a muffled voice say,

"A new student is being transferred in, in Mineta's place." Footsteps alert me that he, whoever he is, is approaching the door. "Come in." He says as it opens. Oh shit, it's that teacher who caught me fighting. I step through the door, which is conveniently wide, easier for my wings to get through.

"Hey, I'm F/L/N Y/N. Uh, I'm from 1B and my quirk is Raven."

"Good. Sit behind Midoriya, Midoriya raise your hand." He said, sounding sleep deprived. A green haired boy raised his hand, and I walked over there. In front of Midoriya, was the jerk. As I walked by, he scoffed and said,

"The fuck's wrong with your face." I ignored him. He didn't deserve my answer. Behind my seat was Momo. Oh good, I get someone nice. Next to me was a guy with a black bird head. He looked me in the eyes and said

"Ah, a fellow creature of darkness." He looked so dramatic as he said it, like he was a stabbed poet. He must have been talking about my wings and I didn't know what to say, so naturally, I said,

"Ok." He seemed satisfied with my answer, and he turned back to Mr Aizawa. Behind him, was the two toned jerkface who wouldn't let me sit with him. He looked at the scars on my face, his face blank, and then looked away. What a weirdo.

"Copy down these notes." Mr. Aizawa said before pulling out a yellow sleeping bag and slumping down. Wait, What?

"Yeah, he does that," says a guy with pointy bangs, "we've gotten used to it by now." I nod in acknowledgement, and look down at my paper. Fuck. Small problem. I can't read. I know my name, and how to write it, but other than that, I never learned. Kei read me the textbooks out loud, and the acceptance letter was verbal. Vlad King read the notes out loud as he said them. Oh my god. I'm in high school and I can't read. This is horrible, people will find out, I'll be kicked out of UA for being stupid. Momo tapped me on the shoulder.

"Are you ok? Is Midoriya's muttering bothering you?"

"What? Oh, no." I hadn't even noticed. As I listened closer, I realized he was saying the notes out loud as he wrote them. As I listened, I pretended to look up at the board and wrote my name over and over as I listened. Perfect.

The lunch bell rung, and the class filed out. The green haired boy, Midoriya, walked towards me, a smile on his freckled face.

"Hi! I'm Midoriya Izuku! How does your quirk work? Does it have to do with those splotches on your skin?"

"Nah, they're burns. My quirk is pretty self explanatory," I said, widening my wings for emphasis. "Oh, and I can do this," I hardened my wings and shot the blades out within seconds. His eyes went wide as they pinned his arm to a wall. A brown haired girl ran to his side.

"Deku are you ok??" She looks like she's worried enough to faint.

"You shouldn't use your quirk so recklessly!" A blue haired guy with glasses started scolding me.

"Chill out, he's fine." I said as I started to walk away. I heard a faint snort from the back, and when I turned my head I saw the blonde bastard staring me down.

"You got a problem?" I said, loudly for everyone to hear.

"Yeah, you better not be thinking you're better than me!"

"Hey man, chill out," a red haired guy grabbed his shoulder and he turned and glared, then shrugged him off a couple seconds later, but he didn't continue his speech to me. He stomped out of the room, backpack slung around one shoulder.

"Sorry about him," the red haired guy said, rubbing his neck,"he can be a little-"

"Bitchy?" I interrupted.

"Um, yeah…"

"Badass." I heard a whisper from the side of the class. When I turned my head, a yellow haired boy winked at me. The green haired boy, Deku, or whatever was gaping at me. He looks like a pushover.

On my way out, after a few other kids, I heard the yellow one talking to a pink girl. I didn't pay attention until I heard my name.

"I bet 5 dollars she'll sit at our table." The yellow one said.

"No way! She'll totally sit with Todoroki! You see those marks?" There must be an invisible person in this class, because there were floating clothes.

"I think she'll sit with Deku, he seems to like her." That pink girl said.

"I hope she sits with us, she's so manly! Though Bakugo doesn't like her…"

"Kirishima, Bakugo doesn't like anybody but himself…"

I ignored them and walked out.

I could feel a couple eyes on me as I walked into the lunchroom.

"Oh." I heard from a couple people in 1A as I sat down with Monoma, Kendo and Tetsutetsu.

"So, how's the famous class 1A. Do you have any dirt on them?"

"I don't know. They seem normal. The teacher sucks though."

"So they're not as good as everybody says?" Kendo looked disappointed in my answer.

"No. Nothing special. " I said.

"So what's the deal with my spot? Do they have a new person yet?"

"Nah, they said they're gonna wait till after the sports festival to see who can earn the spot." The silver haired boy spoke for the first time. "I'm excited to shove it to those 1A bastards."

"What's the sports festival?"

All three stared at me.

"It's a competition between classes of U.A. haven't you seen it on TV before?"

"Um, no," I said, shifting my wings uncomfortably, "I've never had the chance with all my training." Usually I'm a good liar. Strange.

We ate, and the bell rung again, signaling the end of lunch.

"Bye guys, see you later!"

After lunch, it was time for basic hero training.

"I AM HERE!" The large man yelled. It's Allmight. This would be so cool if I actually gave a fuck.

"Everybody suit up and meet me in field A!" He said as he pushed the button that sent the rack that holds the hero suits out of the wall. Everybody in this class has different quirks, so I get to see the new costumes! This is exciting!

After walking out of the locker room, I spot Deku, that girl, and a suit of armor. I walk over to them.

"Holy moly Y/N! You look amazing!" The girl says. I must've misjudged her, she seems nice.

"Thanks! You look great too!"

(Sexy)

"Though not entirely appropriate for a high school…" this came from the armor. Oh, it must be the mean one under there.

(Baggy)

"Though not flashy enough to stand out amongst the others.…" This came from the armor. Oh, it must be the mean one under there.

(Normal)

"Who's your favorite hero?" Deku asks, his eyes shining.

(Sexy)

"Midnight."

(Baggy)

"Hawks"

"Awesome! Did your costume take inspiration from hers/his? Mine is based on my favorite hero Allmight! He's so cool and I want to be just like him!"

"Yeah, it did."

"Ah, I see. Taking inspiration from your favorite hero is admirable. My costume is based off of my personal hero, Ingenium! I misjudged you! Tenya Iida!" He said while bowing.

"Yeah, I also just like wearing stuff like this." That jerk's not going to slutshame/ make anyone feel bad about their style anyone on my watch.

"Hey you! Scarface!" Both me and the boy with the split colored hair turned around.

"NO NOT YOU YOU ICY HOT BASTARD! THE NEW GIRL!"

(Sexy)

I walked over to him. I could see the yellow haired boy staring at my costume with a light blush on his face. The red haired one was quickly looking away to pretend he wasn't staring. I was honestly kind of surprised. It's probably just because there are only a few people with skimpy hero costumes. He's not actually interested. I don't have a curvy body. I'm only a(n) (A,B,C,D) I guess the fishnets and garters did their job. I don't have big hips or thighs. To be honest, I do have long legs. I stand at 5'7'' I'm eye level with Bakugo normally, but in these heels I stand about 5'9"

(Both)

I walk over to Bakugo, who's glaring at me the whole way. Once I reach him, I try to embarrass him as much as possible. If he's gonna call me scarface, I can make fun of him.

(I was thinking boots like these, but they can be whatever you want.)

https://m.ericdress.com/product-11509725.html?currency=USD&gclid=Cj0KCQjwhvf6BRCkARIsAGl1GGjf9TV6-_c2gPz3-hTjYFiEffFIIwLPzQuBk5YSN8KYq1rZnRd6WkMaAqD-EALw_wcB

(Baggy)

"Same pants!" I say, glancing down at his legs.

[Optional:Baggy]

My hero costume was sweatpants, a jacket, and a sports bra. Mind you, it was a full coverage bra, that made sure I was covered and safe. I would have worn something loose, but I couldn't for 3 reasons. 1) I needed to be able to fit my wings through the back and move them easily. 2) I couldn't wear a loose shirt while flying or it would tear off. 3) A loose shirt would be easy to grab during a fight.

I also wore sleeves to cover my arms, and weighted knuckle gloves. (gloves with hard stuff in the knuckles to make a punch hurt more)

(Sexy)

As I got to Bakugo, he said

"You better not be looking down on me bitch!" Which I thought was ironic, because I'm taller than him.

"It'd be hard not to. I'm taller than you." I lean in real close to intimidate him, but he freezes, and then as if shaking off a thought, frowns and yells,

"That's because you're in stripper heels you whore!"

"They aren't stripper heels, they're platform boots. Moron." Redhead stares wide eyed, as if he's expecting a bomb to detonate any second. I suppose in a way, it is.

"WELL HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO KNOW THAT!!! I BET YOU CANT EVEN FIGHT ME!! WEAKLING!! I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!!"

"Do you want some Zoloft or something? I can get you some." I really can, Kei knows a couple dealers, having made a few runs for extra cash. She mostly cuts contact with the shady stuff though.

"NO I DON'T WANT YOUR DRUGS YOU SHADY WHORE! FIGHT ME!!!"

"Hey bro, calm down! Let's make a plan for winning and proving we're the best at UA!" The redhead said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation.

"Stay out of this shitty hair!"

"TIME FOR CLASS TO START!" A booming voice yells. "THIS WILL BE A PARTNER ACTIVITY, SO PAIR UP! REMEMBER TO CHOOSE WISELY, TO BE THE BEST HEROES, ONE MUST WORK WELL WITH OTHERS!" Ha, looks like the Bakugo kid did not like that last part.

"WHY YOU LOOKIN' AT ME?!" He yells at Allmight.

People began to pair up, Uraraka and Deku, Bakugo and Kirishima, etc. The girls were crowding the split one, and the bird boy came over to me.

"Would you like to be my fellow partner of darkness in this activity?"

"Sure," I said.

"There are 30 of these sandbags hidden around the facility as hostages. There are also 20 of Ectoplasm's copies scattered around. They won't always be near the hostages. Once down, a copy will stay down. It is not required to fight any of the clones. Attacking anybody but the clones is prohibited. The team to rescue the most sandbags wins. You have 8 minutes to make a plan with your partner. Starting… now."

“What's your name?” I said. It's probably something emo or edgy af.

“Tokoyami Fumikage.”

“Ok, what does your quirk do?”

“This is dark shadow. He fights.” he said as a black mass with yellow eyes emerges from his back.

"So, you could fight clones while I look for hostages… but then we wouldn't be able to help each other… and my quirk's not very good at fighting."

"If we both go everywhere together we'll rescue less people, separating would be more efficient...but then what if the other finds someone? Maybe someone could

"I think that we should work together. We should set up a base and we can bring the bags there." I said. He nodded.

"Everybody line up! It's time to begin!" We did

"Ready! GO! PLUS ULTRA!" He shouted and we scrambled to the door. Someone jumped in through a window, her tongue hanging out.

Once in, I found myself in a maze. There were 4 hallways to choose from. I ran down the closest one, Tokoyami in close pursuit. I turned a corner to find a wall and a sandbag on the ground. This is easy. With no villains in sight, I pick it up and the door slams shut. A person shimmers into vision, one of the clones, because he's in Ectoplasm’s costume. He pulls out a knife and makes a jab at me. Tokoyami bangs on the door, but it's metal. I can easily move out of the way, because I live on the streets, and there are homeless drunks who will stab you, so Kei taught me how to dodge, grab their wrist, break it, and slam their head into the nearest surface. Unluckily for the clone, that was an iron door. It melts and leaves a button on the ground. I push it, and it opens the door.

We run a bit more, turning and twisting through the cemented labyrinth, until we find a clone. It has a few hostages, a big one and a small one. It must symbolize a kid. This clone just pulls a knife and slits the bigger bag open, the sand pouring onto the floor. I freeze. It grabs the small bag and holds a knife to it. He must not have a quirk because he hasn't used anything yet.