#brought to you by the raven who just made the last stretch of work possible

[bones-n-bookles]

Very often I will feel like Absolute Shit for whatever reason, be it depression or physical illness or anxiety or stress or whatever, and then see a raptor or corvid and things will just. Be okay again. Be bearable. It doesn't matter if it's a scrub jay or a raven or a red tailed hawk or an eagle. Just a corvid or raptor.

[albinodeer]

Great Things: The 100 Fanfic

Here is my latest commissioned piece! This one was from @stormkpr, who asked for a piece about Raven's bond with her mentor, Sinclair. I hope you enjoy it!

            Raven could hear whistling coming from the end of the metal hallway; without even investigating, she knew it was Sinclair. He was much more of a morning person than she was, not that it bothered her at all.

            She made her way down the hall, following the whistling to the last room on the left. It was one of the rooms that had an outer door attached to it, and Sinclair appeared to be working on the mechanism for the access port.

            “Morning, Reyes,” he greeted brightly, flashing her his signature smile.

            “Morning, Sinclair,” Raven responded. She watched his hands for a moment as he worked, studying each movement so that, one day, she could recreate them on her own. Once he put his work aside and went about cleaning up his tools, Raven’s attention turned to the door.

            That door was the only thing between her and wide-open space. She had always dreamed of space walking, of being a Zero-G mechanic, of feeling the sturdiness of the Ark give way to the absolute freedom of floating with nothing to anchor her. She would be away from her mother, away from the stench of alcohol and the disapproving looks of those around her, if even just for a minute.

            Sinclair followed her gaze and broke her out of her trance. “You’ll get there one day,” he assured her.

            Raven turned to him, staring at him like he had just read her mind. He chuckled.

            “The Ark would be lucky to have you as a Zero-G mechanic,” he told her. “You’d be better than half the men we have out there right now.”

            Raven scoffed at that and turned to help him pick up the rest of his tools. “You’re just saying that.” She tossed the tools into his carrying case, then wiped her oil-stained hands on her pants.

            “I’m not. You’re the brightest apprentice I’ve had in years.” He stood and stretched, letting his back straighten after hours of bending to work. Raven started to argue, but Sinclair cut her off. “Come with me. I’ve got something I want your help with.”

            Raven sighed and followed him back down the hallway. Their footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty hall. It was still early, so the ship was relatively quiet. Sinclair resumed whistling, and Raven went about tying her hair back so she was ready to work. After a minute, they arrived at one of the control rooms. Sinclair opened the door and brought Raven inside, waving to one of the stationed operators as he did. Sinclair sat down in a chair across from the main controls and motioned for Raven to sit beside him.

            Raven looked over the various dials, buttons, and screens laid out before her. She had been in this room before, but only ever as an observer, not a worker. Still, she recognized most of the controls and knew how to manipulate them to get them to function the way she wanted.

            “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Sinclair asked as he watched her examine the controls.

            “I’m wondering why we’re here, sir,” she told him honestly.

            Sinclair smiled. “Well, I’ve got a problem I need help solving. Look here…” Sinclair pulled up a 3-D image of the ship, then zoomed in on a section that showed up in red, rather than the glowing green of the rest of the model. “The fans in the lower quadrant quit at three this morning for seemingly no reason. Engine’s good, blades were replaced one month ago, no wire disconnect that I can see.”

            Raven squinted at the image, then reached for one of the dials near Sinclair. “May I?”

            Sinclair nodded and motioned to the control panel. “Please.”

            Raven moved her chair closer and zoomed in further, looking at the mechanisms connected to the fan. She knew that they were all shown in real time, which was possible thanks to sensors and cameras throughout the ship. She moved the image slightly to the left and zoomed the image in even further. Something wasn’t right…

            Raven squinted at the image, trying to focus her eyes and her mind. She shifted the image to the right, to the fan adjacent to the malfunctioning one, and studied the mechanisms behind it. One, two, three…

            “There,” she said, pointing at the images behind the fan. The image she pointed out was nearly microscopic, but she had noticed the change. “Look here. On this side, there’s three bolts. On the other…” She moved the image, “There’s four. There’s only supposed to be three. How did a fourth get there?”

            Sinclair smiled and nodded. “How, indeed?”

            Raven studied the image for a second more before standing. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

            “I’ll come with you,” Sinclair replied. He stood and followed her this time, admiring the way her brain worked.  

            Raven knew her way around the ship as if it was a small cabin. The walk to the fan was a series of twists and turns, but she maneuvered it without hesitation. After about ten minutes, she had reached the fan in question.

            “Give me a boost, will ya?” she asked Sinclair, who happily knelt down and offered his cupped hands for her to place her foot into.

            He boosted Raven up, and she grabbed onto an air duct to steady herself as she studied the bolts. Now there was something else wrong. There was something tucked behind the bolt.

            She pulled a screwdriver out of her toolbelt and got to work removing the strange bolt. She held out her hand below it as she worked to make sure that she would catch the mystery object as it came loose.

            As the bolt loosened, Raven caught the object. It was a small piece of paper, folded a few times. She finished removing the bolt and tucked it away in her pocket. A second later, the fan roared back to life as the conductor was freed from its vice grip.

            Raven climbed back down and looked at the paper in her hands. “Someone put that up there and left this,” she said before unfolding the paper.

            It was a note. Her eyes scanned the paper, and a small smile crept over her lips. She looked up at Sinclair.

            “You left this, sir?” she asked.

            Sinclair smiled and laughed. “Of course.”

            She studied the note again before reading it out loud. “Reyes: You continue to prove yourself. You’re going to do great things.”

            “It’s true,” Sinclair told her. “I think you’ll be ready for your exam in no time. You found the solution to this problem and had things fixed in…” he checked his watch, “15 minutes, flat.”

            Raven laughed. “You know, you can quiz me without breaking things.”

            “Not broken,” Sinclair corrected, “just… paused.”

            Raven rolled her eyes, but she was enjoying every second. Being with Sinclair made her feel smart and capable and valuable. It was all the things that she wasn’t used to feeling around her mother.

            “Now, let’s get some real work done,” Raven said, adjusting her toolbelt to show she meant business. “I didn’t get out of bed just to solve puzzles.”

            “That’s exactly why you got out of bed,” Sinclair pointed out. “This entire ship is a puzzle, and you’re one of the few people who knows where the pieces go.”

***

            Raven stared at the paper in her hand, too afraid to unfold it. If she didn’t unfold it, the contents would remain a mystery. A year had passed since the last time she was unfolding a paper to read what was inside. This time, she at least knew what to expect: test scores.

            She had felt pretty confident about her Zero-G exam, but now that she was sitting there with the results in her hand, she was frozen with fear. This paper held her future. It was either a pass, and she would begin the next huge chapter of her life, the one that she had always dreamed of, or it was a fail… She didn’t want to think about that.

            Raven took a deep breath and started to, very slowly, unfold the paper.

            “Sneaking up on them won’t change the results.”

            Raven’s head spun around, and she saw Sinclair standing behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief, then held up the paper to show him. “What if I failed?” she asked, her voice strained with doubt.

            Sinclair placed a hand on her shoulder. “With your brain? That’s impossible.”

            Raven nodded at his answer and slowly unfolded the paper. Her eyes jumped to the scores at the bottom. No fucking way.

            “A perfect score,” she breathed.

            Sinclair grinned, and his voice was filled with pride. “You know, I think that’s the first perfect score I’ve ever seen.”

            Raven’s face broke into a wide smile. “A perfect score,” she repeated, feeling like it might disappear if she didn’t make it real enough.

            She continued reading, and her smile fell away.

            Sinclair saw it, too. He squeezed her shoulder. “Raven…”

            Physical Exam: Fail. Reason: Heart murmur detected.

            Raven shrugged him off. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, folding the paper back up and stuffing it in her pocket. “I… I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

***

            A few days had passed since her test scores came. In that time, her boyfriend had been arrested for giving her the taste of freedom she’d always craved. Her life was falling apart, and all she had left was work. She put every ounce of energy she had into her work. If she didn’t, she would fall apart, too.

            Sinclair approached her as she worked on one of the ship’s supply lines. He watched her for a second before addressing her.

            “Reyes.”

            Raven looked up at him. “Yes, sir?”

            “How’s that supply line coming?” he asked. He knew that she could easily fix it on her own if given an hour.

            “It’s a piece of crap…” Sinclair gave her a look, so she quickly added, “sir, but I’ll get it working.”

            Sinclair smiled at her response. “No, you won’t,” he said. “I’m pulling you off duty. You got your Zero-G certification. Congratulations.”

            Raven frowned, confused. No. There was no way. He was with her when she saw the test scores. He turned to walk away, but Raven stopped him.

            “But, I failed the physical,” she reminded him.

            “Yeah, I saw your test scores,” he said. Perfect scores, besides the physical. “I overruled the rejection. You’re in.”

            Raven hesitated. Was he serious?

            “Now, get moving,” Sinclair ordered her before leaving.

            Her dream had come true, just a day too late. She felt the necklace resting on her chest. It was the necklace Finn had given her. Finn, who was now behind bars for her freedom.

            She chased after Sinclair and wrapped him in a hug. The man looked surprised, but after a second, he returned the embrace. Raven let herself melt into his arms, letting him carry the weight of the last few days for just a moment. Sinclair didn’t seem to mind.

            Raven let go and looked up at him. “Sorry, sir,” she said, quickly wiping a stray tear from her lash line.

            “No apology necessary,” he assured her.

            Raven nodded and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

            “No thanks needed either,” Sinclair told her. “The only thing I need is for the girl with the first perfect score to get to work. Show those others out there how it’s done.”

            Raven smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

            She turned to go, but Sinclair’s voice stopped her. “Oh, and Reyes?”

            Raven turned back to him. “Yes, sir?”

            He smiled at her, in the type of way only a father really could. Or, as close to a father as Raven ever got.

            “You’re gonna do great things, kid.”

If you enjoyed this piece and would like a commission from me, please go to the pinned post on my page for info! I am saving to get tested for autism.

Thank you for reading!

[prfctethereal]

Can you write James Potter smut please. Thank you

frosted hearts. | james potter

pairing: single dad!james potter x preschool teacher!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: NSFW. smut, sub!james, dom!reader, talk of masturbation, talk of punishment, mommy kink, praise kink, tit sucking, thigh riding, slap and degrading kink only for a short amount of time at the end

summary: you are harry’s preschool teacher and one day james is late to picking his son up from school

**

It was hard to be around screaming toddlers, all day, every day. By the end of your long shifts, your head was blistered by the engraved sound of whining, moaning, and that smacking sound the children make with their lips.

But for the most part, you loved being around kids. Their tenderness brought so much joy to you and you were happy to have become an early childhood teacher. Your workplace was loving, with your fellow teachers continuously supporting you through everything. Even the kids were decently nice.

The age old stigma that kids were devil spawn seemed like the most foreign concept to as you coddled a near sleeping three year old, his warm body curled up to your side. Reading a children’s story to the kids, you felt so much adoration for the children around you, enough to make your cheeks rouge. All of them looked at you with doe eyes as you finished the last page.

“And the princess and the prince fell in love and lived happily ever after.” You closed the book with a soft clap. “The end.”

Looking around, the children beamed, flashing their pearly, toothy smiles towards you. In that moment, you felt at peace, almost content, knowing that you were bringing enjoyment to the kids surrounding you. Gently, you stroked the arm of the nearest child, Harry, as he slowly unraveled from your side.

“Miss?” Harry asked placidly, his tiny fingers down playing with the hem of your skirt. He looked up at you, fluttering his long eyelashes.

“Yes, Harry?” You responded, once you knew that he wasn’t going to speak without permission.

“Do you have a prince?”

At those words, you frowned, your smile disappearing from your face. Admittedly, you have been quite lonely for the past year. Focusing on work has been devastating for your social life. After your messy breakup with your previous partner, you felt like it was unnecessary to rush into another relationship. Quickly enough, those days turned into months, and eventually a year. Your dry spell was becoming quite unbearable.

As the winter months closed in, you wished for more comfort at night. The smoking fireplace could only fill your lonely apartment with so much warmth before you got desperate - needy - for something more. Some nights were spent with your fingers curled up into your cunt, tight from the months of neglect, desperately trying to churn some pleasure out of you, but, there was only so much your own fingers could do. They couldn’t go nearly as deep enough, or stretch you nearly as much as you so deeply desired. You were starting to become flustered just thinking about it.

“No.” Your reply was short, until you realised the kids around you would want a longer explanation. Sighing, you folded your hands in your lap, pursing your lips forward. “I’m not a princess of any sort. Even then, sometimes people don't have someone with them.”

“Just like my Daddy.” Harry babbled unprompted, dawdling away from you to join the midst of his pre-school friends. “He is all alone too.”

You knew Harry’s father, and just the thought of him made you curl your toes in delight. He was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Deep hazel eyes that light up when he laughs. Plump pink lips that frame his mischievous smile. Strong, muscular arms, complimenting his toned hands, that you can imagine wrapped around your neck...

Before you could even process the dubious insult thrown your way, you felt a sprinkling of fingers press lightly against your shoulders, snapping you out of your daze. Furrowing your eyebrows, you traveled your eyeline up, locking eyes with another teacher who worked there, Lily.

She looked absolutely wrecked. You knew she had been on the phone for most of the afternoon, for reasons you didn’t know, but you expected that you were going to be told now, as she beckoned you away from the kids.

“One moment.” You held up your finger, showing the kids an example of counting. As you walked away, you saw the kids out of the corner of your eye. They too had one finger in the air, repeating the same word - “One!” - over and over to each other. It was very cute.

“Roads have been closing because of the weather.” Lily started, her nimble fingers gesturing out of the frosted window panes. She was right; the roads were starting to look pretty bad. A thin layer of snow seemed to be shredding downwards, coating the town like powdered sugar. The sun stayed behind the clouds, not even daring to peek through, keeping the town in a cold flurry, and keeping the children inside. This was going to be a long shift.

“So, we’ll have to stay here longer tonight?” You asked, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. You brought the pads of your index fingers up to the window pane, feeling the chill of the temperature seem into your skin. WIthout realising it, you traced a heart shape into the frost, your own heart sighing as you exhaled.

“Hopefully not.” Lily replied. “I’ve contacted all the parents and have told them to come pick up their kids as soon as possible. This storm seems to not be slowing down any time soon. So, potentially, we might be able to go home early, if the children all get picked up before the snow gets too thick. And, don’t bother coming in tomorrow. The snow’s gonna settle, meaning there will be road closure all across town.”

“Great.” A sarcastic laugh poured from your mouths as you turned back to the kids, who were still being occupied by the thought of having one finger in the air. “We should start getting them ready then.”

You and Lily worked diligently side by side, bundling the kids up in layers of soft clothing, keeping them secure from the storm. The kids joined in too, helping to clean the classroom, picking up litter off of the floor, and clearing off tables. As you sprayed down the surfaces of the tables and kitchen counters, you hummed a soft tune, getting into the rhythm of cleaning.

While you were occupied with cleaning, parents started arriving, greeting their kids with loving smiles and gentle touches. You melted as the kids ran excitedly into their parents arms, wrapping themselves around their mums and dads, wishing to not let go. In those sweet moments, you felt a fleeting pang of loneliness. You longed for your own child, and with that, a loyal husband. You breathed out a sigh, something that was becoming quite regular for you by now.

As more and more parents arrived, you saw the sun trickle behind the horizon. Soon, the night sky appeared, painting the sky in hues of indigo and cerulean. As much as you loved the night, you didn’t love the idea of being stuck here all night, and neither did Lily, who was looking even more restless than you.

Her ginger hair fell across her face, partially blocking her vision as she lethargically signed out the second to last kid. Deep, violet bags were forming under her eyes, her skin borderline white from her exhaustion. It was getting hard to look at.

“Why don’t you just go home?” Your offer made Lily perk her head up. “You look way too tired to even continue standing on two feet.”

“I couldn't do that to you.” Lily yawned, clasping her perfectly manicured hand over her mouth. “And besides, Harry hasn’t been picked up yet. I still have to do my job.”

You looked at her with pity in your eyes. You hadn’t seen her this exhausted in years, and you knew her anxiety was bubbling up as more and more snow fell onto the ground. “Please just go Lily. It’s only Harry; I can monitor him by myself. You need to get home before the snow gets heavier.” Before she could butt in, you continued. “Besides, Harry much prefers me over you.”

Lily laughed, closing you tightly into a friendly hug. “Thank you so much. I’ll get you back another day. Are you sure you’re all good closing up on your own?”

“Go home.” You waved her away dismissively. Lily bounced around and in only five minutes, she had collected herself, and had dashed out the door, leaving only you and Harry in the pre-school.

He was looking quite tired himself, which was understandable. By now, it was nearly eight o’clock at night, a time you knew was well past his bedtime. Harry had curled himself up on one of the naptime beds himself, his raven hair falling over his eyes. Staying by his side, you caressed his back, until he fell into a soft slumber.

You felt lonely again. Harry was asleep and there was nothing left for you to do until Harry’s father arrived to pick him up. You knew a few things about Harry’s father, from the fleeting conversations you had had over the time Harry had been at this school. You knew his name was James, and he looked like heaven. Everytime you glanced his way, you felt yourself grow wet. It probably was a problem, but your secret crush didn’t hurt anyone, so you kept it secret.

Long after it had become dark, you finally saw canary coloured headlights glint in the distance. It was a relatively nice car, something you’d expect a well paid ministry worker, like James, to drive. You watched attentively as the car parked slowly and surely. Then, the car door opened, and you got your first look of James for the day.

He definitely looked a little tired but there was something endearing about it. His fluffy brown hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it greatly. His round glasses sat low on his nose bridge, with his natural eyes scanning the area. There, he locked eyes with you through the window, the same window you had drawn your pathetic heart on. Right then, James was positioned right in the middle of the heart, condensation like a halo.

Before you knew it, James had opened up the door into the school, realising a sigh of relief when he was hit by the warmth of the classroom. Dramatically, he closed the door behind him, leaning up against the frame, apologies falling from his lips like rain from the sky.

“I’m so sorry I was late. Traffic was crazy. Too many road closures.” James seemed frantic, but the solidarity of the preschool was definitely calming his mood down.

“There’s no need to apologise, Mr Potter. Harry is delightful to look after.”

“Please,” James held out his hand, “call me James.” You intertwined your fingers with hsi, shaking his hand ever so lightly, the same hand you had fantasised about. It was everything you dreamed of.

“I should drive Harry home now.” James broke the silence, his voice cutting through the tension, making you want to salivate. You didn’t like the idea of James driving in his state, especially since he looked so tired. If anything, he would need some caffeine in him before the journey.

You reached your hand up, stroking his right cheek with your left hand, concern filling your eyes. “Oh, please James, you look so tired. Let me make you a cup of tea before you journey back home. You look as though you need it.”

James chuckled. “Alright then, just one though. Besides, Harry seems to be having a lovely nap. Wouldn't want to disturbed him now, would we?”

You guided James into the back kitchen through a secret door. Here was your break room where you could have some peace and quiet away from the kids. It was one of your favourite places in the entire school, because even though you loved the kids, sometimes you just needed a place to help you unwind, and unwind you did. Countless times you had fallen asleep back here and had dreamed of James.

“We have Earl Grey. Is that okay?” You looked through your cupboards, eyes locking onto a small red box, tea bags flooding out of it. Personally, you weren’t a big fan of it, that's why there were still so many, but James didn’t seem to mind it.

“Please, sounds lovely, dear.”

You worked in silence, turning the kettle on to boil. Carefully, you dunked a tea bag into a mug, swirling it around in your fingers as you waited for the water to boil. The emptiness of volume was killing; you could’ve heard a pin drop. James was the one to speak up first.

“Harry really likes you. He talks about you often.”

“Oh really?” You chuckled in disbelief, facing away from James, fiddling with some lint of your sweater.

“Yes. Sometimes, he even calls you Mum. I’m happy that he has a mother figure like you to look after him.” You chuckled when hearing James’ words, which confused him. “Why are you laughing?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You said, reaching for the kettle. “He’s just not the only one to have called me Mommy before.”

James furrowed his brows, even more confused. “You have kids of your own?”

“Not quite.” You swung your head around, throwing James a cheeky grin. That’s when he understood what you meant. He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his pants seeming just a bit tighter than before. It was definitely hotter in the room.

“What normally happens when people call you that?” James asked, testing the waters. As you stood to move around, the chair scraped against the wooden floors, alerting you of his prowling presence.

When he was a mere inch away from you, you smirked once again. “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?” You weren’t sure where this rush of confidence was coming from but you both seemed to not want to slow down.

Consciously, James raised his hand to your cheek, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. His soft hands lingered a little too long, before his eyes flickered downwards towards your lips. You knew what he wanted, but you never took him for the shy type. Something about this made you aroused. Needing relief desperately, you lunged forwards, connecting your lips to his.

It was everything you thought it would be. Hungry, passionate, skilled. Your lips melded perfectly together with his, as his lips sucked gently on your top lip. Yearning for something more, you moved your hands down to his ass, giving James an experimental squeeze. Just like how you wanted, he gasped, giving you the perfect entrance to insert your tongue into his ready mouth. He moaned, his lips vibrating against you.

“Show your Mommy how much you need her.” You pulled away, whispering those words at the shell of his ear. You could hear James whimper in front of you, positioning himself so he was straddling one of your thighs, as you were pushed up against the counter tops.

James’ fingers worked at the hem of your sweater. Eager to remove as many clothes as possible from you, he tugged at the edge, slow whimpers escaping his pretty mouth, as you tilted your head down to his neck, aching to leave soft love bites on his skin.

He was getting needier and more submissive by the minute, but to you, he was acting like a brat. “That’s not how we ask for something we want, is it baby? Use your words.”

“Please Mommy, may I take your sweater off?”

With a curt nod, you obliged, watching James’ eyes light up in fascination. Quickly, he pulled your sweater over your head, glad to see that your thin shir had stuck to the material of your sweater, leaving you in just a bra on top. His eyes were transfixed by the way your nipples were hard on your pert breasts, sticking out from your bra.

“Can I take your bra off please, Mommy?” James’ hands had already made their way around your torso, preparing for the inevitable.

“Yes love, good boy for asking.” You felt James grow harder against your thigh as you praised him, a thought that made you smirk in delight and what could be in store.

Like you were made of glass, James slipped the bra off of your shoulders, dragging it slowly off of your arms. You knew he wasn’t teasing on purpose, as it seemed that he was distracted by the sight of your tits, but you needed relief anyway, bucking your thigh up against his crotch as encouragement. “They’re all yours.”

Delighted, James leaned in, his whole mouth engulfing your nipple. With vigour, he bagan sucking, the pleasure of it going straight down into your core. You moaned loudly, something you learned that egged James on. Greedily, he started rubbing his hands down your side, eager to feel all of your skin. You didn’t mind though, as you were lost in your own moment.

“Good- good boy.” You stuttered out as James’ mouth left the centre of the nipple, beginning to suck small bruises into the side of your boob. Normally, you would punish him - well, anyone - for doing that without permission, but you didn’t care at that moment.

Content with his handiwork, James moved onto your next nipple, ready to give you the same amount of pleasure as last time. As he worked your nipple to a bright scarlet like the last one, you noticed a curious movement with his hips. Looking down, you saw James, rutting his hips into you, humping your thigh as if he was a bitch in heat. You moaned at the sight.

“You like that, huh? You like,” -  you jolted your thigh upwards - “Mommy’s thigh?”

“Mmm, so good.” James mumbled against your tit. You knew he was close to coming, but you weren’t quite done with him yet. Pulling him away from your body, you looked into his eyes to see a hurt expression, something you didn’t like seeing. Luckily, it wasn’t going to last long.

“If you can make Mommy cum from your tongue, then I’ll let you cum on my thigh, alright?” With an excited nod of his head, James immediately sunk to his knees, diving his head underneath your skirt. His fingers worked quickly, stretching the fabric of your panties to the side so he had the best access possible. When you heard a muffled “Oops” against your thigh, you could tell that your panties had snapped from James’ force, but you didn’t mind. He made up for it by being so damn skilled.

He dove in nearly straight away, his tongue licking straight up the lips of your cunt, lapping at it as if it was his first ever meal. The end of his tongue teased the entrance to your velvet walls, pressing in ever so slightly and pulling away, creating tension and frustration for you. But it felt so good.

“Feels so good, darling. Doing so good, my good boy. My good, good boy.” You knew he was spurred on by praise, so you gave him what he needed. Threading your fingers in his hair, you held him down slightly, taking the tiniest amount of control back.

When he began sucking at your clit, that's when you really felt the tide going out. It was ebbing at your senses, the only indication being your shaking body and the mewling whimpers coming from your mouth. This only encouraged James further to topple you over the edge.

Slowly, James brought his fingers up to your cunt, teasing your entrance with his finger. Then, he slipped it inside of you, feeling the way you clenched around his finger. You were so tight that James dreamed of how you would feel around his cock, these thoughts going straight to his straining dick in his pants. He needed relief, so he worked faster, inserting another finger and pumping faster.

You were so close by now. The combined stimulation of James’ lips suctioning at your clit and his fingers working in and out of you was too much. With one last hard suck, you felt your orgaasm wash over you like a tsunami. You could hardly hold yourself up, and that was evident by the way you toppled to your side. The only reason you didn’t hit the floor was because of James’ lightning fast reflexes, keeping you upright.

“Did I do good, Mommy?” James asked, his shiny eyes looking up at you with adoration, his lips glistening with your cum. You smiled sweetly down at him, stroking his cheek with your hand, until you pulled it back and gave him a harsh slap across his face.

“It was so good baby, but I thought I said only using your tongue?” James had the look of realisation on his face, but you kept going. “Naughty boys who don’t follow rules have to be punished, and I don't think you want to get put in the Naughty Corner, do you?”

James whimpered, but it sounded like he was enjoying the degradation. A smile spread across your face.

“Oh so you do? Good boy.”

[twistedmusings]

Vil Schoenheit: After RSA’S Performance

The first time he had been left speechless was because of you.

You who always knew what to say, you who always had an answer to the problem at hand.

Where were you?

A/N: What is formatting. I don’t even know.

But listen though. When did Vil get hot? I mean he has always been hot but is it now because he is sad boy? A rude boy turned sad boy? Is that why I am attracted to him now and was compelled to write this?

I don’t know but I’m in love so I’m going to run with it.

This is how Vil would react if MC looked like they were enjoying RSA’s performance.

Part 2, here!

What Vil felt couldn’t really be put into words.

His grades would say that he was one of the highest ranking students in the Language Arts for Night Raven College. Not just in regular human speech but also in fairy-dialect, animal dialect and any sort of dialect that Professor Trein would demand. Vil also excelled in prose, poetry and abstract writing.

Being left speechless was not something that was supposed to happen, not twice in a row.

The tightening of his throat would speak otherwise, as well as the sudden feeling of vertigo.

Vil could barely hear Kalim through the jovial sound of Neige’s voice, the one thing that had kept him awake for these past few weeks--no these past few years. When was the last time that he had felt so helpless? Was it when he had first met him? Neige, with his bright smile and lovable personality that made people overlook his mistakes, his very obvious mistakes. The way he wouldn’t go when it was his cue, or how Neige would forget almost every other line only to finally have the script memorized by the time it was opening night.

A children’s song.

“What even is this song! The chorus just won’t leave my head!”

He wasn’t even ready during dress rehearsal, Neige would wait until fucking opening night.

Was it dramatic to say that the whole event had haunted him? As well as the domino effect of undeserved fame that Neige had gotten afterwards?

No, to Vil, being overshadowed by this person despite all the effort that he put into each and everyone of his performances was something akin to being shot by a gun.

Over and over and over.

He had been beaten by a children’s song.

Every single commercial, every music video, every promotion and every product placement that Neige did was like a dagger carving him up from the inside out.

So when the VDC presented itself, he jumped at the chance to not just shape himself into the perfect being to defeat Neige, but to shape others to show that not only could he surpass himself but he could help others break through their own ‘ugly’ exteriors to discover their own personal beauty. And by all means he had done it, he had taken five rough and ugly rocks and turned them into polished jewels.

Polished jewels that framed the diamond he had worked so hard to turn himself into.

His grip on the audience seat loosens when something flashes through his mind.

The practices had been rather arduous, not only having to make sure that he was flawless but trying to deal with Epel’s stupid gender based ideas, Ace and Deuce’s lack of grace and even Kalim’s really really terrible singing voice. Yet something had made it even a little bit worth it.

Someone, he needed to correct himself, someone had made it a bit worth it.

The sixth potato that he had hoped to start shaping after this whole thing was over.

What could he say about you? At first glance you were truly nothing special. An uneventful, magicless person from an equally uneventful place that hadn’t even been accepted into this school but was instead made a student because of the monster next to you. You weren’t even a student, more like a glorified problem solver for the Headmaster. Ideally, Vil should have also hated your guts since you were essentially getting the same education that he had been getting when he was a first year but without any effort but there was something different about you that he had not expected.

I think you’re probably the fairest out of everyone in the school.

A small glimmer of something beautiful.

But in the end your opinion is the one that will matter to you.

You were honest. That is something that Rook had mentioned about you once he did his recon of the new manager for the VDC team. How the Ramshackle prefect really didn’t have anything to offer but that the quality that stood out the most to the hunter was your refreshing honesty.

He had modeled for crowds of adoring fans and yet he found himself pulling out his pocket mirror and fixing non-existent imperfections before talking to you. Yet even when he tried to make himself look presentable to you, you always seemed to catch him when all of his walls were down.

“You should have seen the information that I got from Riddle, Leona, and Azul. They have really gotten a reputation behind them, the Ramshackle prefect. I wonder what will happen if we keep them close~”

Vil wouldn’t admit it to anyone but there had been a brief moment that his heart skipped a beat when the news about how the VDC team would be rooming in Ramshackle. He figured it had skipped out of beat due to the horrific news that he would have to room in a dorm that had not been used for who knows how long but when he had come inside and been greeted by your smile, it was almost surreal how he had come to terms with this feeling of nervousness.

The night before the VDC had found Vil in the Ramshackle lounge, a cup of tea in his hand as he watched a video of that day’s performance. There were still minor imperfections here and there but those would be easily covered up by his own singing and movements. Epel had also improved exponentially which highly increased the probability of a successful performance and with Jami’s hypnotizing movements and Rook’s aura there was no doubt that he had this competition under his heel.

But nerves like these didn’t leave overnight.

A creak on the stairs brought him back to the present, taking a sip of his tea as he continued to look at the video.

“If you’re here to ask me about why I am awake at this hour, Rook, I would like to remind you that you insisted we review the performance in the morning which already did nothing to calm my nerves--”

"Vil-senpai?"

His head snapped up to look at you , the light of the moon masking him in shadows while illuminating you as you made your way down the staircase. He clicked his tongue and turned off his phone.

"Was I interrupting something?"

Vil shook his head, “Last minute detail check. Everything has to be perfect by tomorrow.”

You nod and walk towards him, standing next to the couch before pointing to it. Vil looked at you before looking at the seat next to him. What were you--oh. He nodded and you sat down on the other side of the love seat, both of you farther apart that he would have liked.

“Does the manager have anything they want to say to me?”

“It just gets me thinking. You have been doing this performance perfectly in my eyes. Over and over again that it makes me wonder just what you think is lacking.”

You bring your feet up to the seat, hugging your knees together as you look down at the floor, “Maybe your definition of perfect and my definition of perfect are so different.”

The Pomefiore dorm leader rolls his eyes, “Did your Heartslabyul friends put you up to this?”

“Ace and Deuce? Great Sevens no. If they did I would have rightfully ignored them and gone to bed. I’m just your manager, I’m not here to negotiate.”

“Just a manager.” Vil frowns and looks at you, “You understand that you are currently housing the Vil Schoenheit as well as six other people who happen to be under my temporary tutelage. If you and your dorm weren’t around I would have had to keep those two Heartslabyul potatoes in the Pomefiore dorm and I don’t think I could stand letting them sleep in one of our beds. Our dorm has standards, luckily yours is the most neutral place I can stand being around those two without losing sleep.”

He blinks at the snort you let out, staring as you wave your hands and apologize while trying to prevent another one from surfacing.

“That is the only straightforward compliment my dorm has received. Neutral.” you laugh again before wiping a fake tear from your eyes, “Am I allowed to take it as a compliment?”

Vil is glad for the darkness, it hid the sudden flush in his cheeks.

“Take it as you will.”

You nod and stand up, stretching and letting out a satisfied sigh when your back made a small cracking noise that had Vil clutching at his cup. Anybody else and he would have walked out of whatever conversation he was having, so why did he find that tolerable with you?

“Then let me pay it back.” you hold out your hand and for a brief moment Vil wants to take it. Clearly that was an invitation for something and it alarmed him that he didn’t mind the mystery behind it. Yet your finger pointed at the cup, Vil looking down and seeing it was empty.

Oh.

He hands it to you, doing his best to make it so that your fingers would brush in the most accidental way possible.

“In my own opinion, as well as the opinion of others, I think you are the fairest out of everyone in the school.”

The air in Vil’s lungs gets caught in his throat.

“No joke. The way you carry yourself, the effort you put into everything you are a part of. Even the potato comments are almost...endearing? Potato plants produce rather pretty flowers, right? Maybe you are just trying to get the flowers inside of us to bloom as well?”

He is staring.

He is staring and not saying anything. You had left him without speech.

“But in the end your opinion will be the one that matters most to you. I just hope that it will always be positive.” you scratch the back of your head and yawn, “I’m going to grab a glass of water and head back to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Your eyes are still meeting his as a small flush adorned your cheeks, probably embarrassed by what you had just said. Or he would like to think you would be embarrassed, if this was any regular love story he would stand up and grab your wrist and keep you from running away from him before cupping your face and leaning in--

“Good night, Vil-senpai.”

"Goodnight."

You who always knew what to say, you who always had an answer to the problem at hand.

Where were you?

His eyes start looking around for your figure, hands itching and brain running slower than it ever had before. Maybe you would make it better? No, you would make it better. You would go over to him and smile before saying that the competition hadn’t even started and just because that song seemed to be moving everyone under a stupid nostalgia spell, Vil’s hardwork would shine through. Neige hadn’t taken everything from him, not just yet.

Vil feels the weight on his shoulders lessen when he looks at you only for it to double when he sees your face.

You were smiling, humming along to the silly melody as your head bobbed up and down.

Even in practice your gaze remained fixed on them, yet with Neige you seemed to feel that infectious, annoying melody and enjoying it?

“What’s wrong? You look pale.”

Had he lost you as well?

“Vil...Vil?”

The first time he had been left speechless was because of you.

“...Nothing. Don’t worry.” he turns his back to Rook, “It’s not worth seeing their performance. I will be in the waiting room.”

Vil walks away, so many thoughts clouding his head as he replays the words you had said to him.

Who the hell cared about his opinion when yours was just as important?

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

Mischief and Teaching

(or "teaching mischief"?)

Summary: You have a natural talent for Seidr, the magic of the nine-realms. When your powers grow out of every teacher's control, your parents seek help at the palace. Will you find a teacher?

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k (God, I was so worried I would end up with more than the word count allowed, but I thankfully managed. Phew)

Warnings: 18+ even though there's nothing for this. All my work and my blog is 18+, Minors dni. Apart from that, there's a lotta fluff and humor in this one.

Author's note: This is my first submission for @syntheticavenger's 5K Follower Celebration "How it started - How it's going" Challenge! It's a really cool drabble challenge. Find the post about it here and check it out.

The prompt I received was: "Loki/'Magician's' Assistant'"

Now, I admit that had a lot of smutty potential but for once in my life my brain decided to go down the funny, fluffy road instead of the angsty, smutty one. There's gotta be a first time for everything, huh?

...

How it started:

“No, mother. I don't have the need for an assistant and neither do I want one. I work best alone,” Loki said, voice tight as he tried to keep his tone polite but firm.

But Frigga kept nagging. She wouldn't be the Queen of Asgard if she gave up simply because someone had told her no. Looping her arm through Loki's she pulled him close to her side as they walked through the corridors of the palace.

“She wouldn't be only your assistant. You would also be her teacher,” she replied and steered him down a wide hall, smiling politely at the Lords and Ladies passing them.

“I don't have the desire to teach anyone. I'm certain she can find someone to teach her elsewhere,” he dismissed.

“I'm not telling you to commit to anything just yet. I merely want you to meet her. She and her parents travelled all the way to the palace to request our help in this matter,” his mother said in an attempt to appeal to him.

Loki sighed, barely keeping his eyes from rolling back in his skull in annoyance.

This girl his mother kept talking about was the daughter of a lowly Lady and her wife. They came from the furthest branches of Yggdrasil all the way to the golden palace just for an audience with the queen.

Frigga was widely known for her magical powers, so she was the first person the family turned to. People rarely requested audiences with the Queen. Usually it was Odin who attended to any matters brought to him by the Asgardian citizens.

Loki felt a spark of satisfaction at the thought of Odin's irritation when someone asked specifically to see Frigga and not him. He was so entitled to his position of Allfather and King of the nine worlds, he couldn't wrap his head around the possiblity that he wasn't all-knowing and not fit for every task.

It was that brief moment of petty joy over his father's irritation that made Loki reconsider his options. Sure enough he was known for his magical powers, even if not as renowned as Frigga. But either way, it gave him something he could hold over Odin's head, something he was able to do neither the old man nor his golden haired brother could.

This opportunity might open up new doors for him in the future and help him build his reputation to, in the end, rise above Odin and his childish ploys or Thor and his brute strenght.

“Fine, I will agree to meeting her, nothing else,” Loki gave in. His lips twitched into a little smile when Frigga smiled up at him widely and squeezed his arm with hers.

“That is all I wanted to hear. I am certain you will like her,” his mother said cheerily and pulled him along into the direction of the potion room where she had told the girl to wait with Thor to keep her company.

“Tell me what I have to know about her, mother. I want to know who I am talking to before I face her,” Loki said just as they rounded another corner and drew closer to the room the girl and his brother were waiting in.

“The girl's mothers are Ladies of lower nobility. Their daughter always seemed to have an affinity for Seidr, but the last years her powers grew and became harder to control. They tried to find teachers to help her, but no one could handle the extent of her powers. They were at their wit's end and the last resort they could think of was the palace. They hoped to find help here, so they came and requested an audience to explain their situation,” Frigga informed him.

“So she's powerful? How powerful exactly?” Loki asked, diggign deeper to get all the information out of his mother he could.

“Powerful, yes. You'll see for yourself. But she's inexperienced. Not one of her teachers could keep her contained for long. She needs someone who is able to hold a candle to her and I daresay you are fit for the job,” his mother answered before finally stopping in front of the room the girl was waiting inside.

-

You heard voices outside the door and started to panic.

The room was a mess, potion ingredients strewn across the floor, broken vials and furniture scattered in the whole room. Your magic was nervously swirling around and inside you, waiting to be used, to help, but unable to because you didn't know how.

“My Lady!” Thor boomed in front of her, his voice nasally and laced with panic. He was sitting on a small stool, his huge frame curled on top of the tiny piece of furniture. “Fix this, quickly! Before they see and-”

His words were cut off by the creak of the double doors.

Silence filled the room and you turned around slowly, face growing hot as you saw the other Prince and the Queen taking in the mess. Their gazes simultaneously moved from their surroundings to you and you cleared you throat as you curtsied awkwardly.

“Your highness, my prince,” you greeted them and then continued to introduce yourself. Maybe you could salvage the situation with your more or less decent manners. But before you could set off to a lenghty apology, Queen Frigga tilted her head to the side and tried to get a look at her blonde son hiding behind you as much as his broad frame allowed it.

“Thor? What in Asgards name are you doing hiding behind our guest? Step up and explain what caused this chaos,” she demanded, her voice not allowing any protest.

You stiffened when you heard Thor get up from the stool and step next to you. You could see him in your periphery and had do bite your cheek to keep from breaking into laughter. Keeping your gaze carefully trained on the pair standing in front of you, you waited for someone to break the stretching silence.

What you saw as you watched the pair surprised you.

Frigga's lips curled up into a smile and she quickly reached up her hand to hide the curve of her mouth behind her palm. The Prince was staring at his blonde brother, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. Then his lips, too, curled up into a smirk, but unlike Frigga he didn't bother to hide it.

“I, uhm... I was just curious and wanted to see what she could do, so we...well,” Thor stuttered trailing off when Loki started chuckling and Frigga cleared her throat in an effort to conceal her laughter. She looked at you and nodded, giving you permission to talk.

“Well, your highness,” you started, laying out your words in a way that would shift most of the blame to Thor. “Prince Thor was curious about my magic, as he said himself and asked me to show him what I was able to do. I declined politely, knowing I am not fully the master of my Seidr but he kept nagging me and gave in. It would be rude to deny a Prince, I thought. So I tried my best, I really did, but... I didn't go that well.”

“Obviously,” Loki stated, gesturing vaguely at his brother whose head at this point had turned crimson. It clashed horribly with the bright purple trunk that grew where his nose was supposed to be and dangled down all the way to his navel. The gigantic elephant ears sprouting from his head not all too unsimilar to the wings of his helmet were of the same vibrant colour.

The raven-haired Prince eyed you closely, his eyes narrowing a fraction. You did your very best to keep the amusement off your features, because really, Thor was just asking for it. He kept nagging you, getting on your nerves until you gave in and gave him a little show of your powers. It's not your fault you couldn't fully control them.

Despite trying very hard to look apologetic, you were sure Loki saw through right your facade going by the almost imperceptible upturn of his lips. He turned to his mother and nodded.

“I'll do it,” he said firmly and unhooked his arm from hers to approach you. He bowed down a little and reached out to take your hand. Bringing it to his lips, he brushed a soft kiss to it and smiled charmingly.

“It is very nice to meet you, My Lady. I have heard of your search for a worthy teacher. I am all too happy to offer you my services as your teacher and master,” he said pompously and you suppressed the urgle to giggle bashfully.

“It would be my pleasure to be your student,” you replied with a smile.

Loki nodded, more to himself than you and said, “You will make for a fine student and an even better assistant. I am sure of it.”

How it is going:

“Quick now! We have to be ready when he appears,” Loki called to you from the other side of the corridor.

You ducked into an alcove and got into position, sticking your head around the corner to give Loki a signal that you were ready. He did the same and then mirrored your movement, silently molding back into the alcove and cloaking his figure with an invisibillity spell he had taught you early on.

The two of you waited, hearts beating faster as excitement took you over, mixed with gleeful anticipation. Your Seidr twisted and twirled under your skin, almost making you vibrate with the contained power. And this time, you knew how to use it to your advantage, how to make it obey your commands and aid you in your often mischievous schemes.

'He's coming' Loki's voice sounded in your head and mere moments later you, too, heard the loud stomp of Thor's steps followed by his entourage of warrior friends.

You smiled gleefully.

'Let's turn him into a real elephant this time'

Loki's chuckle echoed in your thoughts.

'Shall we make him green?'

And again, congrats on 5K! That is such a huge achievement and you definitely deserve it, seeing how hard you work for it through all that content and amazing stories <3

'I'll leave that to you. I am open for anything. A pretty pattern would hurt either' you replied and then shifted into a more alert stance when Thor came closer. Your Seidr spiked with your excitement and when Thor reached the mark you and Loki had agreed on, you got to work.

...

There you go, my first entry! I hope you like it @syntheticavenger, it was a delight to write, hehe. 

[aegor-bamfsteel]

How long does it take to travel to King’s Landing from Dragonstone?

I wanted to focus a meta on a seemingly minor detail that, if you look into the likely circumstances surrounding it, reveals an important piece of characterization of Da3ron II that I don’t think has been discussed. AWOIAF says, regarding Da3ron’s reaction to his father’s death: “[he] departed Dragonstone within the fortnight after learning of his father's demise and was swiftly crowned by the High Septon in the Red Keep.”

If Aegon IV had died, and then Da3ron had arrived from Dragonstone and been crowned within 2 weeks (equal to a fortnight) of this death, that would’ve been understandable. However, the “and” signifies that Da3ron was crowned after the fortnight; it took within a fortnight of being told of Aegon’s death (not Aegon’s death proper, just when he heard the news) for Da3ron to pack his things and travel from Dragonstone to King’s Landing. The implication is that the journey from Dragonstone to KL takes nearly two weeks by sea. I was so puzzled at the idea that the Targaryen’s home castle was so far away from their capital (that they chose to build in that location partially because it was that close to Dragonstone) I checked the Errata of The World of Ice and Fire to see if it was a misprint in the way Myriah Martell’s name was; it was not. Da3ron took nearly two weeks after hearing of his father’s death to arrive at King’s Landing, and was “swiftly crowned” only after. Which leads me to ask, how many miles by sea does it take to travel from Dragonstone to King’s Landing?

According to a map of Westeros and assuming that it is to scale, someone worked out the distance as 420 miles/675km by sea; it is 100 miles/160km from Dragonstone to Sharp Point on the mainland, and then 320 miles/515km of traveling west along the coast to King’s Landing. It is not mentioned what type of ship Da3ron took (galley, longship, carrick, caravel, etc; all of which travel at different speeds based on how they’re built, with longships being the fastest and galleys the slowest), how experienced its crew was (although since Dragonstone is known for its navy, you’d think they would be experienced), or if the winds were favorable, so I’m going to estimate the slow, average, and fast speed of arrival from Dragonstone to KL based on the sources:

If Westeros is anything like our world and the equator is located south of Dorne, then the prevailing winds would blow from east to west (easterlies) south of the Neck and from west to east (westerlies) north of the Neck. Dragonstone and King’s Landing are located south of the Neck, so the prevailing winds would be trade winds/easterlies; in other words, Da3ron would’ve had the wind on his side leaving Dragonstone, which would’ve increased his speed by as much as 1 knot/1.15mi. Travelling at less than 4mph/3.5knots per hour generally meant a sailing ship was travelling with unfavorable winds, so we can assume Da3ron never reached below that speed.

Ideal Conditions:

Under ideal conditions (favorable winds, a skilled crew) a sailing ship could average around 6knots/6.9mph over a trip (pre-modern vessels could “sprint” up to 12 knots, but this wasn’t sustainable). This translates to 168 miles per day, assuming sailing in the day and night (which Da3ron would’ve had to do at least on the first part of his journey to Sharp Point, as he’s sailing the open ocean). 420mi/168mi/d= 2.5 days, or 60 hours at maximum speed

Assuming Da3ron took a caravel, the maximum speed of which is 9mph or 150 miles per day, it would’ve taken 420mi/150mi/d= 2.8 days, or 68 hours at maximum speed

I doubt Da3ron took a galley, considering it is a slow ship most often used for war, but non-ironborn nobility in Westeros do seem to have more of them to their name (Cersei, Stannis, Alyn Velaryon use them as flagships) than other ships, so I’ll put these numbers in to show that even at the slowest built ship Da3ron should’ve made better time. They are on average about 3/4 as fast as caravels, so at maximum might reach 6.75mph, 112mi/d, so 3.7 days or about 90 hours at maximum speed

Average conditions:

The average sailing ship could go around 5knots/5.75mph; this translates into 73 hours or 3 days 1 hour on average

Average speed for a caravel is 4.5mph or 90-100mi/day. The lower range indicates this trip would take 112 hours, or 4 days 16 hours; the upper range is 101 hours, or 4 days 7 hours on average

Average speed for a galley is about 3knots/3.45mph; this translates to about 122 hours, or about 5 days on average

Slow conditions (slowest possible with still-prevailing winds):

As explained before, going less than 3.5knots/4mph via sailing ship meant generally unfavorable winds. Assuming the absolute slowest, the ship could expect to make the trip in 105 hours or 4 days 9 hours

Using the ratio that a galley is about 3/4 the speed of a caravel, its slow speed might be 3mph, which translates into 140 hours or 5 days 20 hours

In conclusion, assuming that Da3ron did not stop at any harbors along the way and traveled at a consistent pace, he should have arrived in King’s Landing within one week, not two, of learning of Aegon’s death. Even at the slowest pace, taking the slowest method of water transport, the trip does not equal 6 full days of travel. 

It’s possible that, like Corlys Velaryon at the 101 Great Council, he brought the full Dragonstone fleet to King’s Landing to support his claim to the throne if he feared it was in danger (which makes sense in that he took so long to arrive, but was “swiftly crowned” after), but that would’ve lengthened the trip to 6 days at most (since a navy can only travel as fast as its slowest ship, the galley), and certainly not to nearly two weeks, since time is clearly of the essence in thwarting a potential coup. The idea that it took so long to prepare such a navy after hearing of Aegon’s death seems like a stretch considering the old king’s slow physical decline (see below)

A more benign argument is that after he reached Sharp Point, he did stop during the night, but assuming a night is 8 hours, that means even if he stopped every night along the journey (a ridiculously inefficient plan that practically defeats traveling by water, but to stretch out the time let’s pretend he might’ve done it) would’ve made the trip 76 hours or 3 days 4 hours at the fastest, and 172 hours or 7 days 4 hours at the slowest. Again, even at the slowest pace, with the slowest method of transportation, and now with long stops, it still would’ve taken barely more than half the time Yandel noted Da3ron actually spent to depart Dragonstone and arrive in King’s Landing. And how many days did he really need to pack his things and leave? I doubt nearly a week was really necessary...

Of course, that Da3ron might’ve taken a slower ship and stopped every night from reaching Sharp Point on ignores why he’s journeying to King’s Landing in the first place: his father just died and he is going to be crowned king, unmistakably the most important event of his life. As the crown prince, he has access to the fastest ships and most experienced crew. This is no time to stop to rest and leave the realm without a king (especially if you believe that others are plotting to take the throne, as Da3ron’s actions after arriving regarding Daemon Blackfyre and his father’s Small Council indicate). There is no technical reason why a journey that should’ve taken 3-4 days instead took nearly 2 weeks. The only possible reason for such a massive delay is a character-based one: that Da3ron did not wish to arrive in the capital so soon. Waiting that long almost undoubtedly meant he was not there for the funeral (given Aegon’s condition at death, it makes me think he was buried shortly after; in addition, the news of the death would’ve had to have reached Da3ron before he could depart, which would’ve taken 1-1.5 days by raven), which would’ve been the best opportunity to show filial piety, or at least pay respects to the old king from the perspective of a successor. Da3ron wore his father’s crown allegedly to prove his legitimacy, but the gesture seems rather empty after taking so long to come to the capital that he missed the funeral, and the coronation itself was the only event described as “swift.” It makes it seem as if he did not care for his father, purposely avoiding the capital until all mourning was done and then claiming his crown. This might have been the case given they were estranged the last years of Aegon’s life, but no matter his personal feelings, it would’ve been politically wiser if he were to come to King’s Landing as fast as he could, especially given the doubts of his legitimacy and his paranoia over claimants to the throne. The very tense succession of Viserys I to Aegon II officially took place on a single day; understandably such a short passage of time wasn’t possible in Da3ron’s case, but potential problems in a succession makes Targaryens act faster, not slower.

What makes matters worse is that Aegon’s death was obviously not sudden in the manner of Viserys II’s. TWOIAF’s description of his demise includes, “he was grossly fat, barely able to walk, and some wondered how his last mistress—Serenei of Lys, the mother of Shiera Seastar—could ever have withstood his embraces.” Serenei was Aegon’s mistress for at least a year, and undoubtedly a man who was barely able to walk does not have long to live. Toward the immediate end “his limbs [were] rotting and crawling with fleshworms”; there was even debate over this condition: “the maesters claimed they had never seen its like, whilst septons declared it a judgment of the gods” in addition to palliative care “Aegon was given milk of the poppy to dull his pain, but elsewise little could be done for him.” It seems like the final stage of Aegon’s illness could’ve taken weeks or even months, if there was time to discuss its cause and for worms to start eating his rotting limbs, or for final treatment and a damning decree to be issued. The health of the king is obviously politically important, especially to his heir, so I think it’s unlikely Da3ron wouldn’t have known about this final illness. Certainly by the time Aegon was unable to rise from his sickbed, Da3ron should’ve been able to tell the end was near; he very well could’ve reached King’s Landing before Aegon’s death, let alone before his funeral. That could have altered the course of Westerosi history if he arrived in time to contest the will that decreed all of Aegon’s illegitimate children be legitimized. 

It’s important to note that it’s never explained why Da3ron was unable to undo Aegon’s deathbed decree. The Greens were able to successfully contest Viserys I’s will that Rhaenyra succeed him and instead crown Aegon II, once they got the majority of the Small Council on their side. In real life, Henry of Blois was able to release his brother Stephen and the rest of the barons from the vows they swore to uphold Empress Matilda’s ascension to the English throne, on the grounds that her father king Henry was wrong to make them swear the oath because it would threaten the stability of the kingdom (in addition to bribing the royal steward into alleging that the old king had changed his mind about the succession and nominated Stephen instead, which at least worked for William the Conqueror regarding Edward the Confessor’s will). It would’ve been even easier for Da3ron to contest the will because Aegon was in horrific pain due to ill health and given milk of the poppy, a drug that is known to “fill one’s head with clouds”; Da3ron could’ve said that Aegon was not in his right mind when he made the will and that any deathbed decrees should be discarded. If only he had come early enough to King’s Landing to plead his case before Aegon’s death, or failing that, to try to force a reversal through the High Septon or the royal steward shortly after, things might’ve gone better for him later in his reign.

To conclude what is a much longer meta than I expected, Yandel claimed that Da3ron arrived in King’s Landing from Dragonstone within 2 weeks of hearing of his father’s death. Through estimating the speed of certain ships and the distance between the two castles, we can determine it should have taken at most 6 days and in all probability more like 3-4 days if he conducted himself with any sense of urgency. But instead, he chose to arrive so far after Aegon’s death that he probably missed his funeral, which, coupled with the haste with which he was crowned, shows a lack of respect for a deceased father that goes against the teachings of the Faith of the Seven, the moral authority of Westeros (and probably fed rumors of his illegitimacy). Even worse, the nature of Aegon’s illness was so slow that Da3ron could’ve made it to King’s Landing in time to change or contest his will if he had bothered, thus getting rid of his potential rival’s legitimization. I can only infer that Da3ron’s actions were not motivated by political necessity (and in fact could’ve hurt him politically and socially), but by hatred for his estranged father. I don’t blame Da3ron for loathing a man who abused his mother and tried to start an unprovoked war with his wife’s family. However, I don’t think the characterization of him putting political necessities above personal feelings can hold water, at least where his own are concerned (the feelings of others under his guardianship, such as those of Aerys I, and perhaps those of Princess Daenerys and Daemon Blackfyre, might be different matters). Nor do I believe that he should get a pass for making politically unwise decisions due to personal grudges when Aegor Rivers, who also had long-term vulnerabilities (disgrace at 2 weeks of age, the execution of half of his family at 6 years, invited into a court that hated his family...and that’s before the Blackfyres start getting cruelly murdered) is reduced to a one-dimensional villain for behaving similarly.

[whereflowersbloom]

Morning after

The smell of freshly baked croissants and coffee woke her up. Raven hardly ever felt so rested, even after spending an hour meditating before going to sleep, opening her eyes and getting accustomed to the morning light of the sun that illuminated her room through the windows. She turned on her back and nestled in this new, previously unknown feeling. She was strangely calm as if everything was in the right place, and every possible problem remained in the past.

Maybe that’s what genuine serenity feels like, she thought to herself.

But how did she end up in this situation? They became friends. Best friends, even. They talked about everything including their most intimate thoughts. She told herself it was enough or deceived herself into believing so. There was no line for them to cross but a secret and deep part of her soul definitely understood and sought the need to feel wanted and loved and fulfilled. Not like she hadn’t thought of Damian that way before. There was such a terrible tension between them sometimes when they were both sitting on her the sofa watching old classic films or reading books they both enjoyed. She craved the heat of Damian’s embrace. She remembered how it felt to have him curled around her, how gently his thumb stroked her cheek, how his muscles flexed against her, and she wishes he would hold her again.

Damian was like a compass for Raven if she felt like she might lose her way, and that kind of thing never happened to her. Not often at least.

As usual Damian went jogging as it had become his habit thanks to Jon, who craved the sunlight as soon as he opened his eyes, persistently asking him to be his partner. A surprising string elbow in the ribs by Jon gave him the second push to voice his feelings for Raven. Later, he visited a local bakery that made exquisite chocolate croissants, as he memorized Raven’s favorites. Then he returned home with a sudden thought it was the high time to turn his quiet feelings for Raven into something serious. He wanted to fool himself at first, but as it turned out, he was too fucking smart to believe a single word of the downright falsehood he made up in his mind in order to excuse himself from the imminent truth. He was in love with her.

She was about to get out of bed to stretch her muscles when Damian walked into the room carrying a tray with breakfast: hot coffee, steaming Earl Grey, croissants and juicy autumnal fruit. She wanted to approach him, wrap her arms around him and kiss him on the neck, the sensitive spot she discovered last night, but they were not yet at that stage of the relationship. As the matter of fact, she did not know exactly who they were to each other now. Maybe nothing had changed. After all, it had been just a few kisses last night, letting go, a carpet diem kind of moment. Maybe Damian didn’t want things to change between them.

"Good morning.” Damian muttered, sending her one of his radiant, sincere smiles that made her legs weak. "Did you sleep well?"

“Yes. Better than most days. I didn’t know if you would come back...” She kept her own voice soft, matching his tone, afraid to burst the strange bubble they found themselves in. Controlling her anxiety was easier said than done.

“I simply needed time to clear my mind.” His expression was solemn. “We must discuss last night’s event.” He mumbled under his breath, voice deadly calm, a convincing facade, fighting to distract the both of them from his own wild whirlwind of emotions as he left the tray at the bedside table. No woman in his life had ever truly enchanted him in the way she did. He would not give her up.

Her lower lip trembled slightly. She repeated her mantra over ten times until she calmed her nerves. Damian was her closest friend, and she cared about not ruining the special bond between them. They said it was easier to move on as long as you were merely lovers, but what when you are so much more. She felt like a teenager who was falling in love for the first time. Not that she was that much older at the age of 19. She had experience in meaningless romances, short-lived, Wally, Garfield, but she knew nothing about true love. Their bond was beyond comprehensible lines of poetry. More than it being undefinable, it was the freeness to be defined, the way as open interpretations take you.

“We don’t have to to this now. In fact, nothing has to change.” She spoke tentatively, unsure whether she’s more concerned how this would shape their friendship or embarrassed she let herself cross a line. Slowly passing around the room folding her arms across her chest.

The distress was heavy in her chest, stirred with a fog of uncertainty.

At this, Damian’s eyes sparkled with determination and objection regarding her statement. Before she registered what he was doing, he grabbed her hand. “I do not want to leave things exactly as they used to be. Not before last night.” He held her gaze and rubbed his thumb over the backside of her hand, reveling in the softness of her skin.

There’s a fluttering in her stomach, and she’s taken aback at the intensity of it. Butterflied filled with hope and wish. There was hope of light after all darks, hope of happiness after grief, hope of a new colorful sunrise, a chapter to be rewritten.

“It was just a kiss..” In a trice, breaking off the contact. She lied and immediately regretted it. Damian stood next to her with a disbelieving expression on his face. There was a hint of indignation but it vanished quickly.

“You and I both know it meant more than a kiss. I do not need the gift of empathy to see it.” Damian stated sharply, his features hardened at his resolution. He was tired of constantly feeling this weight on his shoulders. What was the point of deceiving themselves any longer? If he didn’t know better, he would say she was avoiding him like a plague.

Letting out a breath she had been holding in since Damian entered her bedroom, Raven felt a weight being lifted off her chest. “Damian...I” She started, but never managed to finish interrupted by an unexpected question.

"Do you have any plans for today?" He left the question hanging in the air.

With brows furrowed in confusion she found herself unable to command her mouth to utter anything. Her heart thudded out of her chest. The normally unflappable last daughter of Azarath knocked for a loop by the close proximity of her stunning teammate.

Raven parted her lips and closed them again.

“It seems we are free to do as we please today. Clear schedule. No training or missions. He shrugged casually, willing his breath to remain steady, years of boiling emotions teetering over the edge of his elegant, suave composure

Raven blinked. Amethysts widening.

“I thought we could go somewhere. You and I” Damian licked his lips, swallowing the nerves in his chest as her eyes widen a fraction at his proposal. "There's a new Parisian café in the city I think you might like.”

Her lips curved up into a sweet smile, growing wider and more radiant as she thought of sitting in Parisian cafe with Damian, enjoying a minute of bliss to be in the other’s company.

“Are you asking me on a date, Damian Wayne?” She blurted with a momentary astonished look, even as she realized the implication of his words. Was this truly happening? She asked herself mentally.

“I’m courting you properly, Raven. So yes, I’m asking you out.” His shoulders ease from their tensed position, subconsciously hunched in nerves to what she’d respond.

It was surreal, talking about what a few minutes ago had been unbearable chains, restrained by her own fears and inner demons. Ethereal strands of thread that could be snapped by a mere jerk of fingers. He wanted more. He wanted her.

“I don’t know, Damian.” She bit her lip still indecisive, gaze away from his face. Once again mind invaded by intrusive negative thoughts. What if it didn’t work? What if she lost control? The numerous what if’s haunted her like never ending nightmares.

Taking a step closer, something in his emerald sparked with an idea and firmness of not quitting. “Any chance I can persuade you to change your mind then?” He crooned in her ear, nipping at it just slightly, taking her breath away. She wondered how long she could resist his gravitational pull for so long.

Raven hesitated for a good few seconds before finally resigning herself to the fact that whatever she did. She couldn’t fight this anymore. She loved him. “I can think of a few ways.” She was surprised at her own boldness, snaking slender arms around his torso. He pressed his built body against hers closer, placing tender, teasing kisses along her neck. Whilst she was glad that he was enjoying himself, she was going to completely lose it if she remained flush against him for much longer. Her entire core heated with want for him. He smirked at the effect he had on her with his natural charm. This confident, cocky air. This was so him and content and not bothering to mask it. No filters.

“Is that a yes?” He whispered and there was no missing the boyish grin spread over his tanned cheeks. Hooking a finger under her chin and brought her face level with his own.

“I suppose you earned a date, Mr. Wayne.” She laughed feverishly. Gently, stroking his palm with her thumb. Enjoying the calloused yet silky skin of an accomplished swordsman and fighter.

An audible sigh left Damian’s mouth as his muscles relaxed with her nestled in his arms. She could sense his relief. Yes, perhaps a change could be good, opening herself to feel again. A new chapter of light and joy.

Notes: I know I have disappeared and haven’t updated in forever but I’m still sick and weak. Also working on the fanzine project. I should be done in a week though. But meanwhile have this short damirae. Not my best but I hope you enjoy it 💖💖💜💜

@deepbreadlover @tweepunkgrl @alerialblu @chromium7sky @kallura-juniblade @cayeeast

I miss you all and youre all welcome to message me. I feel a bit disconnected from the world.

Also I’d like to use to wish @shewhowillnotbenamed1 a happy birthday!! Thank you for blessing us with your beautiful wiring and your friendship 😊😊🥰💜💖

[flyingkiki]

A Very Merry Christmas (1/4)

I've been working on this since December last year, in hopes of giving you a steamy Christmas. But life, anxiety, and the shitstorm of 2020 came in the way. But either way, I worked through this, got all chapters ready for some regular steamy #TimRae goodness. I'll post regularly so all chapters will be out soon. Enjoy this first steamy TimRae nugget, my loves!

Notes: Messed around with ages and timelines. I like Tim and Raven in a more adult setting, past their teenage years. Doesn’t strictly follow any universe, rather a mix of this and that. They're adults and Damian is still a pre-teen kid.

Part Two of my Vanilla Series. Because Tim is a k!nky boi, and we know it. Here's Part 1: Flavor: Vanilla.

~

Chapter 1

“How many estates does the Wayne family have?”

As they were driving up the icy road, Raven warily eyed the large house decked in a thick blanket of snow. When Tim mentioned they’d be spending Christmas week at the family vacation home, she certainly did not expect another mansion in the outskirts of Gotham, tucked away by a range of trees and lush snowy forest cover. She thought of a cottage by the forest – not an 8-bedroom and 10-bathroom monstrosity of a home. Raven blinked and looked out the window. Was that a tennis court she just saw?

“There are a few,” Tim chuckled and they neared his childhood home. He eyed the home fondly and shot Raven a brief smile. “This one is Bruce’s favorite. We spend a lot of holidays and summers here,”

Hard to imagine that in between all the vigilante and business work, and all the dysfunctional family disasters and ill-managed feelings, the Wayne’s somehow were still able to spend some time together as a family. Raven had quickly learned after the rift between Tim and the rest of the family with losing and finding Bruce in the time stream, and all the tension between all the siblings for one reason or another, Bruce (or likely Alfred) had made it more of a habit for the family to gather whenever possible. Over the years as they have grown older, old wounds have somewhat healed. Somewhat.

“I cannot picture Bruce Wayne as the fishing-by-the-lake kind of father,” Raven mumbled, absently eyeing the snowy white trees whizzing past them.

“He likes to take Damian the lake when the brat is out of school during summers,”

Raven hummed in acknowledgement and watched as they finally approached a security gate. They’ve been driving for hours and it came to a relief that she’d be finally be able to stretch her legs. But the idea of finally, officially, meeting the Wayne family “outside of work” unsettled her. Worry loomed in the pit of her stomach as they drove up the driveway of the large house made of intricate stonework, impossibly large windows, and aged wood. She inhaled softly, staring at the home muted by the thick blanket of snow. It was beautiful.

“Who drives a motorcycle in the middle of winter?” Raven frowned when they drove past a large motorcycle covered in snow carefully parked next to pine trees.

“Jason,” said Tim as they finally came to a stop under the car shed next to Bruce’s Bugatti. Who drives a Bugatti in the middle of a cold wave? Raven eyed the car.

“We’re here,” Tim announced. A blanket of silence dropped over them with only the soft noise of the engine filling the air, Tim allowed Raven to process their arrival. He watched as she stared out the car window, taking in the snowy garden.

After the Killer Croc incident and the discovery of the rather embarrassingly ill-placed hickey, the entire family assumed that he was seeing someone. For a period, Jason had been talking non-stop about Tim’s sex life (“Dude, you are a kinky piece of shit.”) and Bruce had dropped invitations to holiday and gala dinners, which Raven remained hesitant to attend. After a year of postponing dinners, they did finally decide to attend this Christmas getaway after Alfred told Tim “It would be nice to finally meet your partner, Master Tim. I would like to meet and thank her for taking care of you, my boy. It would be wonderful to get to know her,” he said. And that was that. No one declines Alfred.

It was a miracle that they kept the relationship under wraps for over a year now. Tim understood Raven’s need for privacy and her hesitation to meet Bruce. Some wounds still ran deep, no matter how long ago their first encounter was. The thought still left a bad taste in his mouth, the idea of a young Raven being turned down by the Justice League. He knew that there was still bad blood between her and Zatanna while Clark tried his best to make up for their hasty decisions over her. He watched Raven inhale softly and fiddle with one of the silver rings on her left finger. “Hey,” he said softly and reached out to touch her hand. Deep blue eyes stared back at him and he cracked a soft smile. “All good?”

Raven returned the small smile and tilted her head just a little bit. “You think very loudly,” she said and adjusted her hand in his so they could hold hands. Years ago, she’d shy away from this kind of contact. It was strange how time has changed her. She watched Tim’s smile brighten and she released a nervous breath she was holding. “Yeah, I’m good,”

Tim gave her hand an encouraging squeezing. “We don’t have to do this, you know?”

“I know,” Raven replied. “But I guess now is a good time as any,”

He gave her hand another encouraging squeeze. “It’s not like they don’t know you anyway,”

Raven snorted ungracefully and rolled her eyes. “I’ve spent more time with everyone in that house in masks and Kevlar than unmasked. I’m thrilled to see everyone in their silk PJs,” she said dryly.

“I guess now’s the best time to meet everybody unmasked,” Tim told her. He released her hand and turned to shut the engine. He turned back to her and smiled, grabbing her arm and gently tugging her towards him. He pressed a long kiss against her lips. “C’mon. Let’s go inside,”

They stepped out of Tim’s warm car and into the biting cold. It was mid-afternoon and it was already slowly getting dark, and everything was becoming colder. Raven made a face and pulled the grey bonnet over her ears and joined Tim by the trunk. They pulled out their duffle bags and slowly trekked towards the front doors of the mansion (calling the monstrosity of a house a cottage in the woods would seem insulting). Raven eyed the house in awe and apprehension.

Hurrying up the wooden stairs and stomping off the snow from their boots by the worn mat, Tim fished out his keys from his pants. Throwing her a curious look, he slid the silver key into the lock. “Ready?”

Raven made a face and her eyes momentarily slid towards one of the frosted windows, seeing warm light past the heavy curtains. “Not really,”

“Raven,” Tim breathed, eyes widening, and his hand stilled.

Raven rolled her eyes and gently nudged his shoulder. “I’m kidding. C’mon, I’m freezing, and I need to pee,” she whispered teasingly.

“Tease,” Tim grinned at her gasp as his cold nose pressed against her cheek for a quick peck. Turning back to the door, he unlocked it and quickly opened the heavy front door. As they entered the welcome warmth of the foyer, they were greeted by the familiar movie soundtrack of the Grinch. Removing their coats and leaving their bags for later, Tim led Raven towards the living room. “We’re here!” he announced.

“Timbo, in here!” They heard Dick from the other room over the noise of the Grinch followed by low muttering and scuffling. “Sit up, Jason! Don’t embarrass us in front of his girlfriend!”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Dickface,”

“Hey guys,” Tim entered the large living room and found his whole family scattered across the ridiculously large leather sofa and carpeted floor. He felt Raven hesitate beside him before appearing next to him and Tim snorted at the collective response of shock and surprise from everyone.

“Hey Timbers – oh my fuck.”

“Master Jason, language!”

“Raven?!”

In hindsight, perhaps it was a bad idea for her to just join the family for their Christmas weekend as every single member of the Wayne family openly stared at Raven and Tim. Raven inhaled softly and took a step back as she felt the onslaught of emotions. She watched the open surprise cross Bruce face, and she quickly averted her gaze to Dick, who gaped at her like a fish. Yep, definitely not a good idea. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she felt out of place.

“Raven,”

She turned to Bruce again and she blinked as the man rose from his seat on the sofa, a rather ugly throw blanket slipping from his thighs. She quirked a nervous smile and breathed. “Hi,” she said. Blinking, she waved lamely. “I brought wine?”

“You and Tim?” Dick blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. How did his second-in-command start dating his younger brother? How did he even miss this? “How? When?” Dick blinked lamely. “Huh?”

“Raven!” a small lithe bundle of a soft green Christmas sweater bounded towards the couple and hugged Raven. “It’s you!”

“Hi Cass,” Raven chuckled and hugged the younger woman. Over Cass’s shoulder she and Tim exchanged small smiles. Raven always had a soft spot for Tim’s sister. Cass turned in Raven’s arms and eyed Tim with a playful look and nudged his shoulder. “You kept secret!”

“Sorry,” Tim laughed and waved his hands in defense.

“Perhaps Miss Raven and Master Tim would like to freshen up a bit before we have some afternoon tea? Or hot chocolate. I’d think that would be a great idea, don’t you think?” Alfred said this with an air of finality as he stood up and briefly glanced at his wards before turning to the couple and smiling kindly at them. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Miss Raven.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Raven smiled, tension leaving her shoulders. She pulled away from Cass and the girls gently squeezed hands.

Tim cleared his throat at the collective surprise still in the room. Bouncing on his heels, he turned to Raven. “Okay. Bathroom?” Raven nodded, relief flooding her face at the chance to escape the awkward introductions. Turning back to his flustered family, he rolled his eyes and absently took Raven’s hand. “We’ll be back. You guys get it together,” he told them before turning on his heels and gently tugging Raven back to the foyer.

Leaving the surprised family in the living room (“You guys better not get handsy up there” “Jasssssonn!”), Tim and Raven picked up their bags and made it to Tim’s old bedroom. Raven raised an eyebrow in amusement at the sight of old band posters on the wall.

“Bathroom’s over there,” Tim pointed toward the door in the corner that led to the private bathroom. Raven hummed in acknowledgement, still keyed up from all the emotions downstairs.

After puttering around in the bathroom and washing her face, Raven emerged from the rather ridiculously luxurious personal bathroom (she was definitely going to take a long, hot bath and put up some scented candles in there) and found Tim absently tinkering with an old laptop on his desk. Ignoring Tim, she walked around his old bedroom, taking in old books lined in a bookshelf. Finding some curious titles, she thought she might want to check out for later. She smiled and picked up an old Superman action figure. She moved to the wall that held a few of Tim’s old photographs. An old gritty photograph of Gotham Tower with the Bat Symbol illuminated behind it hung in the middle of an array of landscape photos.

“I took that when I was 9,” Tim said, joining her by the wall and pulling the old action figure of Clark out of her hands. They shared a smile as he waved Superman’s arms around lamely before dropping it back on the shelf.

“You haven’t done photography for some time,” Raven commented.

“Been busy. You know, saving Gotham, running a company, staying alive,” Tim smiled and watched as Raven quirked her lips in response. He watched her move around his old room in curiosity, taking in old trinkets and photos, eyeing books and posters, and smiling fondly at old memorabilia. He felt a warmth spread inside of him as he watched Raven, in her oversized grey kitten sweater, study parts of his old life. While life as a Wayne (and a Drake) was beyond messy, he realized that this – the sight of Raven gently pressed against the large windows of his old room watching snow gently fall into the garden – was something he wanted Raven to be a part of in his life and share more with her – mess and everything.

Raven looked over the shoulder, offering a rare smile at the gentle press of his warm emotions. “You’re on vacation now. Maybe we can walk around and take some photos,” she said. She watched Tim join her by the window and wrap an arm around her waist. He offered her a gentle smile. “I’d like that.”

“So,” Tim breathed, a warm lilt in his voice as he looked at her. “What do you think so far?”

Raven tilted her head and hummed. “Do you think they’d mind if I just spend my entire time here in this room?” she asked teasingly.

Tim laughed and squeezed her hip. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, her held her close and allowed his hand to slip underneath her sweater for another gentle squeeze. “As much as I’d like to keep you in my childhood bedroom, I don’t think Alfred would approve.” He mumbled into her hair.

Raven hummed and shifted in his arms, she looked over his shoulders at his ridiculously large bed and back up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. “But there is so much we could do in here,” she said.

Tim laughed softly and pulled her closer to him, relishing the soft press of her against him. “Oh, believe me, I have plans for you,” he said against her cheek and grinned at her soft chuckle. He gave her hip a teasing squeeze before kissing her fully on the lips. He had missed her; they had not seen each other the last few weeks because of her off-earth mission. He had every intention of making sure they made up for lost time in his old bedroom.

Raven hummed against his lips before pulling away, a small smile playing on her lips. “Such loud dirty thoughts, Tim Wayne” she teased and gently nudged him away. Rolling her eyes at the guilty chuckle, she stepped out of his arms and brushed her hair back with her hands. “Do you think we should go back downstairs?”

“Yeah, let’s. I promise you that Alfred’s hot chocolate is to die for,” Tim said while leading her out of the bedroom.

If the rich chocolate smell was any indication, Alfred’s hot chocolate smelled divine. Raven blinked, trying to come to terms of the domesticity of the entire scene in front of her – Bruce Wayne, Batman, in comfortable house slippers and a grey sweater that probably cost more than what she made each month, carrying a tray of sugar cookies into the sitting room. The rest of his brood were gathered around a glass coffee table, with steaming porcelain mugs in their hands.

Cass perked up around her mug at the sight of Raven and Tim entering the room. She waved them over from where she sat curled up next to the table within easy reach of the cookies that Bruce just deposited on the table. “Come, sit!”

Bruce’s raised his eyebrows at the couple and he straightened. He looked at Tim for a brief moment before locking eyes with Raven. It momentarily startled him to see the woman in front of him, out of her uniform, a much older version of that young girl he had met so many years ago begging for their help. The memory unsettled him for a moment, a shift of emotions he was sure Raven caught as her head tilted just a fraction of an inch and she blinked. He smiled instead and placed the cookie tray on the table as she and Tim approach the group.

“Hi, Bruce,” Raven greeted Bruce, barely catching his mix of emotions and she smiled lightly up at the older man.

“Hello, Raven. It’s nice to have you with us.” Bruce eyes shift to towards Tim and he quirked an amused eyebrow. “It’s quite a Christmas surprise,”

“A rather pleasant one, if I may add,” pipped in Alfred as he appeared with a tray of more mugs of hot chocolate. He and Raven exchanged smiles. Raven always liked Alfred.

“Sit,” Cass grabbed Raven’s hand and tugged her towards the coffee table, obviously thrilled to have a girl in the house to spend time with. Raven smiled and allowed herself to be tugged to the floor next to Cass. She shared a quick amused glance at Tim before turning to the younger woman as she pressed a hot mug of chocolate into her hands. “Drink.”

“Thanks,” Raven smiled and folded her legs underneath her. The hot chocolate smelled delicious and the heat of the mug warmed her cold hands. She felt some of her tension slowly melt away.

“Why didn’t I know about you two!” Dick exclaimed from his perch on the loveseat. He sent hurt looks to both Raven and Tim. His blue eyes widened in realization. “So that’s where you run off to sometimes. You said you’re going to a museum!”

“To be fair, I did,” said Raven, sending Dick an amused look before taking a tentative sip of the hot chocolate. It was delicious. She hummed in approval and shared a small smile with Cass.

“Just with me most of the time,” Tim grinned at Dick after gabbing one of the mugs from the table and plopping down into the large sofa he shared with Bruce.

“Soooo,” Jason announced sounding terribly smug from where he was sprawled out over an overstuffed armchair. He lolled his head towards Raven and his green eyes shone with mischief. “It was you who gave Timbers that crotch hickey.”

“Jason!”

Dick coughed loudly into hot chocolate, chocking on one too many marshmallows. He did not need to know that. “Jason, damn it!”

“Language, boys!” Bruce sighed loudly and watched as Jason grinned smugly at Raven, their houseguest – Tim’s secret girlfriend. And thanks to Jason’s not so gentle reminder, said culprit of Tim’s large hickey he had the misfortune of seeing many months ago. He sunk into his seat in the sofa and mentally groaned at the terrible mental image. He really did not want anything to do with his sons’ sex lives. They were all adults, but still – Bruce sighed.

Of course. Trust Jason Todd to bring up sex. Ignoring Tim’s embarrassment and the heat that crept up her cheeks, Raven narrowed her eyes and stared back at an amused Jason waiting for her answer. “Yes.”

“Raven!” Dick whined.

Jason cackled and hot chocolate dangerously sloshed around in his expensive porcelain mug. “I like her!”

Bruce sighed and took another long drink of Alfred’s hot chocolate. He needed sugar. Thank god Damian was out walking Titus, he definitely did not need his 13-year-old son to hear about Tim’s sex life. Or hearing it confirmed by Raven.

As if on cue, the front door opened and Damian announced his arrival. There was quiet shuffling in the background and a distinct bark before the Damian’s monstrosity of a dog came bounding into the room followed by his youngest son. Damian blinked in confusion at the sight of Raven talking to Cass, obviously wondering what the Titan was doing here. Titus on the other hand stood at attention at the sight of the newcomer and barked briefly at Raven, gaining her attention, before lying down a few feet away from her and watching her cautiously with a loud whine.

“Is there a mission?” asked Damian, eyeing Raven quizzically before turning to Dick and then to Bruce.

Jason snorted and swung his socked feet over the armrest. Taking a rather dangerous sip of his hot chocolate from his precarious position on the armchair, he grinned in amusement at the little brat. “Please meet Timmy’s girlfriend,” he said dramatically, theatrically waiving at Raven with his mug.

Damian eyes widened briefly before shooting Tim a quick glance and turning to a mildly amused Raven. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told her dryly.

“Hey!”

Raven chuckled softly. She shared an amused smile with an indignant Tim before turning back to an unfazed Damian. He stared at her for a moment, unsure what to do. They had rarely interacted outside of missions, the boy had held her at arm’s length at times – probably because of whatever knowledge he had of her from his grandfather and the League. Though she wouldn’t blame him, she’d hold herself at arm’s length too. She titled her head, the corner of her lips quirking slightly as she sensed the young boy’s unsure emotions. “It’s nice to see you again, Damian,” she said.

Damian blinked. His gaze shifted back to Tim, who was watching him intently. Turning back to Raven, he stiffly nodded. “Welcome to our home,” he replied automatically.

“Such an exciting welcome wagon you are,” Jason said dryly, shooting the short boy a teasing smirk while helping himself to another mug of hot chocolate.

“Dami have some hot chocolate,” Dick beckoned Damian towards the coffee table as he heaped another healthy spoonful of marshmallows into his mug. Raven always wondered how Dick’s sugar levels seemed to do so well during Cyborg’s annual physicals.

While Damian busied himself in pouring his own mug, Dick looked curiously at Raven and Tim, watching in astonishment as Raven handed over her phone for Tim to keep as she sat cross-legged on the floor next to Cass. He watched Tim stuff the device into his pocket and Dick blinked – it was so odd to see Raven allow such simple intimate acts around her. When Gar tried to even touch her phone, he would be blasted off the roof. He pulled himself out of his reverie as Damian unceremoniously plopped down next to him and Dick nearly spilled his drink. Catching Raven’s eyes, Dick smiled brightly, and pressed on with their earlier conversation. “So, when did this start?” he asked.

“Oh,” Tim breathed. He watched as Raven looked over her shoulder to catch his stare. Turning back to Dick, he tapped his mug thoughtfully, wondering just how much they should get into detail. “Remember that mission in Lisbon?” he asked.

Dick’s eyebrows furrowed remembering the Titan’s mission of taking on that inter-galactic firearm smuggling ring led by Slade. There was a lot of fighting, shooting, and blood. They had Red Robin join to help Cyborg hack into the several space stations and track local smuggling movements. His eyes widened at he stared at Tim. “What? That was over a year ago. I was there. You two got into arguments!” he accused. He turned to Raven with a bewildered look, feeling utterly confused. “You said his plan was, I quote, ‘fiery hot mess’ and he was stupid beyond belief.” Jason released a bark of laughter in the background.

Raven shrugged dismissively. “It was. He is.”

“No, reckless. The word was reckless.” Tim tutted.

Raven rolled her eyes. “And still stupid. You got shot.”

“Still took down the entire operation.” Tim grinned and they shared a small private smile. Turning back to Dick, he offered an easy shrug, as if everything explained for itself. “Asked Raven out on a date once we all got back and recovered from blood loss.”

Dick gaped at them, still thoroughly confused. “That was 18 months ago. How? All this time –?”

Damian sighed loudly looking rather bored. “Your detective skills are rather disappointing, Richard, if you failed to take notice for the last 18 months,” he said. Dick made a disgruntled sound next to him.

“I’m happy!” Cass announced nudging Raven and the two shared a smile. Raven felt herself relax, as an easy conversation fell on the group and everyone continued to tease Dick for his terrible situational awareness skills. She chuckled at a joke Jason threw at Dick and looked over at Bruce, who remained quiet throughout most of the conversation. She caught his eye briefly and felt whatever tension that was left in her leave as the two shared a rather brief smile.

Dinner was a chaotic affair as promised with Jason and Damian, and on occasion Tim, getting into arguments and Dick trying to placate the situation. Though it was not like Raven was not used to the chaos, after living with Victor and Garfield, and Jinx, for so long. Tim had agreed that he and Raven would help Alfred in his baking tomorrow. When Cass was not busy talking to Raven, she’d endlessly tease Tim or Jason for one thing or the other. Bruce looked over his children occasionally trying to break up arguments or admonish Jason for his cursing. It was a surprising sight, to see this different side of Batman, and it threw Raven into a loop. It was admittedly nice, despite her initial apprehensions, to meet everyone outside of their Kevlar and masks.

“So?” asked Tim later that evening as he appeared from the bathroom barefoot in nothing but his sweatpants. Raven looked up from reading an old philosophy book. She watched Tim towel his wet hair as he approached the bed. Closing the book, she allowed a small smile to play on her lips as she watched him approach, appreciating as the defined muscles rippled with each movement. Tim’s work with his bo staff does wonders – not that it was something she’d openly admit. She caught his amused emotions as he sat down on his side of the bed, catching her stare. “What do you think of today?” he asked her, reaching out and affectionately squeezing her calf.

“It was alright,” Raven replied, placing the book on the bedside table. She turned to Tim and watched him haphazardly throw his used towel onto the nearby office chair. “I’ll pick it up, I promise,” he chuckled as she rolled her eyes. Tim turned off his bedside lamp, engulfing them in the soft light from Raven’s lamp. Climbing into bed next to her, he turned to his side and propped his head on his left hand. “Was it?” he probed.

Raven sighed and sunk into bed next to him. She looked up at him as Tim gently brushed some of her hair behind her ear. “It’s different,” she admitted. “I’m still getting used to the idea of seeing Batman in Armani lounge wear.” Tim snorted ungracefully. “It’ll take some time adjusting to all these emotions from everyone. But it’s nice to meet your family outside of work. Thank you for you bringing me here to meet them,” she told him.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’d like to share this with you. It’s a bit messy and chaotic, but it’s family. I’m happy you’re here,” said Tim gently. He offered her a small smile and grabbed her left hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry if everything is a bit overwhelming. We can always go home when you want to,”

“I know. Thank you.” Raven replied and tugged Tim towards her, allowing him into her space and wrapped his arms around her. She did not realize her emotions were so keyed up until now. Her emotions settled at the familiar press of Tim’s body and the warm press of his emotions against hers. She felt one of his hands slip under her camisole and fingers fanned against the small of her back. She sighed contently and melted into the embrace. She felt a mumbled “I love you” and a kiss against her forehead and she smiled, fingers curling around Tim’s bicep. She hummed and pressed forward, clumsily kissing Tim on the cheek. “I love you too,” she whispered, a little breathless. It often amazed her as she found herself saying these words, three words she thought she’d never say intimately to anyone. Strange how Tim seemed to have easily settled into her life.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, silently relishing the intimate moment between them. Raven quickly learned into the relationship how much Tim enjoyed giving and receiving affection, a result from his own demons of the past. Giving affection so openly was something she gradually learned to do over time. Tim had a way of helping her learn and grow over the year.

She felt Tim shift and before she could acknowledge his change of emotions, she yelped softly as his leg slipped between hers and his foot brushed against her own. “Cold feet!” Raven gasped, trying to jerk her feet away as Tim wrapped his feet around her and pulled her against his chuckling chest.

“Share some body heat,” Tim chuckled against her hair and his legs held her own in place. He shifted again, enjoying the gentle press of her curves against him. Slipping his thigh just a little bit higher between her legs, he smiled as Raven shifted towards him, her thigh brushing against his own.

“I know what you’re doing,” there was an amused lilt in her voice. She could feel the hard press of him against her hip and she canted her hips just a little bit to brush against him. Raven hummed at Tim’s soft sigh.

“I know that there’s a no powers rule in this house,” Tim mumbled and his hand slipped over the curve of her ass and gently squeezed. He heard Raven hum against his chest. He felt her lean up and kiss the hallow of his neck. He bit back a groan as Raven shifted, deliberately brushing up against him. He squeezed her tightly, amused at her teasing. “But,” he breathed and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Do you think you could cast a silencing spell in this room or something?”

“Oh?” Raven breathed, look up at Tim in amusement. Her eyes danced in delight as nimble fingers slid under her shirt again and traced her spine. “What for?”

“Well,” whispered Tim and nudged her up to get her face closer to his. He grinned impishly at her amused face and briefly tipped forward to languidly kiss her, relishing the needy press of her lips and tongue against his own. Pulling away, he chuckled at the soft whine of protest and leaned forward to briefly kiss the crook of her neck before leaning into her ear. “I really don’t want anyone in this house to hear what’s about to happen in my childhood bedroom,”

An excited thrill ran down her back and Raven felt heat pool low in her stomach. “Oh?” she whispered catching the wolfish smile on Tim’s lips. She draped her right hand over Tim’s bare shoulder as he turned and pressed her into the mattress. Her fingers tingled with magic, spell ready at her fingertips, as she teasingly traced a protruding scar on his deltoid. “What’s going to happen?”

Tim clucked his tongue catching the teasing glint in her eyes. “I’ll have to show you then.”

Raven just had about enough sense and time to release the spell from her fingertips just as Tim’s fingers easily slipped underneath her pajama bottoms and inter sleek, hot heat. Legs spreading instantly, back arching, and jaw dropping at the delicious friction, Raven gasped loudly.

“TIM!”

Raven released a breathy gasp as fingers moved slowly into her. The rhythm slick wet noise of Tim’s fingers driving into her at a steady pace had heat pooling low in her abdomen and her legs quivered in anticipation. His fingers steadily increased their speed, drawing out long whines and soft moans from her.

Despite the cool Christmas air, she felt her skin warm as heat shot through her body. She felt Tim’s heady press of desire as he kissed the pulse point of her neck and teeth gently scraped against her sensitive skin. Raven whimpered as she felt him push and prod against the bundle of nerves, her hips gently thrusting against his fingers chasing for release. She felt herself so close to tumbling over the edge.

“Shhh,” Tim whispered teasingly, hooded eyes drinking in her undone state. Nipping the underside of her chin, he listened to her release another breathy whimper as he continued his steady ministration into her sleek heat. Over her gasps and groans, he could hear the wet sounds of his fingers pumping into her. His cock twitched in anticipation. “The others might hear you,” he teased, watching as she gasped and bucked into his hand. They were lucky she cast the silencing spell as Raven whimpered and fluttered around his fingers, release just a few strokes away.

“Please,” Raven herself tumbling towards the edge as her body quivered and she greedily devoured Tim’s lust and desires press into her. She whimpered as she felt him kiss her collar bone before pulling the strap of her camisole down to expose her right breast. She gasped and groaned as his tongue flittered around her nipple before teeth and tongue eagerly engulfed the sensitive bud.

With a nip to her nipple and a few more fast, measured thrusts of his fingers, Tim watched as Raven released a strangled cry and came totally undone. Drawing out her orgasm, his fingers curled and pumped into her fluttering heat, helping her tumble down the cliff.

Raven’s back arched off their bed as her world exploded and she continued to buck into Tim’s hand, riding out the high and soaring through an explosion of colors and sounds. She gasped and whimpered, fingers curling into his bicep to help ground her and gain some control.

Their movements slowed and Tim pressed a warm kiss against her cheek, watching as Raven slowly returned from her high. Pulling his fingers out of her, he watched as Raven whimpered and writhed at the loss of contact.

“Fuck,” Raven breathed, as her senses returned, and she lazily lolled her head towards Tim watching him pull his fingers out of her. Tim hummed thoughtfully, his gaze dropping from her rumpled pajama bottoms to his soaked fingers before licking her sticky juices from his fingers. Raven released another whimper as desire and heat seemed to flare low in her abdomen again as she watched him eagerly lap up her cum from his fingers. Fucking hell, the thought of their total debauchery in her Wayne manor a distant memory.

Pausing with his careful licking, Tim hummed and smiled at her. Drinking in her disheveled look, he leaned over her again and relished the beautiful release of pressing his straining cock against her hip. Rocking into her, Tim pressed a kiss onto her cheek. “We should have a Kinky Christmas,” he whispered and teasingly hooked his fingers into her pajama bottoms and underwear, nudging them down slowly.

Raven released a breathy laugh but found herself nodding. She felt Tim tug her pajama bottoms off her with a few more tugs and pulls of hands and feet. “Give Jason more things to tease us about?”

Tim clucked and chuckled, pressing another kiss into the hallow of her neck and listening to her breathy intake of breath. He quickly removed his own pants, sighing as his member sprang free and brushed against her thigh. “We got the silencing spell up,” he said while pushing her legs apart and settling in between them. They groaned as his member brushed against her core. “This will be our little Kinky Christmas celebration,”

Raven hummed, hands draping over his shoulders as she eagerly rocked into his hips in anticipation. The room was stifling, and she wanted so, so much more. Drinking in his heated stare, Raven gave him languid smile, and spread her legs just a little bit more.

“Then let the festivities begin,”

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 12

Day 12 - You meet your soulmate in your dreams every night.

Pairing(s): Romantic Remile, Romantic Moceit, Romantic Dukexiety, Past Romantic Dukeceit

TWs: sexual language, mentions of childbirth, Remus being Remus, swearing

--

Emile Picani knew something was up with his soulmate.

Their link, as almost all did, formed when they were twelve. And right off the bat, when his soulmate kept flitting in and out of sight, he knew their first meeting would be interesting. Emile had sat up from his dream bed to see a young boy with raven hair that shone a dazzling blue in the light, and pale skin adorned with freckles that stood out like stars in the night sky. 

So sue him, Emile was going through a poetic phase. 

He’d walked over to start up the conversation, “Soulmate! Do you, how do? My name’s-”

Was as far as he got before the boy disappeared. At first, Emile panicked; what happened?! Did his soulmate hate him on sight and wake up-

Oh, there he is.

The boy reappeared, taking in Emile as he looked him up and down with his mocha coloured eyes, “Oh, you’re still here, babes. Cool.”

Huh. Interesting response, but Emile trusted in fate, extending a hand again, “As I was saying before you got spirited away, I’m Emile Picani! What’s your name?”

“Nice Ghibli reference. I’m Remy Duke,”, he yawned, reaching for Emile’s hand lazily, “Nice to meet you. So like, you’re my soulmate? I’m like, not just dreaming?”

Emile shook his head, “Nope! It’s really me! I hope you’re not disappointed- Ah, sorry, my pops says I shouldn’t say stuff like that-”

“He’s right, you shouldn’t.”, was the blunt response he got.

Sensing that he might’ve made his soulmate uncomfortable, Remy elaborated, “My ren says you should totes avoid negative thinking. Like, if you keep thinking you’re disappointing me, you’re only gonna like, reinforce that idea. And being that anxious is not a good look on you, sweetie.”

Emile wasn’t sure what to think, but the advice made him feel… really happy, actually. His soulmate cares! He went to thank him, but Remy had disappeared again. Dang. Emile waited until Remy returned, humming to himself when he heard his soulmate’s voice again,

“Whoa, you like Steven Universe?”

Emile’s smile glistened with delight that Remy had recognised the tune of Independant Together, “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character!? Mine’s Steven!! But if I had to pick a gem, I’d say Spinel’s my new favourite!” 

Remy rolled his eyes, but Emile read the gesture as a fond one, “Cool.” . He figured his soulmate wouldn’t answer further but then Remy continued, “I like Buck Dewey. He’s totes underrated. As for the gems, like, there’s no question babes. Garnet’s the best.”

Thankfully, Remy was able to stay for the rest of the night until the two of them realised it’d be morning soon.

“Oh, before you go, maybe we should find out where we both live! That way we can-”

Remy shook his head, “Nah babes. Let’s make this fun. It’s like, way too boring if we make things THAT easy.”. He noted how upset Emile looked and took pity, “Tell you what babes, how about every time we meet, we both get one yes or no question. Make it a game. First one to guess where the other lives wins.”

Emile smiled, mirroring Remy’s playful one, “Alright then! Can I go first?”

“As long as you’re quick babes.”

“Oh, right!”, Emile cleared his throat, “Are you in the US?”

With a dramatic, yet monotone sigh, Remy retorted, “Unfortunately-”

“Remyyyy!”, Emile chuckled, “You’re breaking your own rule. It’s yes or no, silly!”

Remy rolled his eyes, but the sigh he gave had nothing but fondness, “Alright, alright. Yes.”. He stretched his arms, “Same question to you babes, you stuck in this crapsack of a country too?”

“Yes.”, Emile answered, “Unfortunately.”

The chuckle he got back from Remy left him with a smile on his face as he awoke that morning. Emile wasted no time in brushing his teeth and heading to breakfast with a spring in his step to tell his fathers the great news. 

--

Unknowingly just a few miles away, another young lad awoke and dragged himself lazily down the stairs where his father and ren were having one of their early morning romantic tension arguments.

“The knife’s the pussy option, Virge!”, his father Remus had chided, shoving a handful of trix into his mouth with his bare hand, “Knives don’t do shit!”

Remy’s ren, Virgil, massaged their temples in frustration. Going by the shade of their face being somewhere between embarrassed tomato and devil’s asscrack crimson, Remy figured they’d been on this tangent for the last hour or so.

“What the FUCK do you mean ‘knives don’t do shit’?! It’s a fucking KNIFE, dipshit! What the fuck is a spoon gonna do!?”

Virgil yanked the cereal from Remus and began pouring him a proper bowl, to which the messy man scoffed, “Virge, you’re not thinking about the bigger picture!”

“What bigger picture?! We’re talking about which would be best in a casual alleyway fight, right?! Just bring a goddamn knife!”

Ah. 

Context. 

Gotta love it.

Remy walked undetected past the two of them to go digging in the hall closet dryer for his favourite shirt while his father made his case.

“That’s predictable, babe! You’re not thinking about the psychology of it, Virge!”, Remus protested, “Look, any bozo can grab a knife, big deal! Your chances of being intimidating with that alone are, what, four in ten?!”, he bullshitted, gesticulating wildly as he picked up a spoon, wielding it like a cutlass, “But if you pick a spoon!? Thats like saying “Hey I’m fuckin’ crazy”!! I’m not gonna go up against the mother fucker that picks a spoon! You know how crazy that looks!?”

“Very much so, yeah.”, Virgil deadpanned, making direct eye contact with Remus who returned that glare with a wink.

“Careful, last time you gave me that look, we had to start buying baby clothes.”

Virgil scoffed, but it was hard to hide the exhausted smirk they bore, “Oh fuck you. Take your cereal and sit down.”

Remus did neither of those things, instead wrapping his arms around Virgil’s waist and pulling them closer, “I mean, if you wanna-“

“Like, maybe we can keep the horny out of the kitchen?”, Remy piped up, watching his ren damn near leap out of their skin while his father burst into laughter.

“No promises!”, Remus jested, taking the bowl of cereal Virgil had made for him and downing it like he was chugging cheap beer at a frat party. Virgil sighed in exhaustion but gestured for Remy to have a seat at the table, “So, how’d your first soulmate dream go, Rem? Did you get a name?”

Remy slung himself into his usual seat at the table, “Yeah. His name’s Emile Picani.”

The immediate silence was palpable for a second, even Remus didn’t dare make a sound when Virgil spoke up, “Remus, wasn’t your ex’s name Janus Picani?”

Remy hadn’t seen his father in a flight or fight situation like this before; sure there was this one time in WalMart, but he didn’t have a melon baller, two packs of toilet paper, and a plunger at hand like that time. Instead, his father was armed only with a banana he had snatched from the fruit bowl and taken a bite of. With the peel still on. Speaking with his mouth full and earning a disgusted eye roll from his partner, Remus finally managed to offer a response.

--

“It’s probably not the same guy.”

Janus Picani unknowingly echoed his ex boyfriend under his breath, inaudible to his son. 

Of all the names Emile could’ve given, why’d the surname have to be Duke? He had never told his husband Patton about the whole ex-boyfriend thing; Janus thought it best no one ever knew lest he be judged harshly. Sure, he’d never exactly cared what others thought - and many did share his opinion that holding off ANY romantic or sexual activity until you met your soulmate wasn’t always entirely healthy or doable - but the idea of Patton possibly being let down or upset by the news…

Janus didn’t want to think about it. No, he wouldn’t entertain the thought. After all, he had breakfast to make, fried eggs to watch over, toast to be ready to butter when it popped up.

Besides, Duke was probably a common surname, right? 

Probably. 

Maybe.. 

Hopefully.

“Did Remy tell you where he lives, sweetie? We can always drive you over to meet him after school if it’s close enough!”, Patton chirped excitedly from the seat next to his son, unknowingly setting Janus even more on edge. 

Please say he’s across the country. Please say he’s in another state. Please say he’s ANYWHERE but close by-

“Oh, we’re making a game of it!”

Janus’ curiosity peaked, but his anxiety remained on hold just in case.

“Every time we meet, we get to ask one yes or no question, then whoever guesses the other’s location first wins! Isn’t that exciting!?”

His enthusiasm was contagious. Patton was practically bouncing in his chair, “Oh that’s so cute!! It’s just like a romcom!”, he began, then corrected, “Oh, unless you’re both platonic, don’t worry kiddo, that’s fine too-”

“Thanks popstar, but I um,”, Emile flushed a little, hiding in his pastel yellow cardigan, “I really like him. I know it’s dumb ‘cause we only just met but… but he’s so cool!”

Janus listened in on his son’s adorable recounting of the encounter; how the two had talked about cartoons for hours, and the oddity of Remy flickering back and forth from the soulscape at first. The curiosity in Janus won out as he finished cooking their breakfast and brought their plates to the table. 

“He sounds like a lovely young man,”, Janus led with, hoping to at least quell some of his fears, “Do we get to know what he looks like, perhaps?”

Patton gasped excitedly, “Yessss!! Then if we pass him on the street, we can say hello!”

Thankful for Patton’s backup, if not for the same reasons, Janus nodded and Emile enthusiastically took out his notebook to start trying to draw his soulmate from memory,

“Well, he’s got really gorgeous eyes! And lots of freckles!-”

His pencils were almost combusting at the sheer speed Emile was working up the more he got excited about his soulmate. His fathers both unknowingly thought back to his adoption; he’d been so shy at first, barely able to look either of them in the eye, but after just a couple of weeks being allowed to express himself creatively in ways he hadn’t been able to do before with his birth parents, Emile had grown into the same excitable young lad they were watching right that second. Wordlessly, Patton slid his hands into Janus’ hold, who sweetly returned the loving gesture with a soft lacing of their fingers together. 

They were inches from leaning in for a kiss momentarily before Emile excitedly announced that he was done, “This is him! Isn’t he the coolest?!”

Janus scanned the drawing, noting both his son’s artistic talent and feeling a small burst of relief. The kid didn’t resemble Remus at all. For now at least he could sleep easy knowing he wouldn’t have to face his ex again.

--

Janus ate his words three months later.

Emile and Remy had continued to meet within their dreams, playing their guessing game as always until, thanks to Patton’s help, he managed to guess close enough to Remy’s location. True to his word, Remy had given Emile the address and lo and behold, they were only a couple of miles away from each other.

Janus couldn’t say he wasn’t happy for them, he was thrilled in fact. However, as he stood at the front door of Remy’s parents house staring at the face of his ex boyfriend, he couldn’t deny the urge he had to run away immediately. The moment of silence was unbearable. Perhaps he could pretend he didn’t know- “Well shit, it IS you, Snake Face!”

Nevermind.

Janus resisted the urge to scratch at the eczema that adorned the left half of his face, clearing his throat, “It’s good to see you too, Remus.”

Patton and Emile were shocked by the revelation, while Virgil and Remy were entirely unphased. Though Remy was certainly more preoccupied by his soulmate.

Emile was so much cuter in person; his jade green eyes, his honey skin, the cute puff of purple hair, the dorkiest Disney themed sweater Remy had ever seen. It took him a second to realise he was staring too long and blocking the door.

“Oh, uh, come in or whatever, babes.”

He reached out to lead his soulmate into the house, followed by a gaggle of awkward parents.

“So, Jan, darling,”, Patton piped up, “How do you and um-“

“Remus!”, the man grinned.

“You and Remus know each other?”

Janus was about to answer with a well crafted lie when Remus beat him to the punch, “Oh! Dee’s my ex!”

The immediate silence that followed from all six occupants of the house was so much worse than Janus had anticipated. Emile sported an expression of shock, and he didn’t want to hazard seeing Patton’s face. Seeing how disappointed he’d be that he’d lied to him-

“Oh! Well that was ….. Un-ex-pected!”, Patton punned, earning mostly groans but a hearty chuckle from Remus. Janus looked over to his husband, stunned to note that he didn’t seem angry. Perhaps he’d been worried over nothing after all. 

Virgil was first to speak up as they offered the others a seat on the sofa while Remy and Emile were excused to go play video games while the adults talked.

“So I take it you didn’t tell your..“, Remus stalled, hoping Patton would fill in the pieces.

“Husband.”

“Husband,”, Remus began, “that we used to hardcore date back in the day?”

Janus felt his stomach lurch as Patton shifted beside him; neither farther away nor closer to him. Perhaps that made it much worse. 

“In my defense, Remus, we both knew it wasn’t exactly anything serious-”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say. It was brief, but Janus noted the flash of disappointment in Remus’ eyes. Not exactly that of a hopeful ex lover realising they didn’t have a second chance, mind you. More so someone who clearly had wanted a close friendship, or at least SOME kind of meaningful relationship with the man he’d grown close to. 

Man, Janus felt like such a bastard.

“Apologies, Remus. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh-“

“It’s fine, Snake ‘n’ Flake,”, Okay maybe Janus didn’t feel too bad, “I mean, it stings a little but whatever. We both found our soulmates, so who cares about what we got up to on campus-”

Patton cleared his throat politely, but firmly, “Sorry to interrupt but um, Virgil, was it? How long had you known about it?”

Janus knew that expression; Patton’s “I want to know how much of a fool I’ve been” face was unmistakable. Maybe he was mad at Janus after all.

Virgil snorted, playing with their hoodie strings in a stimming gesture, “Dude, his opening line when we met was “I hope you don’t mind that this ass has some mileage on it.”. Remus doesn’t do subtlety.”

Maybe if Janus wished hard enough the floor would eat him alive. Patton gave a quiet, thoughtful nod and the conversation diverted unexpectedly after that. Not that Janus wasn’t relieved, but the way Patton seemed to pivot so quickly into another topic felt all too much like he was avoiding the whole thing. Janus may be a coward, but seeing his husband try to act like the information wasn’t hurting him was so much worse. He dug his phone out of his pocket and feigned surprise,

“... Would you excuse me, I have a missed business call, it won’t take a second.”

Virgil and Remus watched him go, Patton giving him the smallest nod in acknowledgement for now as the conversation swerved back into more parenting talk. 

Janus wasn’t sure how long Patton would give it before he came out to the front porch to talk; they’d had the system in place ever since they realised Emile would get curious and listen into their conversations sometimes. Missed business calls for Janus, another long catch up with his Aunt Patty for Patton. Both were code phrases for the same thing: we need to talk.

Patton had given it five minutes before he’d come to check in on Janus. The quietness of the surrounding neighbourhood let them indulge in the tinkling from an obviously homemade wind chime dangling above the porch.

“..... I was afraid you’d be disappointed in me.”, came Janus’ quiet admission under the warm sun rays that tickled his already partially dry skin, “Or worse. That you wouldn’t want me if I told you-”

“That’s ridiculous, Jan.”

Patton rarely interrupted anyone - purely out of politeness and the goodness of his heart - but he wouldn’t stand to hear his husband of eight years talk about himself that way, “If you keep talking bad about yourself I’m going to physically fight you.”

There was no bite to his words, but more a firm tone that settled Janus’ nerves somewhat.

“I suppose, but still. I understand that you’re most likely upset with me. I lied to you. And admittedly to Remus as well, but that’s-”

“I’m not upset.”

Pat gently caressed Janus’ rough cheek, paying his skin condition no mind as he reassured him, “I am a little disappointed.”, there’s the fatherly tone, “But none of this would ever be enough to make me leave you or anything if that’s what you were worried about. You’re stuck with me.”. Patton shot Janus a sunshine smile and the cutest blep he’d ever seen, to which the latter felt his heart positively melt, “And you’re stuck with a snake boy.”

The way Patton laughed ignited his bones and sent every nerve ending in his body soaring on high. By Gods, he loved him. Of course, Janus knew he loved Patton since they’d first met in their dreams - both being rather late to establish their connection at their early 20s - from the moment he’d laid eyes on him and heard the words, “Hey there! I’m sorry it took so long to meet you! I guess I was .... Patton-Pending!”. 

“Seriously, where’re all there snake jokes slithering their way out of?”

Janus held in a snort-laugh, “Ah, I used to own a pet snake in college. She escaped the first night I stayed in the dorms and caused a minor lockdown. Once I got her back, the nickname got spread around like wildfire thanks to Remus calling me Snake Face affectionately for months.”

Janus’ sigh screamed exhaustion, but his tone spoke of fondness. Patton chuckled sweetly, “At least he didn’t mean it in a mean way. Otherwise he’d be hiss-tory if I got a hold of him!”

Goddammit, Janus was weak for his husband’s awful puns. Stifling the belly laugh that wanted to break out of him in favour of a curt snort of amusement, “I can take care of myself, fangs you very much.”. Their mutual punning session went back and forth until a knock at the door behind them reminded the two that they weren’t at home. Virgil’s voice came from the other side of the door, 

“You both alright out there?”

Patton quickly called back, “Yep! We’ll be right back in a second!”

“Cool, I’m making hot cocoa, just lemme know how you like it once you’re done.”

Janus sighed and stood up. He already began to feel tense again, but Patton gently rose and took hold of his hands, 

“You should apologise to him, y’know. Remus, I mean.”, Patton clarified, “I know you noticed.”

Patton didn’t clarify further, he knew Janus knew what he meant. The way Remus had covered up how much what he’d said before hurt. Besides, he already had something to apologise to the eccentric trash rat for anyway so..

“I know. Can you keep Virgil company for me in the meantime?”

Patton nodded enthusiastically, “Of course! They promised to show me their tattoos later anyway!”

Janus wasn’t surprised his husband was enthralled by something so artsy, chuckling softly to himself as he and Patton rejoined the others only to walk in on the Dukes rather intensely making out just shy of the kitchen island. Patton averted his eyes while Janus rolled his and just cleared his throat undeterred. 

“I do hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

Just like this morning, Virgil nearly leapt out of their skin and embarrassedly ushered Remus out of the kitchen. Patton decided to swap in and help Virgil prep the drinks, while Janus sat with Remus in the living room once again.

“I owe you an apology, Remus.”, Janus took a deep breath in, “Actually, I owe you two.“

He hazarded a look at Remus, anticipating perhaps shock or surprise, but instead the human embodiment of a muscle cramp was trying to sit upside down on the sofa next to Janus. If he were honest, Janus was more disappointed in himself for not assuming Remus would be the same mangey gremlin he’d been used to.

“You’re aware I’m attempting to be serious?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re going to continue sitting like that?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you aware that talking to you is like attempting to win a game of “But Why?” with a three year old?” 

“Mhm!”

Janus massaged his temples and Remus, thankfully, relented. He didn’t remove himself from the seat and sit like a human being, he simply flicked Janus in the side.

“You act like I’m a bitch to talk to, but fucking hell, cutting the umbilical cord was less taxing than this.”

The snarky remark did get a chortle out of Janus, “Ah, then Remy’s..?“

“Yep! Fresh outta my insides!”, Remus cackled. Janus rolled his eyes. 

“Charming.”

“Nah, that’s my brother, I’m more….. the Demented type.”

“I’m aware,”, Janus retorted, “I remember having to drag you across campus to get your stomach pumped after the Everything Cocktail you downed at the annual Halloween Party.”

Remus let out a barking laugh and nearly slid off the sofa, “In my defense, the hot sauce, caramel, chicken strip, coffee, shrimp, marinara sauce, peanut butter, and six spoons of… was it horseradish or mayo?”

“Horseradish.”, Janus shuddered.

“That’s the bitch.”, Remus continued, “They weren’t so bad. The celery was what fucking sucked ass. And the carrots.”

Ah, the nostalgia. 

Granted, the trip down memory lane was the most wonderful mix of chaotic and bumpy, but the longer he took to address the issue, the worse Janus felt. He must’ve let his expression slip because Remus immediately stopped his rambling and finally let out a tired exhale,

“Listen, if what you said earlier is still eating at you like a piranha in your gut, then it’s fine. Really. I mean sure, it sucked cactus dick knowing you didn’t feel as serious about us as I did at the time, but-”

“It wasn’t true.”, Janus cut in, “What I’d said. I was trying to soften the impact, I suppose. You did and still honestly do mean a lot to me, Remus.”

There’s the shock he’d expected. Remus’ eyes were trained fully on Janus, waiting for a sign of deceit, but thankfully, he detected nothing.

“Huh. Cool.”

It was pretty lackluster, but Janus could tell Remus was glad. At least for now.

“Actually, I wouldn’t get too comfortable yet, I have another apology to issue. Or, I suppose, another lie to set right.”

Oh boy. Janus inhaled, he’d gotten this far. No backing out now.

“When we broke up, I told you it was simply because I didn’t want to date you anymore. Then the week after, my soulmate miraculously appeared in my dreams. But that was a two faced lie.”

Remus cocked his head to the side, wincing while he tried to shuffle around and get comfy due to his gravity defying seating arrangement.

“So…. what happened for real?”

Janus sighed, “.... The week before we broke up, I met him in my dreams. Patton just appeared, and I fell in love instantly. I… I felt awful. Like I was cheating on both of you-”

“Jan-”

“Please, Remus, let me finish.”

Remus sighed, crossing his arms, which looked rather comical when upside down.

“I know you and I always said there’d be no shame if the connection eventually happened to emerge, yet when I saw him there for the first time I just-”

“You felt guilty anyway.”

It was Janus’ turn to be surprised as Remus finally rolled off of the sofa to climb back on and sit… less like a cryptid.

“Same thing happened the first time I saw Virgil.”

Remus snickered at the further shocked expression Janus sported.

“Yeah, I know. Me, King Garbage, Lord of the Thots, no brains or remorse…. feeling guilty. But I get it. It’s really different the first time you see ‘em. Either way, you shouldn’t feel bad for feeling worried or being scared, Snake Face. Although it does hurt like a skewered ballsack that you lied to me about it though. So..”

In retaliation for such a heinous crime, Remus reached over and grabbed Janus’ fancy lil hat, and with a practiced ease that had his ex both enraged and astonished, ring tossed the thing through the small opening in the window, landing it in the small decorative bird bath just outside.

“...... Remus Duke, before I beat the everloving shit out of you for old times sakes,”, Janus uttered lowley, threatening but with a familiar fondness that reminded Remus of their days causing havoc on campus and speed bullshitting essays like it was their birthright, “I want you to know that that little stunt was incredibly impressive...”

--

Upstairs, oblivious to the conversation and scuffle their fathers were enthralled in, Remy and Emile had mostly been playing games, watching cartoons and chatting away together. They’d just put on some Adventure Time when Emile looked over at Remy, noting he was falling asleep. Emile considered trying to do the same to surprise him in their dream space when Remy jolted back awake.

“Oh shit, how long was I out babes?”

Emile shook his head, “Not long. Does… that happen often?”

“Like, all the time. My sleep cycle is a roulette wheel, I’m sure of it.”, Remy lamented, shuffling closer to Emile on the edge of the bed, carefully not to knock over his laptop.

“Do you think our parents are getting along? I’m gonna like, throw hands if they ruin things with their adult bullshit.”

Emile shyly shuffled closer, leaning his head upon Remy’s, who savoured the feel of the slightly taller boy’s coiled hair against his forehead. Downstairs, Emile could hear a scuffle alongside his Papa’s worried attempts to calm down whatever was happening, and began to recognise Virgil’s annoyed interjections. He wasn’t too distressed however; his father’s upbeat tone and what sounded like Remus’ maniacal cackle assured him there was probably nothing to be worried about.

“Something tells me they’re getting along just fine.”, Emile smiled brightly at Remy, “How about one more episode then we can go check?”

----

Hoooly shit this took ages.

I promise I’m workin to catch up, I’m gonna do this or die tryin’!! For small clarifications:

- Virgil is NB/Agender and uses They/Them

- Remus is a Trans Man and uses He/Him

I didn’t specify much for the other characters purely because I could see them being anywhere on the gender spectrum, they can be whatever you prefer to read them as.

I really dunno how well this one read if I’m honest, it just kept branching from cute Remile focused fic to Families’ First Meeting kinda thing???

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom 

[songbirdsingingthings]

Chapter Two - Calling All Callers!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

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Word Count: 3.5K

“Your Grace, I-” You sputtered, dipping into a small curtsy, trying to show your respect to the duke’s son. The red-and-white haired man simply raised a hand, waving off the courtesy to show no harm was done.

“There is no need, Miss… Yagi.” Shouto said hesitantly. You gave him a smile and nodded.

“It really is a pleasure to meet you, but I am curious, how do you know my brother?” You ask.

“He and I studied at UA together a couple of years ago.” Izuku commented, beaming at the two of you. A bright grin sprouted across your face.

“Oh, how lovely!” You enthused. “I’ve heard wonderful things from both the critics and Izuku about that institution, people say it’s one of the finest in the country.” This earns a slim smile to spread across Shouto’s face, so thin in fact, that if one weren’t looking specifically for it they would miss it. You just happened to catch it.

“Yes, it was certainly a rewarding experience - the professors there allow a great amount of knowledge to pass through their students.” Shouto’s voice was measured and direct, matching what he was wearing. It was a handsome grey velvet suit with small gold details on the cuffs and coattails, and he had a white cravat with matching gold features. 

“Curses, would you look at the time,” Izuku mutters, in his hand a pocket watch. “I’m terribly sorry to cut this introduction short, but it is time that Y/N and I must be departing.” You shoot your brother a bewildered look.

“But Brother, it is quite early,” You noted, wanting to continue the conversation the three of you were having.

“Under normal circumstances you are indeed correct, but I’m sure you would like to be well-rested for tomorrow morning.” He says, a somewhat shyness seeping into his voice. It then suddenly clicked for you - callers. It was custom that the morning following the first ball of the season, young men would be invited into the homes of the young ladies they had an interest in, often bringing along with them gifts.

“Ah, quite right,” you say softly, the daunting events of the next morning making you a little uneased. Out of a nervous habit, you pulled your silk gloves higher on your arms - even though they were at their highest - and sighed. “Your Grace, it was lovely to meet and converse with you this evening. I do hope you excuse our early departure,” You tell Shouto, genuine disappointment in his voice. Shouto simply nodded.

“Of course, Lady Yagi. It truly was a pleasure.” You cutsied with a simper and took Izuku’s arm.

“We must get together properly, how about you come to our club?” Izuku offers.

“Indeed, that would be nice.” Shouto confirms, a hand outstretched to shake your brother’s. From there you bid your adieu and followed Izuku back to where your father was located. The carriage ride home passed by a lot quicker than you would’ve thought, your mind running rampant with questions about the duke’s son.

“Up, up, up!” You whine as you hear Mei trill about. As soon as she pulls back the curtains, the offensive light shines into your eyes causing you to squint.

“What time is it,” you groan as you arch your back into a stretch. Mei rolls her eyes and gives you a grin.

“It is time for you to get up, Miss Yagi.” She replies. You frown as you hear her address you in such a formal way.

“Mei, I’ve told you before - please call me Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were little.” 

“And I hope you remember that when you marry some rich man,” she quips, earning a stuck out tongue from you. The two of you always were in sync when you were getting ready for the day. You slip into your chemise and moisturize your hands while Mei is behind you tightening the restricting corset around your torso. Then comes the dress. “Which one, Y/N.” Mei asks, making a point to emphasize your name. You give her a smirk and turn your attention to the dresses she was holding. One of them was a pretty pale pink and had a sheer lace pattern on top while the other was a sage green with a darker green satin bow tied around.

“I don’t know…” you mumble, closely inspecting both of them. You acknowledged that both of the colors and features presented a different attitude - while pink bore a more innocent approach to society, the sage green displayed a much more mature tone.

“Personally, I love both, but I think the sage green is your winner.” A deeper but still feminine voice filtered into your room from behind you. Recognizing it immediately, a wide grin spread across your face. You turned around to find your governess from when you were young, Nemuri Kayama.

“Mrs. Kayama!” You exclaim, rushing towards the woman and enveloping her in a hug. While your actions might’ve been seen as improper by most of the public, your relationship with your governess was far different than the norm. When Inko, your mother, died, Nemuri helped to pick up the pieces. She was your father’s friend from when they were younger - happening to live right next to each other. From the raw age of eleven, Nemuri became your mother-figure and governess, teaching you how to become an integral part of society but not be quieted and coddled. She taught you to be strong.

“Y/N my dear, it’s truly been too long since the last time I saw you.” She said earnestly, returning your tight hug. “But we are on a tight schedule today - callers will be coming any moment!” Nemuri exclaimed, leading you back to Mei. “Mei, it is wonderful to see you again.” Mei brightens at the raven-haired woman’s words and smiles. 

“It’s an honor, Mrs. Kayama! And to be clear, we are going with the sage green?” Mei questioned, holding up the pretty dress. With a simple but clear nod, Nemuri allowed space for Mei to help you into your dress as she went to grab something from the basket she carried. 

“Mei, before you do her hair, I have something,” She says, walking back over to you with something wrapped in tissue paper. “For you, my dear.” Nemuri places the wrapped gift in your hand. Daintily, you peeled back the layer to reveal a stunning hair comb. Detailed with gold plated flowers, the comb fit perfectly with your outfit - in the center of each group of petals were pearls.

“Mrs. Kayama…” you say, at a loss for words. Her hands work along with Mei’s as they style your hair into an updo, letting some of the front hairs stay down to make it look more effortless. Finally, Nemuri takes the comb from your hand and nestles it into your hair.

“It was my mother’s and it would be my greatest wish for you to have it.” She says, giving you a smile through your mirror.

“I couldn’t possibly-” you start.

“Y/N. I want you to have it. I have no children, nor will I ever, but I do have you.” Nemuri rests her hands lightly on your shoulders. You bring one of yours up to touch her’s, grabbing hold of it.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Yagi, I would encourage you to settle into the parlor soon, it’s almost 11 o’clock,” A maid said from around the corner. You quickly stood and slipped on your lacy gloves and looked back to both Mei and Nemuri for a final approval of your outfit. You were greeted with encouraging smiles - all you needed to scamper off down the stairs and into the parlor. Waiting there was both your father who was reading this morning’s newspaper.

“Sorry for being a bit tardy, I was catching up with Mrs. Kayama,” you explain, settling onto one of the pristine white couches that adorned the beautiful room. Originally designed and decorated by your late mother, it was full of everything she loved. From the powder pink walls to the white detailing, the beautiful chandelier that dangled from the ceiling, and the most comfortable but chic furniture, all of it seemed to scream ‘Inko’.

“That’s quite alright darling,” he says taking a sip of his tea.

“Is Izuku off with Lady Uraraka? I remember him mentioning that he wanted to take her to the sweets shop downtown,” You mention, smoothing out the folds of your dress.

“Actually, he is-” Your father begins but is cut off by the shuffling of feet. He simply waves the conversation off, signaling that the two of you would continue it later. You, however, were scrambling to your feet in order to look presentable. In walked two of your butlers, and behind them, a group of about five young men.

“Callers for Miss Yagi?” 

And with one sentence, those four little words, your afternoon was whirled into a twister. You felt flattered, of course, but some of the young men that called for you were just so… dull. Just like at the ball the previous night, Lord Ojirou was kind but boring - his conversation going in one ear and out the other. But, to be polite, you wore a kind smile and nodded when needed. Sir Koda was incredibly shy, so you had to take the reins on your chat. It wasn’t awful, in fact, he was a rather nice man to talk to. He was even so kind hearted as to bring you two white parakeets - a gift for giving him your time. Lord Kaibara and Lord Shoda were both nice enough, each bearing expensive flowers and boxes of sweets. And finally, you were onto the worst out of the bunch. You figured that the afternoon was going nicely, a bit too nicely. Then, of course, Lord Mineta had to walk on in. While he brought along a gift that was nice enough, a pair of sheer lace gloves, he was insufferable to converse with. You made eye contact with your father several times and knew that if he could kick the young lord out, he would, but for the sake of your family’s reputation he abstained. You suppressed a sigh as your conversation with Lord Mineta took quite a serious turn, already talking about a possible engagement between the two of you.

“Oh Miss Yagi, I can see it now - you and I, a large house in the midst of the city, about ten children-”

“Ten?!” You exclaim, a nervous smile on your face as you brought out your fan.

“But of course!” Your conversation with him continued down this unfortunate path but you chose to focus on the opening door behind him to reveal your brother. You let a breath of relief flow out from you as you saw his familiar face, but it soon morphed to one of curiosity, because behind him, was Shouto Todoroki. You registered Lord Mineta continuing to drone on but your eyes stayed on the duke’s son, watching his simple mannerisms as he followed Izuku to where your father was sitting. It only took another moment for the red-and-white haired man to return your gaze. It was like a fresh rain had descended upon you - a wave of solace seemed to wash over you as your eye-contact remained, finding comfort in his heterochromatic eyes. It was broken, however, when you felt someone’s hands on top of your gloved ones. Wrenching your head back quickly to the man, if you could even call him that, in front of you, you started to feel a light panic rise within you. What on Earth am I doing entertaining this guy? Like hell would I ever become engaged to a man like him, you thought.

“As I was saying, Lady Yagi, I was mentioning how it would be more than kind of you to join me to promenade tomorrow - perhaps noon?” Lord Mineta said, a sickening smirk spreading across his face. You glanced over at Shouto to see he was still looking at you and flashed him a look of desperation.

“I, umm, that is very kind of you Lord Mineta, however I find myself occupied tomorrow.” You say, trying to find any excuse to get out of the situation he hopes to find the two of you in.

“That is curious because I remember talking to the other callers you so selflessly entertained and they mentioned nothing about making plans with you,” Damn, he caught me in a lie. I am surely in for it now.

“That’s because I have made plans with Lady Yagi.” A cool tone graced the room and you turned your head to look up at the speaker. Shouto stood next to you and looked at Lord Mineta with indifference in his expression, but pure confidence flickered in his eyes.

“O-Of course Your Grace!” Lord Mineta stuttered, letting go of your hands. You quickly returned your hands to your side, accidentally brushing one across Shouto’s sleeve. “If you would excuse me, I have some business to attend to! Lovely, of course, to chat with you Miss Yagi.” He says and walks quickly out of the room. As soon as the doors were shut, you sighed with relief and turned to face Shouto.

“Thank you so much for helping me,” you confess, giving him a tired smile. “I don’t intend to be rude, but Lord Mineta was-”

“He was incredibly inappropriate and completely mindless.” He says. The bluntness of his words made you laugh, even causing you to bend over a bit.

“Nicely put, Your Grace.” You compliment, amusement still leaking from your voice. He gives you a small smile. “Were you and Izuku at our family’s club? I hope everything was to your satisfaction,” You comment, inviting him to take a seat next to you on the couch. He takes your offer and settles down beside you.

“It was very pleasant indeed, your family was kind enough to provide me with the finest of activities there.” He confirms. You grin and discard your gloves, wanting to rid Lord Mineta’s presence from your memory. You don’t realize, being too preoccupied with the lacy accessories, but his breath hitched a bit at your casual actions.

“I normally don’t get to go, it being a gentleman’s place and all,” you say as you arrange the gloves by your side, “but on special occasions when it’s closed I do love to go horseback riding there. The paths and roads there are always brimming with beauty.” You look back to him.

“Unfortunately I wasn’t able to partake in such recreations, perhaps I shall take a ride another time.” Shouto says.

“I’m sure my brother would love to take you, he absolutely adores his horse but don’t tell anyone I told you that.” You snicker, eyeing Izuku to make sure he wasn’t listening. It seemed to be that he was very absorbed in a conversation with your father, one that he started the moment he walked into the parlor.

“Well, if things go according to plan for Izuku, I do believe he will have less opportunities to give his time to his friends.” Shouto says, a warmer tone to his voice. It took a moment to connect the dots, but your face lit up when it did.

“Is he asking father to permit him to propose to Lady Uraraka?!” You whisper-squeal, your head drifting closer to Shouto’s.

“Indeed,” He whispers back, his smile beginning to widen.

“Well, if he’s too busy to accompany you, I wouldn’t mind doing so.” You say softly, your eyes flicking back to his. Noticing the not-so-far distance between the two of you, you lean back and blush. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, showing nothing to insinuate that he was uncomfortable.

“That would be nice, Miss Yagi.” You think a bit at how he addresses you and smiles.

“Please, Your Grace, call me Y/N. You see, whenever I do an activity with another whether it be picnicking, eating flavored ice, or horseback riding, I consider them my friend. And as my friend, I prefer to be called by my first name.” You say confidently. You can see Shouto clearly process your words and he in turn gives you a soft smile.

“If I am to call you Y/N, then if you wouldn’t mind, I would like you to call me Shouto.” For some reason, butterflies seemed to take flight in your chest when he said those words to you - like your soul had told you that this moment was one to remember.

“Alright then, Shouto.” You quip, a sly grin donning your face.

“How about tomorrow then?” He suggests quickly. You sit back, stunned a bit as his eagerness.

“Huh?” You say shocked.

“Well I did say that I had plans with you tomorrow,” His voice seemed to become a bit more shy as he explained himself, but still held steady. Recalling your interaction from earlier, you laugh a bit and nod.

“Yes, you certainly did. Tomorrow should do splendidly.” You assure him.

“Thank you Father! Thank you!” Your brother’s shouts of excitement pulled you from your conversation with the duke’s son and towards Izuku.

“What? What happened?” You stand up and rush over to your father and brother. Izuku seemed to have a sparkle in his eye, and wait, was that a tear?

“Tomorrow I will be proposing to Lady Uraraka.” He says breathlessly. You let out a shriek of excitement and wrap your arms around him, giving him a bone crushing hug.

“Izuku, that’s wonderful!” You shout with glee. The two of you spin around a bit and you were stationary enough to catch Shouto’s eye, a look of happiness spread across his face.

“Sorry, we can be kind of an energetic family,” You laugh, straightening your dress back out. He, to your surprise, chuckles.

“No, no, I’m not bothered by any means.” He replies. Shouto checks his pocket watch and sighs, regretfully looking back up to the three of you. “Unfortunately, I must be taking my leave. My father and I have some things to take care of, but Lady Yagi, I look forward to our sally tomorrow.” He says, tucking his pocket watch back into his coat.

“Y/N.” You emphasize. Shouto nods and smiles.

“Y/N.” He says, waving as he steps out of the parlor. As soon as it’s confirmed he exited your house, both your father and brother turned to you, expectant expressions on their faces. “What?” You ask, walking back over to fold up your gloves, handing them to a maid so that she could rush them to the washroom.

“Well, how were your callers?” Izuku asked. You roll your eyes and stretch your arms, feeling a little stiff after sitting for hours upon hours.

“They were… fine. Sir Koda was certainly nice to talk to and Lord Ojirou was, well, nice.” You realize that the two of them weren’t really satisfied with your responses, looking for more. “Really, that’s all I can say. None of them were that wondrous.” Your father hummed and closed his newspaper, standing up to rub a hand affectionately on your shoulder.

“You seemed quite friendly with the duke’s son,” he said, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Unwillingly, you felt your face heat up and try to temper it before it became apparent to the two men.

“Oh, Shouto? He is very polite and kind - the two of us are actually going riding tomorrow.” You say casually as you take a teacup from the table and take a sip of the chamomile that was sitting in it. You hummed at the taste, calmness running through your nerves.

“Shouto, huh?” Izuku said, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging you with his shoulders. You simply rolled your eyes and set the teacup back on its saucer.

“Izuku, you know my friendship policy,” you respond.

“So that was all you planned for? Being friends with him?” You father inquired, a genuine look of curiosity on his face.

“Well, yes, that was what I planned for. I wouldn’t mind it at all if he was my friend. In fact, I would like it very much.” You decide, a soft smile spreading across your face.

“Sis, I know that smile,” Izuku says, pointing a finger at your face.

“What smile am I wearing then?” You ask, raising a brow.

“It’s the same one when Father brought Lord Takami by when you were thirteen.” He says, smiling cockily. The blush on your face returned and you shook your head.

“You're being foolish,” you respond, gently pushing your brother away, earning grins and chuckles from your father and Izuku. While you tried to negate your feelings, you couldn’t help but let yourself admire Shouto - granted, it may be in a more, well, romantic way then you would’ve originally intended. However, that is probably not what he needed. He needed a friend to go horseback riding with and that was what you would be. For now.

A/N: In case any of you were confused, the reason why Shouto got so flustered when Y/N took of their gloves is because it was technically considered improper for women to physically touch a man whose not part of her family without wearing them. So, even though Y/N didn’t touch him, he was still a little shocked by her casual actions :) 

[bellamyblake]

The perfect sleeping arrangement

for @star-sky-earth

Alternate Universe-Canon divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Mommy!Kink, Nightmares, Anxiety Disorder

Bellamy always tries to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders but at night he's breaking apart-anxiety and nightmares are tearing him up, yet he won't let Clarke take care of him. Unless she insists and he starts opening up to her. 

The only time Bellamy ever allowed Clarke to take care of him was at night.

During the day it was all about him doing everything he possibly could-going hunting, passing by medbay to bring her lunch, toss a scarf over her naked neck so she doesn’t get sick, ask her mom if she got anything for breakfast over her rolling eyes, make sure she comes back home before ten even though there’s a council meeting that night that he won’t attend because of his guard shift.

And it wasn’t just about her really-still, two years after they set their camp and started actually building it, he was taking care of the hundred as if they were his own children just like when they first landed-he brought Jasper a new jacket, fixed the roof of the co-joined cabin that Harper, Monty, Miller and a few other kids used, made sure to raid long-forgotten bunkers for winter supplies, participated in the shoveling of the snow, smoaking the meat from the game he had caught, helping Raven with the electricity solutions she needed figuring out as well as taking up as many guard shifts as he could especially during the winter when it was harder for the delinquents.

He even volunteered once a week in the small day care they opened last fall, reading books and telling stories to the kids in the midst of giving them a few history lessons here and there.

Overall he was stretching himself a little too thin and Clarke hated it even though whenever they fought about it, he always made sure to remind her that she’s no better than him.

And that may have been true but the thing was, he refused to let anyone ever take care of him, even her.

Even though he made sure she was fine all the damn time and it was the little things that broke her-him making her tea in the evening, bringing her hot water for her freezing feet and making sure she warmed up after her enthusiastic run in the back yard when the first snow hit, him tucking her up at night even when she kicked the blanket or finding the right kind of animal skin so he would sew her gloves for the winter.

He had even learned how to knit from a grounder woman during the summer festival and when they got back to camp he secretly traded a few sweaters for some yarn, only to start working on a beautiful blue scarf for her that he wrapped around her once the first winter days arrived.

It was great being with Bellamy but it was also heartbreaking, watching him give all of himself away and never expect anything in return.

Even when they kissed or had sex he always made sure she’s came first, always made sure to show her just how much he loved her, whispering words about her beautiful body in her ear as he teased her clit and bring her over the edge.

But when Clarke wanted to do the same, he’d try to get away, refusing the attention.

Some mornings she’d feel his hard cock against her butt and reach over to take him, turn around and kiss him, try to give him a good time but he’d kiss her forehead, mumble something like “I’m fine, princess, have to get to work, maybe some other time.” and slip away leaving her angry and sad that he just denied himself pleasure.

She knew why he did it, she had seen it from the moment back at that tree on their unfortunate day trip-he didn’t think he deserved it even though she had tried to make it known, even though she always made sure to show him how much he means to her, how much she loves him-but it wasn’t about that, it has never been about that-the fact remained-he didn’t believe he was worthy of being loved, of pleasure, even when it came from the person he cared for most in the world and who cared for him just as much in return.

The thing was, he tried to hide his problems away from her as well and that had been the last straw to turn things around.

At first it was his inability to sleep because of anxiety-he had a few days or even a week sometimes every month when he couldn’t sleep-nightmares plagued him and left him weak and exhausted but he would try to hide it from her at first until one night she came home and found him so tired that he had passed out by the hearth, having only just started the fire.

She can't even move him no matter how hard she wants to. She kneels down, puts her hands under his armpits and tries but he's so heavy. On top of everything he's all wet from the snow-his jacket's peppered with fastly melting snowflakes, his hair was drenched-the curls stuck to his forehead, he was freezing and she knew his boots leaked too, so she had to get him out of it and warm him up.

”Come on, Bell, wake up, let's get you to bed.” and he manages to wake up, get to a half-awake state but he's so out of it, like a drunk five year old who had absolutely no idea what was happening to him.

”C-larke?”

“Yeah, come on, please I can't lift you on my own."

“I'm tired.” he mumbles.

“I know, but you need to get to bed.”

“Why?”

“Because it's cold out here you'll get sick”

“I'm fine...it's by the fire...just...leave me”

“No, I’m not leaving you, come on, please.” she’s desperate at that point, feels her own tears picking up at her eyes.

“It's okay, I like it here.”

“It's the wooden floor, your back already hurts, it's time for bed, please help me, please,” he groans a little, too tired to even lift his head and look at her but then she adds “for me.”

And that does it.

He manages to lift his feet just a little so she can drag him to bed and spray him diagonally at first, then she starts undressing him slowly, he's moaning everything hurts him-he's absolutely exhausted, tired to his very bone, hadn't slept in days, worked all through it too on top of it.

He's a baby when she undresses him he goes “I’m cold.”  when he doesn't have clothes on or “Ohh, my feet!”  when she takes his boots off and finds his blisters.

She’s pretty sure he’s only ever saying that because he’s not coherent of anything happening around him and he’s just a child speaking his mind.

It wasn’t just a one time deal, though-it kept happening and it worsened significantly with the change of the seasons-when winter settled he got bad, really damn bad and his anxiety made him jumpy, sad and insomniac.

In the spring it was a little better but still quite hard and the hot summer nights would throw him into another nightmare spiral that could last a month and leave him absolutely exhausted until the autumn winds hit and allowed him to breathe somewhat.

She takes him to Jackson when she comes home one night to find him passed out in his work clothes again. This time he's too tired to fully wake so she has to pile the blankets and pillows on the floor and sleep with him there to make sure he's warm enough.

Clarke figures out quickly that he loves being spooned, held, kissed-he groaned content when she ran her fungers through his hair-he liked being warm but he didn’t wear clothes in bed except for his boxers and he enjoyed most of all when she tucked him in first after taking all of his clothes and then sliding in bed, wrapping herself like a monkey around him and holding him tight.

Jackson had prescribed him some anxiety meds but after talking to some grounders at the summer Polis trade between clans, Clarke found herbs they could use to brew as a tea for him to drink.

It didn’t always do the job but it helped significantly.

Still, she figured out he had a need for her late at night in those vulnerable moments and the more they occured, the more he allowed himself to be like this despite the constant battle in his heart.

He liked being pampered, liked her momming him, taking care of him like that.

But there was still something that tips the scales and it comes from the most unexpected places of all.

Second year around when the camp is up and running, all of them have to go through the mandatory health check ups.

Of course, Bellamy had tried to get away with his, sneak out but Clarke had grabbed him by the collar-literally and dragged him there for his mom to do it, knowing if it was her, they probably would end up with her pinned on the cot, him on top, pushing into her, instead of her taking in his pulse.

And that’s when it happens-her mom takes in his blood pressure and finds it too high, listens to his heart carefully and furrows her eyebrows as she focuses. Clarke feels the cold spread through her from her back through her entire body when her mom tells them things are out of norm but that if he takes some blood pressure medicine to regulate it, everything will be alright.

Clarke hates herself for it though-she should’ve noticed it sooner. She always let herself be held by him and she had noticed, as she rest her head over his chest, that his heart beat too fast but she thought it was just him being too tired or maybe the anxiety was making it worse for him but she never once thought something could be wrong.

That’s when things changed and she refused to let him get away with being taken care of anymore.

His heart beat became her good night lullaby.

During the day he was still Bellamy the guard, Bellamy the hunter, Bellamy the protector of his silly kids starting with Jasper, Bellamy the love of her life who brought her lunch.

But at night things shifted.

He’d sit in bed and wait for her to come out of the bathroom.

“Took your anxiety meds?” he nods seriously “The blood pressure ones?”

“Yep.”

“You sure?” he had  stupid phase where he tried not to take them for a few weeks so they could save recources and ration them and she hadn’t talked to him for days after.

“I’m sure, Clarke.”

“Good boy.” she praises as she comes over “Time for bed now.” she lays him down covers him up and he looks at her with big brown beautiful eyes.

”You coming?”

“Right in, you big baby.” she promises as she leans over and kisses his forehead.

“Can you hold me?” he’s learned to ask for that with time and she had made sure to show him how proud she was of it.

“Of course.” she tucks him in and then quickly slides in on the other side of bed, wrapping herself around him, her arm over his chest and leg thrown over his. Her other one sneaks under his neck and she pushes his head to her chest so that he’s a little lower than her and her chin cover his head. That way she had quick access to his hair and she runs her fingers through his curls gently, helping him relax.

Because at night she sleeps deep, she doesn’t always hear when he wakes up from his nightmares or terrors and the only thing betraying him would be the dark circles under his eyes in the morning, so she has to ask every night how the previous one had been because only then would he be honest.

“How was last night?” he knows the question will come so he shivers a little as she holds him.

“Not too bad.”

“How many times did you wake up?”

“Once” he lies. She tightens her grip on his chest.

“Your shirt was soaked, Bell.” he shrugs and closes his eyes but she insists ”So? How many times?”

“Three.” he lets out quietly and she wraps herself tighter around him

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

“You know I can't.” she knew he wouldn’t, he never did. Unless she was there to scold him and force him to lay still while she took care of him after a night terror, he wouldn’t say a thing.

He had admitted once that he would wake up gasping for breath but force himself not to move too much and instead just stare at the ceiling while he calmed down so he wouldn’t wake her up.

She hated it. She hated whatever made him hate himself so much that he’d refuse to reach out even to her.

She knew it was about the way he was raised-his mom loved him according to his words and fond memories of her, but she was stern and had expectations for him especially after Octavia was born when the real hell began.

He had anxiety then too, night terrors as well, he may have developed this heart condition just because of the constant stress he was put under, he just had no way of knowing it.

One night as she was holding him he admitted he wouldn’t sleep at night after O was born, he’d check on her and his mom all the time, then sleep by the door when they knew there would be random check ups in Factory.

He’d fall off his bed as he tossed in his nightmare sleep, he’d shake all the time, grow restless or too tired, get angry sometimes-all signs of what he was still suffering from now.

Something else that happened lately as she came to find out-because he was so exhausted from his lack of sleep, he’d take short naps in hiding, away from her, so he wouldn’t bother her with his pain.

He’d go to the small overhang they had in the backyard where they kept the woods and sleep there and she’d hate it when he did that because it was so cold there she worried he’d get sick or he'd hide out in the kitchen while Murphy prepared dinner after bringing in the game he caught with the hunting party outside. He'd even spray on one of the metal tables at Raven and Monty's tent where they discussed plans for the camp.

So she knows, comes to figure out that spooning him and holding him helped a lot so all of this didn't have to happen. So he wouldn't have to hide away.

But something else did too.

Clarke would ask him if he’s okay, if she could do something else besides holding him but he’d of course shake his head and grumple a soft childish “I’m fine.”

She’d know better do, could always tell by the way he folds into her if he’s more vulnerable than usual, if it’s worse that night than the previous from the way his hands tremble or how he pushes his head into her hand looking for her touch.

In those nights, like tonight, she slides her hand down to hix boxers, digs in and pumps his cock to hardness.

He gasps a little, pushes his back into hers and looks up, searching for her eyes.

He doesn't want her to worry so much, so he tries to tell her it's okay but she wouldn't hear it and she jerks him off like this from behind. She knew exactly how he liked it by now-starting slowly, teasingly from the tip of his cock before sliding all the way down and cupping his balls for a moment before taking him in again.

His legs kick off the blanket just a little, he arches his back and she reins him in, calms him down, by kissing him softly, starting from his cheek, to his chin, sliding down to his neck, peppering him with her love, making sure to pay attention to all the freckles she sees in her way.

Her other hand is still in his hair-tucking at his curls, moving his head just the right way to expose more of him to her, give her a better angle as he gasps into her arms and calls for her untill he comes gasping, head buried in her chest, begging to be held, tighter, to be cuddled.

Finally, she lets him roll over when he's spent and he buries his head in her chest.

Clarke knows what he wants.

He loved sucking her tits after a good blowjob like this but she teases him a little like a boy who wants to be fed in the middle of the night but his mom's sleeping.

Bellamy buries his nose between her tits, breathes her in, lets her run her fingers through his curls, soft talk him, baby him until his quiet moans turn to desperate ones and he starts sucking, searching for her through her thin shirt.

“So impatient.”  she jokes “You want some of that big boy?”

He whines, writhes against her just a bit, searching for more like a desperate hungry kid.

“What's up?” she runs her fingers through his hair once more while he keeps trying to bury deeper into her, probably hating the fact that she decided to wear a shirt tonight but it was winter and she was cold. “You hungry?”

He groans, buries his head even closer, searches for her nipple but can't find it through the awful angle that her tits are in now that she’s laying on her side “Want me to lift that up for you?” she asks grabbing the hem of her shirt that is in fact one of his “Want to suck on mom's tits?”

He looks up then, moves away a little and she wants to laugh at how cute and adorable he is-his mouth hanging a little, saliva drooling on his chin from his desperate attempts to get to her tits.

He gives her a soft hurt look, his eyes so lost and desperate, the barest of nods and she just can't deny him when he does that-he’s so sweet, so gentle, so broken.

And so exhausted.

“Maybe this will help him fall into a fitful sleep.” Clarke thinks as she cups his cheek and runs her thumb over the dark circle under his eye.

He's so tired, it's the absolute picture perfect of a boy turned baby needing his mom and a hungry for his partner man.

She can’t handle it, would be lying if this wasn’t doing things to her too, so she raises herself up just a little and pulls her shirt off.

His reaction is immideate, he doesn’t even wait for her to fully lay back down when he takes the nipple of her right breast in his mouth and sucks on it hard.

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her up closer to him, wants to feel all of her pressed to his body, needs to have her there with him.

He doesn't just kiss her he sucks on her like a baby that's expecting for milk to come and it leaves her gasping and thrusting into his leg at the feel of her own wetness pooling into her but it is him that breaks her heart- he's so desperate for love and affection it's absolutely devastating for her.

It's noisy, he's smacking on her like a hungry baby and he's beautiful, so damn beautiful.

But he also never forgets about her-he sneaks his hand down to her ass and squeezes it, which makes her panties drench with her wetness and she grinds a little into him but she doesn't need release-this is about him, just him.

He gets a little hard again but it's not about that either now-he just wants to suck on her breasts and move his hands down her ass then up her back, then to her stomach-he loves touching her stomach, the softness there, the round curves that make her arch her back a little, makes her moan above him, reach out and put her hand on his shoulders, looking for something to support her.

Then he goes down to her panties, sinks in a finger into her making her gasp as he moves to her other breast, smacking just as hard, desperate for her beautiful breasts, desperate to beheld in her arms, to be vulnerable around her but also to love her, to let it pour out of him in any way possible.

And when he's had enough of touching her he brings his fingers up, pulls away for just a moment so he could spread her wetness around her nipple before sucking onto it hard again.

“Bellamy-” she gasps and he moves away from her nipple for just a second, peppers her chest with soft little kisses, moves to the valley of her breasts, drags his tongue there before sucking onto the skin just above her right breast and pulling her closer to him by the waist.

“Bell-”

He moves away a little, looks up at her asking if he did something wrong, worrying like always but she just takes his face in her hands and pulls him in for a kiss. She’s as desperate to have him as he is her but Clarke knows this is about him, so after she lets him go they just pant a little, breathe with hurry and desperation after their recent endeavours.

Her hand falls to his chest, his fast beating heart and she wants to command it to slow down.

“Ready to fall now?” she asks and he sneaks a glance down to her chest again before he looks right up, not daring speak out his desires but trying to silently ask for them anyway.

Without words.

He could never speak for himself.

But she would.

“You can take one if you want to.” she prompts him gently tugging at his neck and pushing him back to her chest.

“You don’t mind?” he asks and his voice comes out too small, too scared for her liking.

Clarke hurries to shake her head.

“In fact I love it.” he tilts his head a little as if asking “Really?” and she smiles “I love having you so close at night.”

HIs head falls and he looks down for a minute, accepting her answer, but trying to gather up the courage to ask something else.

“Will you still hold me?”

“Of course I will.” she promises and he smiles, beams really in a way she rarely sees on him which makes her sad because he should be like this all the time.

He quiets down after but not before slipping his hand back in her pants and sinking three fingers into her again, it's like he just wanted to be there, always, being the Bellamy that he is, to always give in return.

She grinds a little into him, he pumps her some but then they settle.

She watches him, cups his cheek runs her hand through his curly bangs smiles and kisses his forehead.

He gets a little shy like what he wants of her is too much, too weird maybe but she confirms again with a little nod that says ”It's okay, you can go ahead” and he wraps his mouth around her nipple again and smacks like a baby until finally he quiets and they fall asleep like this-his fingers in her and his mouth on her-the perfect sleeping arrangement.

[stardancerluv]

I’ll Always Catch You

Summary: What if you randomly met Roman?

Arthor’s note: Alot of angst is ahead! This is a bit long! I didn’t want to stretch this out. This story, has another ending. If there is enough curiousity about it perhaps I will post it.

After a long day at work, you had agreed to meet your friends out for drinks. It had been ages since you did that. So you got all dolled up and headed out.

You were relieved to discover that the Black Mask had tables. So you grabbed one. You ordered a drink.

You watched as people met up with others. Giggles and smiles were shared. Toasts were made. You eyed the time, you left messages. Nothing.

On drink number two, you got up and danced to a few songs. The music was fantastic, the signer was amazing.

Out of breath, but determined to not let the lack of messages back ruin your night, you went back to people watching.

You were fanning yourself, when someone a man in a flawless, white suit walked past your table. The sight of him alone, made you finish what was left of your second drink.

He had a strong jaw line, raven black hair and blue eyes that would slice you in half if you were caught by them.

You were checking your messages, when a waiter came by with a third drink.

You held up a hand, “Oh! I didn’t order that.” Drinks were very good but very expensive. You had debated on where you should get a third.

“It’s on the house.” The waiter smiled, put out a cloth coaster and put the drink on it. “Enjoy.” They smiled brightly and walked away.

You looked around. Wondering who could have possibly ordered a drink for you of all people.

You didn’t see anyone who caught your eye, except the man in white. He appeared to be in a serious conversation. His gloved hands were gesturing as if to stress something, very important or at least that is what it looked like.

You hoped distantly, his night had not been ruined. As you took a sip of the drink you didn’t know why you cared but you did. Perhaps, it was because he was so handsome.

Holding your glass, the cloth coaster, intrigued you. You didn’t want to just put the glass down, so you grabbed one of the plain paper ones that remained on the table, then you put it down.

Picking up the cloth one, you looked at it closer. A very elegant set of initials were sewn into the fabric. At least that is what you assumed they were. The thread was a brilliant shade of gold thread accented with black thread. In an opposite corner, in just as elegant script but only in black, was the name of the club. This was wonderfully elaborate and beautiful coaster. You’d expect that it belong in the vip lounge, not to be served to you, who had only ordered two little drinks.

Putting it down, you reached and put your glass back on it. Sitting back, you oddly felt amused. Tickled actually. Made you feel special. A smile even curled your lips.

“I was hoping, I’d finally see a smile on that face.”

Startled, you looked in the direction of the voice. You could not, stop from gasping. “Hello.” You immediately sat up straighter.

The word twisted in your mouth. It brought an easy smile from him.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, I mean I had walked by earlier.”

“Well, that was earlier and before I started my third drink.” You said without any hesitation, immediately you mentally kicked yourself for sounding so stupid.

“We do make them a strong here.” He gestured to the spot opposite you in the booth. “May I?”

“Sure, please.” Butterflies, began to flap in your stomach. What had he meant by we, you were amused watching as he easily sat down.

He glanced around and gestured. The waiter was back in a breath. “I’ll have another.”

“Certainly, Mr. Sionis.” They smiled and nodded.

They looked at you, you shook your head. Words, were a jumble in your mouth as it dawned on you who had just sat down with you

He looked back at you. “I couldn’t help but notice, you’ve been alone all night. Why?”

You took a sip of your drink, grateful your hand didn’t shake. “My friends never showed.” Once you began speaking, you discovered it was easier then you had thought. “And honestly, I didn’t want to leave.” You looked around smiling, then leaned forward “This place is great.”

The drink arrived with the same cloth coaster you nodded. You watched him nod and take a sip.

“Thank you. I strive to make this the best place in Gotham.” An air of something, confidence not exactly smugness splashed across his face.

“I haven’t tried the food yet, but the drinks and entertainment, are spot on.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Oh I’m good.”

He smirked. “You sure not even an appetizer?” He cocked up an eyebrow.

“Only, if you share it.” You don’t know what compelled you to say it but you did.

“Alright. I don’t usually eat down here in the club but for you, I’ll make an exception.” He gestured. Once again the waiter came right over. “Would you like me to order?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

His voice grew hushed then but waiter was happily nodding then fluttered away.

“I am sure you will enjoy what I chose.”

The buterflies were still flapping in your stomach but you were finally enjoying yourself.

You took a sip of your drink. “Did you have a good meeting earlier?”

A small smile came to his lips. “You noticed?”

You shrugged. “The way you gestured, it looked important.” You hope you didn’t over reach.

“It did.”

The food came then, your eyes grew. The two dishes looked exquisite. “Appetizers?” Looked over at him.

He shrugged. “Just a little taste.”

Sometime later, admittedly it was a little rough eating in his presence, since you were so nervous. You knew this was silly but you enjoyed it all. You were about to thank him, when the waiter eagerly took you plates and replaced them with little tarts.

“Dessert, too?”

He shrugged. “I like to go all out.”

“Well, you achieve what you strive for. This has turned out to be far better then I could have ever expected.”

“Good.”

You smiled, as you finished the last of the tart. “That was far too good. The next time I come, I will have to have another.”

“It is a favorite.” He ate the last piece of his own.

Your smile dropped, as you saw behind him the arrival of your very drunk looking friends.

He looked behind him and back at you. “What?”

You pressed your lips together. “My friends, my very drunk friends have finally arrived.” You finished your drink.

“Oh.” He scooted out of the booth, grabbing his glass. “I hope you will have even more fun now.” With that he walked away.

They were loud and giggling and gave incredibly sloppy hugs. Lots of apologies were exchanged. You were already bored with them but you smiled and played nice.

The waiter came back and with flourish placed a cloth coaster, a glass of champagne in front of you.

“Thank you.” Looking around you spotted him across the club. You mouthed a thank you. He held up his glass and nodded.

Which for a moment, silenced the buzz of your friends but that didn’t last long.

*******

You honestly, don’t know where the time had gone. Some four months later, you finally returned to the Black Mask club. This time, you did not have plans to meet your friends.

Once seated you took it all in. Like before, everything was such a feast for the senses. It wasn’t long before a tart was delivered. Smiling, you looked around.

There he was. This time he was in an equally sharp looking suit but this time it was blue. You watched as, what looked like a forced smile was plastered across his face and it disappeared almost as fast as it appeared. It made a pang go through you. That meeting must have not gone well. You looked back at your tart.

A glass being placed on your table filled your ears. “Thank you.”

“Darling, that was my drink.” A soft, rich chuckle came from him.

“Oh!” You looked up smiling. “Hello.”

A softer, broader smile spread across his face. “Welcome, back. It’s been awhile.”

You grimaced. “Life and work got in the way.”

He shook his head. “You need you to take care of yourself. Nothing, should ever be so serious that it keeps you away from things you enjoy.” A mischievous glint lit up his eyes, making your butterflies, appear and flap for their lives in your stomach. “Especially, when it comes to those tarts.”

You giggled. “You’re right. I missed them terribly.”

He exhaled, you watched as his gloved hand formed a fist. That’s when heard before seeing, the infamous Harley Quinn, dancing or humping, you couldn’t decide which on one the poles.

“Apparently, someone likes to make a scene.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you join me for a tart?” You hoped he’d join you like he had that one night.

“Sure, give me...”

A scream tore through the club silencing it instantly.

His attention snapped to it. Harley did something. She sat smugly on one of the sofas, as a man was writhing and screaming at her. Roman, left his glass on the table as he immediately garnered the attention of everyone. The man was silently whisked away.

A random person, stopped on the way to bar. “Get your free shot!”

“I’ll be right up.” You weren’t leaving. This was horrible.

Roman, flushed. His cheeks were scarlet in his apparent anger as he came back to your table. He drained his drink.

“Dreams are for naught.” He glanced at you. His blue eyes were far away. “Have a good night.”

Your annoyance towards Harley Quinn began that night. It started as a tight knot in the pit of your stomach.

*****

You cheek rested in your hand, you were bored to tears at work. Looking, at your knick knacks, and even some of the post cards; were not helping.

“Y/F/N, this just arrived for you.”

You looked up at as the secretary to the office, came over to your cubical. You mood lifted a little. You took the envelop from their hands.

You smiled when you saw the script, you knew immediately who it was from. You swirled in your seat. Your heart picked up speed, your fingertips tingled. Taking a breath, you gently opened the envelop, seeing the gold inlay your eyes grew. It was lovely. You pulled out the heavy black paper.

Hello Y/N,

I would enjoy it very much if you were to be my personal guest tonight at the Black Mask.

I will have a cocktail and a tart waiting for you. I look forward to seeing you at seven o’clock sharp.

Yours,

Roman Sionis

You did a little happy dance in your chair.

******

Not only did you wore a new dress but you, styled your hair as well. You wanted to look as good as possible.

Outside, of the Black Mask you stopped and gathered your breath. In all of these months of getting to know Roman, this was the first time he personally sent an invitation.

With your head held high you went in. A hostess, this time seeing you escorted you to a table. “Thank you.” You whispered. You shook gently, as the butterflies took flight.

“Hello, Y/N.” You smiled when you saw it was the man with white hair. He seemed to to be his confidant. The two of you had never been formally introduced.

“Yes, I mean hello.” You blushed and smiled.

“I will tell Roman you’re here.”

You smoothed your dress more times then you cared to admit. A waitress, came by with your drink. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Would you like your tart now or would you like to wait?”

“I’ll wait.” She nodded and smiling, she left. You took a sip of your drink. Nervously, your fiddled with the little plastic sword that held your three cherries.

“Oh, now look at you.”

You looked up at the rich deep voice that always caused your heart to beat harder. And it certainly beat harder, he had dressed in black and gold as well.

He offered a hand. “Allow me you see all of you.”

You could feel as heat raise in your cheeks. You took his gloved hand as you slid from behind the table. Once you were free of the table, he twirled you. When he stopped, you were against him. One of your hands came to rest gently on his chest, his magnificent black and gold suit jacket looked even better up close and one of his arms was around your waist holding you to him.

He smiled down at you. “I caught you.” His face was inches from yours.

“You have a habit of doing that.”

The rest of the club faded away. All you saw was his dark blue eyes, the waves of his black hair and soft expression his mouth had taken.

“I hope I always can.” He swallowed, his face moved closer and then he stopped. “Shall we sit?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Neither of you moved. “I had better let you go.”

His arm finally loosen and you, slid back behind the table.

Smoothing, his jacket and unbuttoning it he slid in. He patted the space beside him. “Don’t sit so far away.”

Flushing you moved back so now, you were beside him. He patted your thigh, “Much better.” He smiled, and his hand came to rest on your thigh when waitress walked up with his drink.

You barely noticed her looking your way. “Would you like your tart now?”

He squeezed your thigh, as he looked between the two of you. His smiled curled to the one side. “Yes, I believe she would. Right, Y/N?”

Hearing him, distracted you from the feel of his hand on your thigh. “Oh? Yes, yes please.” You smiled and nervously you took a sip of your drink.

Once the waitress was gone, he dragged his hand away and took a hold of his own drink. In a very short time, once again the conversation between the two of you flowed very easily. You shared a few laughs and smiles as he shared about a few good meetings and you shared how the office secretary had grown intrigued with the note he sent.

He gave you a side long smile before he had taken another sip of his drink. “So are you now the talk of the office?”

You shrugged, smiling. “I could be, I’ll find out tomorrow.”

The waitress showed up with your tart then. “Thank you.” You smiled and soon, dug in.

“So I was thinking, I can really build something.”

You smiled at him sweetly. It was great to see how his eyes were so alit with happiness.

“It’s a great club...” The man walked up then and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder. His gestures grew with his excitement.

It was never good when he could come over and interrupted your time together. Looking, away you focused on your tart.

“Harley Quinn, has the diamond.” Roman’s hand found your thigh and squeezed. It was so sudden you, swallowed the entire pice of tart you just took.

“And?”

You tried to not pay attention, it was none of your business.

You could barely hear him as he whispered to Roman. “And they disappeared.”

“Fuck!” Roman barked. His hand flew from your thigh, first banging hard into the table making your plate shake. “Fuck!” He barked again as his fist met the table.

You felt as his breathing shallowed with his anger that gripped him. The club, had already silenced with his outburst.

Something horrible had gone down. In the dead silence, where you could have sworn you heard your own heart beat, laughter rang out.

His entire body tightened. “Who is she laughing at?” His voice rasped out. In a smooth move, he left your side.

Sadness with icy fingers wrapped around your heart.

“Is she laughing at me?”

“She is.”

You could not believe what you heard him say to Roman. Why was he lying. You tried to grab Roman’s arm. “No, she’s not. She’s....” he was across the room in no time.

You closed your eyes and frowned, why had he lied to Roman. You tried to look away, and you did for most of it. Your poured out to him. You k know it shouldn’t you didn’t think he could ever be that cruel. That wasn’t the man you knew. His right hand man pushed him, something happened and he just made it worse.

You could get up, go to the ladies room and freshen up. You could come back and perhaps, if he thought you had not seen anything things could be ok. You just didn’t know anymore.

Taking a breath, you got up. You were about to walk away, when a hand grabbed your arm.

Turning, you saw Roman’s anguished face and your heart went out to him. Tears filled your eyes. “Where are you going ?” His voice was hoarse.

“I’m, I was going to ladies room.” To managed to stutter out.

“No, no I want you to stay here with me close.” He pulled you to him.

Easily, you wilted in his arms. You were all a jumble. What he did was horrible but you knew it really wasn’t his fault but it hurt seeing him like that.

“You soothe, me.” He pulled back, his blue eyes were filled with remorse and sadness.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You voice shook and as you swallowed the tears back.

“Good.” He continued to move, dance with you.

*****

The following evening, you found yourself walking along the broken founder’s pier. It was a cold and foggy night. Despite how broken it was and how fallen to ruin it was you continued down it.

You really had to collect yourself. You were still completely shattered at what you had seen. Roman, could have the occasional angry outburst. You knew, never to mention his family, they had done him wrong and he pulled himself up and made something of himself.

But what you saw, it shook you. It must have by really been bad what Harley did in order for him to snap like that. You leaned against one of the steadier looking railings.

As a child, your dad had taken you there. He showed you all the founders of Gotham, you still knew them all their names. It used to be a beautiful pier when you were a child.

With a faint smile on your lips, you remembered how one time, you had climbed onto the railing and walked along it. Upon seeing you do it though, your dad panicked. That’s when you had wavered in your confidence. But he caught you, and you clung onto him relieved you had not ended up in ocean.

Screams sliced through the night. You looked in the direction of them. You don’t know why, but you ran toward them.

As you got closer, you could have swear you made out three figures. Two of which were hunched over.

“I’m Harley Fucking Quinn.”

A gunshot exploded in the night. That’s when you saw Roman, and you saw this young girl. Everyone, stopped and looked at you. His grip on the girl loosened but she caught your eye, you don’t know what compelled you but you ran towards her and him. “No!!!!” The words burst from your mouth.

You felt as your foot caught but as it did you somehow managed to reach and you contact with her. You reached, and contacted with her. She let out a scream as she began to fall backwards over the railing, your foot loosened at the last minute and you couldn’t stop. Everything, felt like it slowed down.

Just then arm wrapped and it slammed you down and found yourself looking up at the stars. “I’ll never let you fall.” His raspy voice filled your ear, you smiled despite everything. You felt safe.

A breath later and an explosion, rocked your entire world, no hesitation you clung on to him. You both looked.

“Hey, kid Are you ok?” Harley’s screechy voice hollered. You looked at Roman, but you barely saw him shock, instincts over taking you. The two of you crept and looked over the railing.

“Hey kid!”

“There!” You pointed. You saw someone flopping around in the water. “There.”

“I’m here.” A weak voice traveled up to all of you.

“I’m coming kid.” She looked at the two of you. “This isn’t over Romy.” She said through gritted teeth.

“It never is.” He replied, sounding more tired then anything else.

You watched as her golden overalls faded and obscured into the darkness. Her distant screams were met with others.

As one still slumped backwards, the aging wood creaked underneath the two of you. Distant and indistinct voices traveled up to where the two of you remained.

“We better get out of here.” He finally said.

“Yes.”

******

Neither of you spoke, you simply just numbly followed him up in the elevator. You barely looked around as you found yourself in his penthouse.

With your head finally clearing, you met his eyes and took the wash cloth from him. He sat down on the rim of a very large bathtub. You were washing the blood off his face. It was not long, before the man you had grown to care about. He inhaled sharply when you discovered the cuts.

Gently, he took the washcloth from your hands, “I should clean...” Your voice trailed off as he shook his head.

“They can wait.” His voice, was scratchy. It was as rough as he looked, which broke your heart. “I thought that first night, I could rescue you.” He swallowed. “But tonight, you saved my worthless life.”

The tears that wouldn’t come earlier, finally came. “You’re not worthless.” He looked away. “Hey, you saved me, too.” His eyes met yours but they were as turbulent as an ocean.

“I can’t excuse anything I did or I may do now that since they tried to kill me tonight. I want to be the king of Gotham.” His voice cracked. “When I joined you that one night, and the nights that followed, I..I...felt just like a man, a man who owned a club.”

“You are.” You reached out to him, he flinched.

“You were the only one whoever looked at me and didn’t have fear lingering or disgust in your eyes. That was till the other night. I get angry, my anger blinds me.”

A sigh came from him.

“I have no business even asking, since you now know the monster I can be.”

He pressed his lips together before continuing.

“But, I would you like me to be my girl.” He looked down and when his eyes met yours, they were blue flames. “Fuck, tomorrow they may actually succeed and finish what they couldn’t do tonight. But, I would like to die knowing I had a chance at you being my girl.”

You inhaled, you closed the distance. This time when you reached out and actually cupped his cheek, he did not flinch. Going, up on your tiptoes you did the only thing you could think of. You kissed him.

Pain, ripped through when he pulled back.

“Really?” Was all he said.

“Yes.” You managed to say and tears slide from your eyes.

“Then, I’ll catch you till my dying breath.”

He grabbed you and you clung onto him. With no hesitation your lips finally met. They didn’t part for a very long time.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @rentskenobi @starwarsslytherin @proffesionalclown @chogisss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @pooshnulooshnu @speedypartyducksuitcase @blondekel77 @corey-clown @drarrylov3r @hollywood2k16

[eclecticmiasma]

Cold Blood (Bucciarati x Reader)

FS, as I deem you, you are always welcome in my inbox you nutball 😘 Incoming forced Bucciarati x Reader angst.

In the end, even the righteous are nothing more than animals. 

NSFW

[Warnings: rape, dead dove do not eat]

Art credit: MIE. on pixiv

When you and Bruno had entered the abandoned hangar, it seemed normal enough. A bit ominous in how massive and empty it was, an impression not helped by the lack of lighting, but nothing out of the ordinary. All you wanted to do was get in, gather some intel, and leave.

That’s when you spotted Diavolo’s henchmen.

“You’ve built up quite a reputation for yourself, Bucciarati. Many loyal citizens even refer to you as the Santo di Napoli…How quaint.”

Bruno’s mind reeled for ways to wipe the shit-eating grin off of the green-lipped doctor that loomed atop some scaffolding near forty feet above you. Even the gremlin that perched next to him on all fours seemed to be mocking in his gaze. Fear etched its way into your features, as neither of your stands were equipped to reach them. Until they made a move, you were caught like mice in a trap.

“My orders were to execute you both, but there’s a small experiment I’ve been dying to try for decades. The world lacks such passionate and honorable men as yourself, and I fear that if I simply snuff out your life now, I might never get the chance to see if my theory holds true.”

Your capo stood in front of you protectively, fingers itching, a cold and calculated look on his features. He was no doubt regretful that he had asked you and not one of his other underlings to help him with this task. His number one goal was to protect the ones he loved, and his love for you ran much deeper than you even realized.

“You see, I have a theory that any man on the planet can be brought to their base instincts with nothing more than a chemical. Humans love to drone on about how civilized and evolved we are. We tout our self-control as though we’re anything more than sentient beasts…The problem has been finding a man virtuous enough to be worth experimenting on. You should be honored that I’ve chosen you, Bucciarati.”

Cioccolata gave Secco a tap on the head and gestured for him to fish something out of his pockets. The boy did so gratefully, worming his fingers through the taller man’s pants until he found what he was looking for. His shoddily held together mask slipped down and revealed a beaming grin as he held up a small pistol for the doctor to see.

“Perfect! Always a reliable boy,” Cioccolata praised, flicking a white cube into his pet’s waiting mouth. He turned his attention back to his anxious captives, “If the experiment goes well, I’ll gladly let the two of you live. Though, I don’t know if you’ll want to.”

It happened in a millisecond. He pointed the pistol straight at Bruno and pulled the trigger once. Something much thinner than a bullet shot right through Bruno’s black and white suit into his bicep. You rushed forward to help him as he cried out in pain, immediately ripping the foreign object out of his arm and throwing it to the floor like it was made of fire. It appeared to be some kind of small, pink dart.

“Stay back!” Bruno shouted at you, feeling warmth spread from the sight of injection throughout his upper body. Whatever was in the dart worked immediately, and as you made eye contact you watched his frantic pupils dilate to the point that you could no longer see a hint of his bright blue irises. Panic flooded through you as you watched him struggle, fearing that he was in real pain. You turned up to shout obscenities at Cioccolata, demanding to know what he’d done, but the doctor’s unhinged look of pure delight gave you pause.  

“I wouldn’t take my eyes off of him if I were you,” He said, clucking his tongue. You noticed that Secco was leaned over the edge of the scaffolding, angling a video camera your direction.

Bruno’s heavy breathing brought your attention back. He was sweating bullets, normally kempt raven hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes flicked up and down your body as his chest heaved. Fear gripped you as you realized he looked like a cornered feral animal, “Bucciarati…are you o-”

“[Y/n]…” He practically growled, limbs twitching, drool dripping from his parted lips, “Run.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. The entrance to the warehouse was twenty to thirty feet away. If you could just get outside, you could flag down Abbacchio and Giorno who stood as lookouts for backup.  

You got hardly ten feet before something wrapped around your waist and slammed you backwards onto the hard metal floor, knocking the air out of you. Your veins ran ice cold as whatever it was immediately hooked its arms beneath your shoulders and began to drag you backwards. You kicked out wildly and screamed bloody murder, trying to dig your soles into the floor just enough to keep from being taken.

In a last ditch effort to escape, you turned your head down to bite the arms that constricted your chest. Horrified, you realized they belonged to Sticky Fingers.

“Bucciarati, stop!” You cried out, terribly confused. Sticky Fingers stopped and heaved you sideways so that Bruno stood at your feet, looming over you. His breathing was even more erratic, and his hands were visibly trembling. A single tear leaked from his blown out eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered. You tried to jerk out of the stand’s grasp as it suddenly gripped the sides of your shirt and ripped it open in a flurry of movement. Bruno’s eyes pierced your bare chest with his unhinged gaze, and suddenly he was on you like a rabid wolf. Lips, hands, teeth, breath- all of it gliding along your body at once with no regard for your sobs of protest.

Bruno and Sticky Fingers made quick work of your clothing, stripping you naked in a matter of seconds. All you could do was beg your capo to stop as he exposed you to the world, and all he could do was mutter apology after apology. He gripped your hair painfully and pressed his body against you, rutting his clothed, painfully hard erection against your lower abdomen and panting in your ear.

“[Y/n], [y/n]…I have to. I need to…”

“Bucc-Bruno, please don’t do this,” You wept. Bruno bypassed removing his pants altogether by just zipping the top half of them off completely, freeing his throbbing length. It hit your bare stomach with a sickening slap and bile rose in your throat. Sticky Fingers tightened its grip on your arms as you struggled, but you managed to kick Bruno hard in the thigh.

“You bitch,” He shouted, hands moved impossibly fast, digging his nails into your flailing legs so hard they pierced your skin. His voice sounded like it came from another entity altogether. You never even thought it possible for Bruno to get so enraged.

Just as fast as his fury came it disappeared into dust. His face immediately twisted into sadness and he threw himself against you, letting out a slew of apologies against your ear. You stopped struggling and just cried, completely stunned and profoundly conflicted. On the one hand, the man you trusted the most in this world was going to violate you beyond repair. On the other hand, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Bruno. It was the enemies that stood proudly above you, lazily gratifying their own members to your despair.

Like a man possessed, Bruno pushed your thighs apart painfully wide and began frotting against your bare folds. His groveling melted into mumbling incoherently about all of the ways he’s wanted to fuck you ever since the day you met. It pained you deeply to think that your friendship might have been nothing but Bruno biding his time, waiting for the day you would accede to his desire. You tried to shake the thought from your head. It isn’t Bruno, it isn’t Bruno.

From somewhere above, you heard Secco cackle wildly. The tip of Bruno’s cock found its way into your entrance, and the burning stretch immediately brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Bruno pressed on, despite the fact that your body rejected him fully. It was agony, your role model’s thick, dry length impaling you inch by excruciating inch. His lips met your neck and sucked angry red marks into your clammy skin. It felt like he was splitting you in two. Sticky Fingers gripped your arms so tightly one of your shoulders felt dangerously close to popping out of its socket.

“Looks like I was right again, Secco. Even Santo Bucciarati can’t fight nature,” You shook your head violently, feeling the room spin. Stop talking…you thought. Stop talking, stop talking, it isn’t him!

After eons, Bruno finally bottomed out inside of you. Even sitting still, the thrum of pain you felt around his cock was immense. Your eyes wrenched closed, refusing to watch as Bruno took your body for his own.

“Please,” You whimpered one final time, appealing to some part of Bruno you desperately hoped was still lurking beneath the surface of whatever possessed him. You were granted no such appeal.

“Fuck,” He growled, moving inside of you, dick dragging along your walls like barbed wire. He felt your hot, sticky tears against his cheek as his sweat-slicked face leaned against yours, and in his first act of kindness dragged his tongue along them, “Don’t cry, bella…you’re taking me so well…” His hips snapped against you as his hands roamed your body, grasping at whatever flesh was within his reach. Even Sticky Fingers made small sounds as his user canted deep inside of you.

Bruno moaned aloud when your pussy clamped on his length for the briefest of moments as he hit a spot that, under other circumstances, would have felt incredible. Instead, it only made you sick. A cloying feeling scratching at your guts as he fucked you with wild abandon.

His thrusts became more erratic once his lips found yours. You fought as hard as you could, clamping your lips shut and turning your face away from him. Sticky Fingers didn’t hesitate to painfully grab your jaw and snap your head back to center, using its thick digits to pry open your mouth and give its owner access. Bruno moaned into your mouth when his tongue met yours, and it took everything inside of you not to retch as it slid along your throat.

“God, fuck,” He pulled away from you, wrapping his arms around your neck and penetrating your hole at a brutal pace, “I love you, [y/n],” Your stomach dropped, “I love you, I love you, I-” His hips stuttered as his release hit him suddenly, his seed spurting deep within you all at once. You whimpered pitifully at its warmth, disgusted at the feeling of his thick semen coating your walls.

Cioccolata slowly clapped. Secco proudly showed him from what great angles he managed to film the fall of Bucciarati.

Bruno clung to you for several minutes after his orgasm, when all you wanted him to do was leave you alone to mourn. His body trembled against yours. When he finally pulled away, you saw that his eyes, the real Bruno’s eyes, were filled to the brim with tears. You never saw him look so pained. He tried to speak, but no words came. Sticky Fingers faded away, and you collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Bruno pulled himself from you and bellowed into the endless abyss of the hangar until his throat was raw.

Diavolo’s guards held true to their word. They didn’t kill you that night, or any other night. They simply collected their data, and left the two of you to wallow in your shattered new reality.

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

[venusofthehardsells]

No Rest for the Wicked [Dea ex Machina part one]

John ConstantinexAngel!Reader Summary: You travel to a remote island to put a murderous spirit to rest, but things get complicated when you run into one John Constantine. Warnings: swearing, mentions of mental illness, blood, smoking, ghosts, pining, is slowburn a warning? A/N: My first Constantine fic on tumblr, yay! This was originally written for a challenge aaages ago, but it got away from me and I couldn’t meet the deadline. I had so much fun with this though, Constantine is a great character to write for! There will definitely be more stories about him and this particular angelic reader in the future ♥

I’ve mixed elements from both the Vertigo comics and the NBC TV series, as well as from the general DC Universe, so don’t expect accuracy when it comes to canon. A special thanks to @nellblazer​​ for support and linguistic aid, you’re the best! ♥ Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged ~

Contrary to common belief, there had never actually been any ravens on Raven’s Rock. The tiny, windswept fleck of land in the North Sea had been named a few hundred years ago by a fool of a sailor, who hadn’t been able to tell a raven from a severely lost and consequently very confused Scandinavian pigeon. Said sailor had regrettably also been of some importance in his homeland at the time, meaning no one had bothered to correct the unfortunate mistake for fear of losing a head. Even though everyone who since came upon the island only ever managed to find gulls and puffins and various other seabirds, it had still kept its misleading English name.

The Celts, who by rights had been on the island long before the British, had chosen to play it safe and completely forego the bird names (although it had been suggested several times in later centuries to change it to the Gaelic word for seagull, or even pigeon, as a taunt). Instead, they had most likely looked to the ancient ruins that specked the island, jutting up from the rocks like broken teeth and, all things considered, had endured well beyond memory and history and legend. Or perhaps they had still been reeling from the mad determination that had brought them and their wooden ships so far from home. Whichever the case, they had called the stubborn, little rock Innis Seasmhach, “the steadfast island”.

That was its official name to this day, though most people, especially those who didn’t speak Gaelic (which in all fairness are not very many), still referred to it as Raven’s Rock.

The locals shrugged and simply called it “the island”.

There was only one village on the entire island, whose population on a good day might reach a hundred and thirty people. That usually only happened a few times during summer when the ferries from Stavanger and Aberdeen docked at the same time. The tourists came to see the ruins, buy a souvenir fridge magnet of a raven or a puffin, complain about the frightfully bleak weather and leave again on one of the ferries that departed before evenfall, secretly happy they didn’t have to spend any more time on the island.

On the day you arrived, the population on the isle of Raven’s Rock, was an astounding one hundred and forty four, which was quite unheard of in the middle of October.

What was even more unheard of, however, was the reason for all these untimely appearances.

A night ago, a pair of fishermen had discovered the body of a man in a small, secluded cove on the north side of the island. The body was placed so that it could only be seen from sea, unless one were to venture down a rocky and extremely narrow trail into the cove itself. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone slipping and ending up on the stony beach below. That kind of unfortunate death was of course tragic, but it hardly warranted the wide array of policemen and journalists the death had attracted. No, the reason for the sudden interest was the gruesome way the body had been displayed.

The dead man had been stripped bare and splayed out on the rocks like a cross with his arms stretched away from his torso. His skin was almost completely covered in symbols and writing no one could make sense of, though one expert, when consulted by the mystified and slightly desperate police, vaguely suggested it was possibly a rare pre-Arthurian dialect.

The more macabre specifics had so far been kept out of the press.

One was that the writings on the body had been done in blood, the corpse’s own, and another was that it came from where the head had been crudely severed from the rest of the flesh and spiked close by on a piece of driftwood.

Even hypnotised, the young sergeant who had told you, had looked slightly green when he related the information. You had padded him sympathetically on the shoulder before moving on. He wouldn’t remember revealing the details to you, but the information itself was seared into his mind forever.

His, along with the rest of the islanders’, you mused as you continued from the harbour and on into the village.

The locals called it “town”, but in truth it wasn’t really big enough to warrant that title.

It had one store that sold a little bit of everything depending on the weather, a church, a pub, a repair shop (it wasn’t specified what exactly you could get repaired there) and a public building, functioning as city hall, police station, post office, library and school in one. All the police reinforcements from Aberdeen had been moved into the city hall, seeing as the only two policemen permanently stationed on the island had never handled a murder case before. Meanwhile, the reporters and TV crews covering the case were taking up the pub’s five tiny bedrooms, both B&Bs and every single rental cottage Raven’s Rock could boast (nine in total if you counted the back room in the garage of the repair shop). Because you had left for the airport in a hurry and jumped onto the first plane to Norway, you hadn’t had time to secure a place to sleep on the island. You had pondered it on the ferry, but when it came down to it, you didn’t want to stick around longer than a day. If you worked fast, you could probably be on your way back to the mainland in the morning and wouldn’t need to worry about finding a bed. You had spotted a bench down by the harbour; it would have to do.

Besides, you didn’t have any time to waste as long as the murder case was unsolved. You could still hear Madame Xanadu’s words in your head like some annoying ominous echo.

A restless darkness will carry its evil across the water to be unleashed upon the twice-named rocks. The steadfast land will drink the blood of the laughing magician.

Fate was a menace when you had to deal with it like this, grounded and fumbling through the world with nothing but scraps to guide you. Not like in the old days when you had all of Heaven at your disposal… Being a proper angel had really had its advantages. You scoffed and walked faster. At least this prophecy had been pretty straightforward, which was far from what you were usually given to work with, you thought sourly, folding your arms around yourself against the wind.

A malevolent spirit that should have passed on, but hadn’t was easy enough to figure out; it happened all the time and you could deal with that. The location of the spirit had also been a walk in the park with so many hints to go on.

What really worried you was the second part of Madame Xanadu’s little mystic insight.

The steadfast land will drink the blood of the laughing magician.

Blood drinking was never a good omen in prophecies. It hardly ever meant vampires, usually just death. And the laughing magician, well, that one was always the same. The reason Madame Xanadu had called upon you to restore the balance in this place.

John Constantine.

Whenever one of her foresights indicated that the blonde warlock was walking into something he couldn’t handle himself, she sent you after him or, in this case, ahead to clear his path for him. Most times, he didn’t even know you had been there and you preferred it that way.

Like now.

The last you had heard of John was that he was in the States. Sufficiently far away, you thought. Even if someone had alerted him to the murder on Raven’s Rock, it would be at least another day before he could reach the windswept little island and by then you hoped to be long gone. It was best if you two didn’t meet at all.

You chewed on your lip as you thought of him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him, it was just… easier if you didn’t. The things you did, the jobs you took were simply too dangerous if your focus wasn’t a hundred per cent on the task in front of you. And with John around, your newly mortal heart had a tendency to make your better judgement evaporate.

You passed a phonebox on the main (and only) street that looked as though it had seen better days and a small tourist information office/part time bakery with its doors and windows shut for the night, before you reached the seemingly only building in town with light and, admittedly subdued, noise streaming out of it: the pub. Apart from the city hall, you reckoned it must be the oldest building around, but also by far the one in best repair. The wooden sign above the heavy green door was, unsurprisingly, in the shape of a very sinister looking gull and it swayed in the wind with an ominous creak that made a shiver run down your spine, as if trying to dissuade you from entering.

Well, it wasn’t very likely that you would get any information elsewhere. With determination in your steps, you walked the last few cobbled steps to the door and went inside.

Your eyes quickly scanned the room, the patrons, the energies... and you froze on the threshold.

On a stool by the bar sat the very man you had hoped to avoid. He had taken off his signature trench coat and his back was towards you, but it didn't matter; you would recognise him blindfolded. He was so thoroughly cloaked and shrouded in magical protections of all sorts that the space he occupied was practically a vacuum. It was damn near impossible to locate him by magic, you knew. If one weren't looking directly at him, like you were now, no sixth sense or intricate spell would reveal his whereabouts. But his was a vacuum you had come to know very well. So well in fact, that by now you could pin him down by his apparent lack of magic, rather than by his well-hidden magical signature, and yet, there he was, sitting only half a room away from you with a drink in one hand and one of his ghastly Silk Cuts resting between the fingers of the other. And you hadn't noticed. You hadn't even done a quick scan to see if there were other magical presences on the island when you arrived. Worse, you hadn't cloaked yourself as thoroughly as you normally would have done and your own signature reached him before you could even think to try and prevent it.

From the way he straightened his back and immediately snuffed out the cigarette in an ashtray as if someone had shouted at him to show some care, you could tell he knew you were there. He shifted ever so slightly as if making room for you and you sighed. There was no getting out of this one.

Getting rid of your raincoat, you went over and crawled onto the empty stool next to him.

You were met with that wicked smirk of his that made your heart stutter and stumble in your chest.

"Now, there's a pleasant surprise to brighten this hellhole," he greeted, raising his glass at you. "Must confess, I never guessed I'd be running into you on this godforsaken rock, luv."

"Hello John." You did with a nod, trying to keep your voice even. "Can't say I expected this to be your sort of retreat either."

The warm light in the pub shone in John Constantine's dark eyes and his smirk grew into a grin.

"It's good to see you, luv. I've missed that disapproving pout o' yours. The fact that I never know when I'll see it again makes it so much sweeter."

You rolled your eyes at him, but didn't attempt to hide your burning cheeks. The bastard couldn’t possibly know exactly how brightly your torch for him was burning, but he always acted accordingly.

"So, what are you doing here then? Odd place for playing tourist, innit?"

He leaned on the counter, his hand moving closer to where yours was resting and there was that little, dark gleam of hope in his eyes that always appeared when he looked at you. As if there was somehow some other reasonable purpose you could have to be in a place like this, at a time like this.

You shrugged, biting down a smile.

"I find the climate rather agreeable."

John threw his head back and laughed at that. Even the barkeep, who had overheard your words, snorted. You caught his gaze before he turned back around and ordered a sparkling water.

"Right. And I just happened by to see the sights, eh?"

"Well, what do you think of them then?"

You raised an eyebrow at him and took a sip of the fizzy water the barkeep placed in front of you. John grinned and gave you an obvious once-over. Your dirty boots and high-neck jumper didn't seem to put him off.

"Much improved since this morning. At this rate, I can't wait to see how they'll look in the night."

"Oh, I ought to slap that smirk off your smug face, wizard," you sighed, feeling how your stomach was practically fluttering at his suggestive tone.

"Is that a promise, luv?"

"You're insufferable."

"Aye, that I am, luv, but you keep coming back for more. Must be doing something right, eh?"

You bit your lip and looked down; he suddenly felt too close. And the general level of noise inside the pub from people chattering wasn't as high as you had hoped. It would be easy for others to overhear anything you said. Given the island-wide unrest over the murder, you were sure ears were perked more than usual and you didn't want to draw any attention to yourself, or John. You would have to gather more information some other way.

"I missed you, too," you confessed, staring at the bottles lining the wall behind the bar as if they were all of a sudden exceedingly interesting. "But I... I thought you were helping out a certain green vigilante overseas these days."

John visibly tensed up.

"Who told you that?"

You shrugged, still not looking directly at him. The truth was that he couldn't really hide from you, not even in your current state. If he found out though, you didn't doubt for a second that his heated flirting would be switched for a literal knife in the back before you could even think the word "portal". Well, perhaps not literal, but you had no doubt the outcome would be fatal for you anyway.

"Who told you to come here?," you countered, raising an eyebrow and John scoffed.

"If you must know, I got a call from an old friend. Looks like she's been scrying on her own and this little spit of land kept drawing all her energy. Didn't seem like something I could ignore."

"You should've," you mumbled, taking a large slurp of your water and doing your best to ignore the persistent little spark of envy starting to gnaw away at you at his choice of words. What old friend? It had to be someone he had slept with, it always was with him. Why couldn't you just not care? "Take my advice, John, leave. Go home and lay low. I'll handle this island."

"Is that concern for old Johnny I hear, luv?," he asked with mock-surprise.

"Maybe. Don't let it get to your head, your ego won't be able to fit into that coat of yours."

He chuckled, but the tension was still there and you didn't know how to break it without giving him the truth, or at least something close.

"Your turn, pretty bird. I don't believe in coincidences like this, so tell me. How'd you know to come here?"

Lying to John Constantine was out of the question. As was being honest with him.

You chewed on your lip a bit, weighing your options. It wasn't like him to accept any kind of help unless he was downright desperate and that was still a long way off. If you challenged him though, he was most likely to flee, that much you knew. But you didn't want to get on his bad side unless you had absolutely no other choice.

"Leave," you repeated. "This one's out of your league, John. Let me take care of it, please."

The way your eyes were pleading with him made him frown and you realised you might have shown too much of your hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, luv." His hand was on top of yours on the bar before you could move it. To anyone looking, it seemed like an affectionate gesture, but he was effectively pinning you in place. "Not until you give me a bloody good reason not to give you the same treatment as whatever beast it is we're dealing with on this island."

"Let go of me."

Your voice wasn't very loud, but you knew he could hear you. He answered by pressing down harder on your hand and you winced.

"Why is it so hard for you to believe I just want to keep you safe?," you all but hissed at him, emptying your drink with a sour expression.

"Oh, I trust you just about as far as I can throw you, luv. Every time I see your pretty little face it means there's trouble brewing just around the corner."

"I saved your life in Tennessee. And in Derry," you tried, but his hold didn't loosen. If anything, John was now gripping your hand so hard no blood could possibly flow to your fingers. "I am trying to do your stubborn Scouse arse a bloody favour, why can't you just for once in your damn life listen to me?"

"Tell me your name then and maybe I will."

Fuck. Somehow it always came down to that.

"Xanadu," you snapped through gritted teeth, eyeing John with what you hoped was an appropriate amount of ire. "Xanadu contacted me and told me about this place. Happy? Obviously, she wasn't going to tell you now, was she?"

John withdrew his hand from you as though you'd burned him. It felt about as pleasant as a punch to the teeth, but you tried not to let it show on your face.

"I suppose you're right...," he admitted. "What did she tell you then? Her usual cryptic nonsense I reckon?"

"For someone in your line of work, you're not at all keen on prophecy reading, are you?," you sighed, forcing a bit of humour into your words.

There was no love lost between John Constantine and Madame Xanadu, that much had been clear to you from the beginning. But even though she couldn't stand the sight of him, she believed John was instrumental in keeping the world safe and had begrudgingly agreed to help you protect him when she could.

"Not really my style. I prefer things more tangible, to the point. Besides, I don't need to worry about divination when I have you."

"You rarely do."

"Not by my choice, luv."

Your eyes flickered back to the empty glass in front of you and you had to take a very slow breath to try and steady yourself. His effect on you was too strong for you to be safe around him. Your job required a clear head - for both your sakes.

"A restless darkness will carry its evil across the water to be unleashed upon the twice-named rocks," you recited, steeling your voice as you averted his unspoken question the way you always did. "It wasn't that cryptic at all for once."

He didn't need to hear the other part. You could feel his eyes roaming your face, trying to figure you out, looking for something without fully knowing what. It was at times like these you missed your wings. Keeping secrets in a human body full of emotions and urges and reactions beyond your immediate control was frustrating at best. It was another reason you were better off keeping your distance.

After a while of searching your features, John sighed and gave up.

"Alright. So it's probably some kind of malevolent spirit then, wreaking havoc. Don't see why you're so worried luv, sounds like any other Tuesday to me."

The barkeep was close enough for you to signal for a refill to you both. He grunted something unintelligible, obviously not too keen on all the Brits suddenly hanging out in his pub. You made sure to send him a grateful smile as he filled your glasses, yours with sparkling water, John's with whisky.

"My weeks are all Mondays," you said and raised the glass to your lips; just as you had hoped, John did the same. "Did you get here in time to see the body?"

"Only after they moved it. Wasn't pretty..." He took another swig while staring at the wall with a distant glaze clouding his eyes that told you he wasn't seeing the wall at all. "Pathologist told me the man had been alive when 'is head was severed. The, er... the inscriptions..." John looked just as sickly green as the constable had done and very gently you put your hand on his shoulder. A small gesture of reassurance. "I'm tired," he whispered suddenly. He turned his head to look at you and your heart ached when you realised how glassy his eyes had become. "I am just so bloody tired. Demons, vampires, curses, spirits, the lot. No matter where I go, there're always more and people die, it never stops. Innocent people, good people... I just want a fucking break, but if I don't stop the darkness from spreading, who will?"

His voice was thin and on the verge of breaking entirely. You wanted nothing more than to lean forwards on the stool and put your arms around him, somehow make him know he wasn't alone, but the risk was too great. You were in too deep already.

"Sometimes I wonder whether it's all worth it..."

"Of course it's worth it, John," you said quietly, clenching his shoulder. "We do what we have to so they...," you gestured discreetly towards the patrons, ”they can go on living their lives and not... not know and see the things we do..."

"I know, luv, I know. I just... I want..." The gloom that was always lurking just below the surface of his existence was spilling into his eyes. He was weary to the bone, deep into his very soul. For a moment, you thought he was going to let the tears burst. "I risk my life every day and it's never bloody enough, is it? A man got his head carved off by some wretched spirit who should have been resting in peace. Fuckin’ Hell..."

He rubbed his eyes hard and you decided then what to do. You didn't like it one bit, but seeing John this worn down, well, you liked that even less. It meant you had been sleeping on the job.

As subtly as you could, you put your hand in your pocket and found the tiny zip-bag with a pinch of purple powder in it. It wasn't something you used often and it had never been meant for John, but you couldn't in good conscience let him go after a rogue spirit in his current state. While he emptied his glass again, you drizzled the powder into your hand and braced yourself.

"John, look at me. It's going to be alright. You are John Constantine and without you this world would have ended twelve times in the last decade, maybe more. And right now you are going to save this island, because that is what you do. So get off your sulking arse and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We have a job here. You're going to find that spirit and put it out of its misery before it hurts someone else, got it?"

He huffed, but even so raised his head and managed a small grateful smile at the reprimand.

"Yes. You're right. Thank you, luv. You always know what to say..." His eyes darted to your lips and for half a heartbeat, you did nothing, just sat there and waited for him to lean in the rest of the way and kiss you. It was far from the first time it had happened, but you still felt at war with yourself. There wasn't a single atom left in you anymore that didn't crave his affection. He was drunk and emotional and between the way he looked at you and the way there suddenly seemed to be less and less space separating your bodies, there was no doubt about his intention. It would be so easy just to finally give in and let it happen.

"Don't thank me."

Before he could lean back or ask you what you meant, you blew the purple powder straight into his face.

His eyes widened in shock, but his body immediately began to turn relaxed and pliant.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me...," he mumbled, but his gaze was already unfocused.

"I'm so sorry, John," you whispered, gently guiding his torso onto the bar.

He tried to say something more, but his words were slurred and within a few seconds, he was gone.

You had gotten the sleeping powder from a dealer in New Orleans, who had told you the effects would last at least four hours. They always oversold their stuff, but hopefully John would be out long enough for you to deal with the entire affair if you hurried up and took a few shortcuts. It was a messy solution, but then again, you hadn't planned on him being here. Desperate times and all that.

"He gonna be lying there all night?," the barkeep grumbled with a raised eyebrow at John when you hopped down from your stool. You put on the best smile you could manage under the circumstances and slid 50 quid across the counter.

"He'll come ‘round soon enough. If not, I'll be back for him in a few."

You practically fled the pub before he could ask you any more questions.

The road outside was deserted and you hoped no one was watching as you marched to the lonely phone box you had spotted earlier. It didn't look like anyone had used it in several years, but when you picked up the receiver the dial tone was there alright.

You took out a stained, battered playing card from the depths of one of your pockets (the seven of diamonds) and slid it into the credit card slot. You didn't own a mobile phone and neither did most of your acquaintances, but still you had memorised the few numbers you occasionally needed.

"Hey Chas, it's me," you said when the answering machine finally picked up. "I'm at the island with John and I haven't got much time. I don’t want to get John involved in this so I need to work fast. There's no need to worry, really, I've got it under control, but... just in case something unforeseen happens, uhm... if I don't call back in let's say ten hours, will you let John know where to find my body? He can't track me in his usual ways, so he'll need your help."

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. What you were about to do was risky, maybe even reckless.

"I'm going to the beach where they found the dead man and work my way from there. If... if I don't succeed..." It was as if your throat was suddenly full of gravel. "Chas, please, just make sure John isn't the one to take on that spirit. He is not ready for that." Too late, you held the receiver away from your face while you tried to suppress a sniffle. So much for convincing Chas Chandler that you had things under control. Forcing your voice to even out, you continued. "I have to go. Just help him if I can’t, okay? And don’t worry too much. I’ll probably see you in a couple of days.”

Before you could say anything even more stupid, you hung up and slid your helpful seven of diamonds back into your coat. Handy little thing to have on you.

You left the phone box in the last light of day and made your way down to the beach. It took you twenty minutes to reach the cove and less than one to sneak under the police tape unseen. There were just two constables standing guard at the scene and they only looked when you wanted them to. For an active crime scene, the site was unusually quiet, but you attributed your luck to the dusk that made searching for clues almost impossible.

Of course, that went for you as well, you thought sourly as you carefully stepped around the little plastic numbers the police forensics had put up all over the little stretch of beach. You could make out the bloody piece of driftwood and the large dark spatter running down the stones where the corpse had lain, but nothing smaller than those. Even if the place was rather secluded, you didn’t dare light a torch with the uniforms standing idly guard so close by.

Sighing, you closed your eyes and concentrated.

The place was tingling with dark energy and it became clearer the more you felt around, using your own magic.

A spirit, just like you had anticipated. A lost soul preying on the living for… revenge? Yes, the bloody traces sang with the mad desire for vengeance that so often kept the dead from their rest. 

Bloodshed, the thirst temporarily quenched. Then what?

The movements of the spirit became blurry after that no matter how hard you tried to focus. The leftover energy had been disturbed and mixed with the signatures of all the people who had been to the crime scene since the discovery of the body and it was impossible to make out without assistance, even for someone as experienced as you.

If you couldn’t locate the soul, you couldn’t send it packing. 

Luring it via séance required more people and it was too risky for everyone involved anyway. Without its name, summoning it was out of the question as well.

You groaned when you realised what you had to do.

Making sure for the last time you couldn’t be seen from the line of police tape above you, you took off your backpack and dark raincoat and shoved both of them under the nearest rock. Next, you loosened your boots and sat them next to the backpack, then your thick scarf and woollen jumper. With short, angry movements, you rolled your trousers down and folded them hastily, ripped off your socks and wriggled out of your top.

“You’re so bloody lucky I love you, John,” you mumbled through clenched teeth that were starting to rattle in your skull. With fingers already numb from the cold, you unclasped your bra and slid down your underwear before you could change your mind, and with a deep breath, you stepped into the waves.

Even before you went into the sea, your body had been covered in goosebumps from the chilly October air, but the surfs rising around your legs now made you heave for breath with every step forward. The rocks under your feet were dull compared to the sharpness of the water. When it reached you mid-thigh you had to stop and wait for the pain to subside enough so that you could get further out. You were too close to the beach and the water was still too shallow for your purpose.

A tangle of seaweed drifted past your ankle, or at least you hoped it was just seaweed. It was hard to tell for sure in the dark.

Your submerged muscles were screaming as you forced yourself out until the water reached your ribs. If only that wretched spirit hadn’t chosen the middle of the bleeding autumn to throw its tantrum.

“Sacred Nanuet, your humble servant speaks to you,” you intoned through gritted teeth and held out your hands on either side of you so the gentle waves touched the palms of your hands. “She beseeches you; allow her the honour of sharing in your wisdom. Blessed goddess, lend her your sight and expand her understanding, your humble servant begs of you, great Nanuet…”

The ancient language you muttered your request in felt strange on your tongue as always, but your flattery worked. You could feel the magic start to sing under your hands and so you took a deep breath and lowered yourself completely into the sea.

The stranglehold of the freezing water somehow got pushed into the background of your conscience and within a beat of your heart your mind was alight with images. Through the water, you could see most of the world, but you focused on Raven’s Rock and the little beach behind you. The water had seen it all. From the depths of the ocean, it rolled onto the sand and sneaked its way under the island’s rocks, seeped into the soil and was drunk by the hungry roots of The Green, stretching into the light above ground…

It wasn’t long before you managed to zero in on the exact event you needed. The Sight of Nanuet allowed your mind to access the memory of the watery abyss, which included as good as all water on Earth and not a lot of people mastered navigating it anymore. You had been forced to use a lot of wordly magic since you lost your wings and so had learned to find what you needed relatively easy.

Through the Sight, you saw the murder of the man on the beach, how the spirit severed his head and lapped at the blood before turning away from the scene. It lost some of its shape then, but through the dewy grass above the cove and the moist air, you managed to follow it away from the beach and across the land.

The spirit held its physical form, or at least the overall contours of it, and it made it easier to trail. From what you could tell, it definitely had been human when it had been alive. Poor thing. If only it hadn’t gone and murdered someone, maybe you could have sent it to rest. 

But would you even be there if it hadn’t?

When the spirit finally settled, you had followed it to an old, abandoned stone house with no windows and a door rotting away on the hinges. The place must have been a farm. There were several small outhouses scattered around the main building and indents in the earth marking former animal pens. The roof had been a thatched one, but now it was more moss than straw and what still remained beneath the heavy green patches had long since turned mouldy and dark. A few shards of glass jutted from some of the window frames like crude, predatory teeth waiting to chew up whoever was unfortunate or foolish enough to get close.

You went after the spirit through the remnants of the front door.

A voice in the back of your head told you it was enough, you should get out of the house and the Sight and the water. You had what you needed for now.

But the way the spirit slumped through the dark rooms and up a ramshackle staircase, as if it had done it a hundred times before, as if it belonged there in that house, intrigued you. It didn't match your original theory, the reason you didn't want John involved.

Curiosity piqued, you followed the lonely ghost up the stairs, where it turned left and went into a room with what had been two alcoves in the wall but were now mostly caved in. The room didn't have any windows and it was hard to make out the details, but the flimsy shape of the spirit trudged towards one of the beds and with motions as if the bedding had still been intact, it lay down and pulled the memory of a blanket over itself.

You slowly got closer, unsure of what to do. The visible shape of the ghost was gone now that it was no longer in motion and the general gloom of the empty house made it near impossible for you to see anything clearly. But the person the ghost had been once seemed so at home here. You couldn't feel any hostility from it at all, not even a trace. Only peace, comfort. Quiet.

This had been its home once when it had lived, you were almost certain of it.

But the desolate little stone house, out of the way even for the island's standard, must have stood abandoned for several decades, maybe even a century or two. If the ghost had lived here it was much older than you had initially thought.

Which meant you might have knocked John out for nothing.

Fuck.

You had to find out more and fast, but it was unlikely the memory of the house before your closed eyes would yield anything further. Even if it was dark and late in the evening, you would have to go there physically. The chances of finding something would be higher, and besides, you couldn't stay in the water forever. You were almost human, after all.

The thought had barely crossed your mind before the reflex to breathe kicked in and you could feel the freezing seawater rush down your throat. One inhale was all it took for your lungs to feel heavy as a pair of burning bricks. A fleeting realisation, that drowning was one of the most unpleasant sensations you’d had the misfortune of experiencing since losing your wings, faintly made it to the front of your perception before the back of your head hit the sand on the ocean floor. Then the only thing you could focus on was the pressure of the water and the way your body grew ever more numb…

The room still flickered before your eyes, slowly losing definition as you lost consciousness. Strange, you mused with your last bit of coherence, that an angel from Heaven should die looking up at it from so far below, in the cold embrace of the sea. It wasn't even painful anymore, the water, but oddly comforting, lulling you to rest, holding you tight.

The only regret you had was leaving John…

The last thing you saw before your eyes fell shut was his face above yours and a faint smile moved your lips. How very considerate of your mind to conjure up his image as the last thing you would ever see.

You could feel his arms around you even, fingers digging into your skin, his body pressed down against your own…

“Bloody fucking Hell, let her go!” The words didn’t make sense to you and they sounded so awfully far away. “She isn’t yours, you stupid paegan relic, let go of her! Let go!”

But you were, you were letting go, there was nothing more you could do.

“Christ, luv, which heathen tosspot did you enlist to drown you?! Yam, Ægir? Tiamat? Nanuet? Nanuet, isn’t it?” At the invocation of her name, you could feel the ancient goddess slacken her hold on you, as if in surprise, and you vaguely realised that the embrace you felt didn’t belong to her or the water, but to John. “Oh, you always were a fickle tart. Let go of this servant or so help me God, I, John Constantine, will destroy you and every last shrine still bearing your blasted name! Let her go!”

With a cry you weren’t sure was even coming from you, your face broke the surface of the waves. You violently coughed up seawater and if it weren’t for John’s arms, you would have fallen right back down into the deep. Your head was spinning. The numbness gave way to a cold so freezing you might as well have been rolling in needles. Everything hurt. Your legs felt unsteady, no, your entire body felt as if someone had replaced your bones with straw and your muscles with jelly.

“J-John…,” you coughed, but he shushed you, keeping you close to him in the water.

“I know, luv, it’s a bloody miracle you aren’t dead, you’re welcome for that. Now let’s get you out of the water, yeah?”

He was really there, drenched in the North Sea in the middle of October at what might as well have been the edge of the Earth, just to save you from drowning. His white shirt and black trousers clung to his frame like film and from what you could make out in the light from the moon, he was shuddering from the cold, too. You had never wanted to kiss him so badly before.

“I c-can’t m-m-move,” you got out through teeth rattling painfully in your skull, suddenly all too aware of your proximity and your own state of undress. As much as you wanted to cling to him for warmth, for closeness, the logical part of your muddled brain was screaming at you to keep your distance. That was what you did, wasn’t it?

“‘Course you can’t. How long were you under for, anyway? Completely off your rocker summoning a paegan goddess alone at night in the middle of the bloody ocean! What were you thinking?”

“I-I saw the g-ghost,” you weakly tried stammering through your clattering teeth. “Saw h-how it killed-ungh!”

You let out a groan as John swiftly picked you up and started carrying you towards shore. Your severely tested heart felt as though it might give out entirely. Never had you been reckless enough to let him touch you like this before, to let him hold you, as if you were a lover who would readily indulge in such intimacy. If it weren’t for the fact that you were very likely about to freeze to death, your cheeks would have been on fire. Every inch of your skin would have been scorching.

As it were, you were too cold and too exhausted for your body to produce that kind of heat. Surrendering to the fatigue in your bones, you allowed your head to rest against him and closed your eyes. He could carry you to shore or to Hell on his hands. You weren’t going to argue. For the first time in all your human life, you completely let your guard down.

[i-will-be-your-ace]

Merchant and the Death herself (Gods au)

Jason was an unusual merchant. In order to pay the price for his products you just had to give whatever you want. From information or food to simple money. He had everything you could want, and if he didn't, he would find it.

That was his job and he enjoyed it.

-

" I want my loved one back."

" What will you offer me?"

" Will this necklace be enough?"

" Sure."

" I want to forget what happened. I want to be happy again. Will information about plans from Goddess of Weather cover it?"

" Yeah."

" Mom said that my big brother feels bad. Something about his lungs. I want him to be okay. I have a flower crown, can I pay with it?"

" Just put it on my head and we have a deal."

" But you're so tall! Like my brother!"

" It's okay, I'm gonna lower myself. See? Now you can reach my head."

-

Jason loved his work. Even if sometimes it was lonely. But often his annoying brothers came to visit him. Just like now.

" Heard the news? Young Agreste once again asked the Goddess of Death to be his girlfriend."

Dick, his older brother, always brought news and gossips about others Gods. And he knew that Jason loved to stay updated.

" Who's that?"

" Adrien Agreste, future God of Sun, right now studies with current God. It's like you're forgetting him on purpose."

Jason only shrugged, looking at Dick who was sitting on the other side of the table.

" He's not important for me. But the poor Goddess, who has to live through the hell because of him, is. Now tell me more news."

His brother laughed, taking a small sip of his tea.

" Fine. Goddess of Lies still tells bullshit and rumors about her. Ans some Gods and Goddesses still believe it. Death still stays away from public and doesn't give any information about herself. She especially keeps quiet about her teacher, God of Death, and what happened with him. And her honorary siblings keep that information hidden too."

" Nothing else about others?"

" No, everything is calm... For now."

The evil grin, that his brothers showed, tickled his nerves.

" Why does it sounds like you're gonna do something?"

" Oh come on, Jay. I'm joking!"

" Well, as much as I enjoy your company, I have work to do."

Jason stands up from his table with his mug in the hand. Dick does too, and smiles at his brother.

" It's okay. Hope you have a good day. See you later!"

The bell of his door ringed softly as Dick left. Jason places two mugs into the sink in his backroom, and continues to work.

The silent and calm atmosphere of his shop once again is here. Until he heard a female voice.

" Greetings, Jason."

He hoped that no one, especially his brothers, heard his scream. When Jason calmed down he looked at intruder. She was in black cloak with hood that hid her body and head. But then she lowered her hood. Jason was sure that he never met anyone more beautiful than her. A midnight dark blue hair in a side braid with bluebell eyes and pale skin with freckles.

" H-How did you get here? I'm more than sure that the bell didn't ring."

She giggled, while hiding her mouth with her hand.

" I have my ways."

He took a calming breath and collected his confidence.

" Well then, what I can offer you?"

" Tell me, Jason. Will my company and friendship be a worthy payment?"

He smiled.

" Depends on what you want to buy."

She looked him in the eyes with her majestic blue eyes.

" I'd like to buy your friendship."

That shocked him to the core.

" A-and why would you want it?"

Mysterious lady smiled so gently, he was sure his heart will explode.

" I observed you Jason. You're a kind, honest and pleasant person."

'Was he?'. A silent question that he ran through his head and the one that he gladly ignored. He held out his hand for a handshake.

" Jason Todd, pleasure to meet such a beautiful maiden."

She, without any hesitation, took his hand.

" Marinette, pleasure to meet you too."

That's how a beautiful friendship started. They often hang out at his shop, while he was working, in town, at her giant and beautiful garden and many other places.

Through all of those meetings they got to know eachother.

" You know, you never told me your last name."

Her face saddened at this, and he wanted to punch himself badly.

" I don't actually have a real one. My parents abandoned me when I was very young. I don't know why, and never wanted to know. I was found by a good man, who became my father. He had a lot of honorary kids, who became my siblings. Right now he is on a some kind of vacation."

Jason hugged her, and made sure that she knew how much he cared.

And eventually, this friendship blossomed into something more. Slowly but surely, they fell in love with eachother. During one lovely midday they went on their first date. After some more dates, they became a couple and shared their first kiss.

Right now, Jason and Dick once again talked about news. But a female figure appearing out of nowhere interrupted their talk.

Jason recognised his love's black cloak, and rushed to her, not caring if Dick did the same thing. This time Marinette had a raven's scull mask on that she quickly took off with shaking hands, and looked at him with terrified eyes.

" Jay, please- I beg you- don't tell him I'm here! Jay I need to hide, please!"

Jason nodded to Dick, who took her to the apartment above the shop. He quickly sat at his table, as if working.

After what felt like half a minute some blond guy stumbled inside his shop.

" Can I help you?"

" Is she here!? Answer me!"

The blonde obviously was furious.

" Who?" Jason tried to look innocent.

The guy literally growled.

" The Goddess of Death! Some scull mask, black cloak!"

His eyes widened, his love was the Death herself? He reminded himself that right now wasn't the time to think about it.

" Sorry, today no one besides you stepped inside. But I would be honoured if she would."

Blonde guy furiously slammed the door shut as he ran out from the shop.

Jason tried to digest the new information. Then he remembered about Mari and Dick and quickly climbed the stairs.

With Mari and Dick

Dick guided the shaking lady to Jason's bedroom. He wasn't sure who she was, but she knew Jason well enough to call him by his nickname so he trusted her. He then put her on his brother's bed.

" Are you okay? Any injuries?"

She slowly stretched out her shaking hands and Dick saw something he didn't noticed before. Big, severe burns all over her arms shaped as someone hands. He quickly rushed to the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom and brought water, ointments and bandages. Dick tried to be as gentle as possible with her wounds.

Dick was almost done with bandaging when he heard Jason entering the room. His brother walked closer to mysterious lady.

" Mari, are you feeling better?"

Mentioned lady only nodded. Jason noticed bandages on her arms and looked at him. Dick whispered " I'll tell you later."

Jason gave a small nod.

" Mari, this is my older brother, Dick. Dick, this is Marinette, my... girlfriend."

At first, Dick's eyes widened but then, a big smile appeared on his face.

" Jay-Jay why didn't you tell any of us- curse that, why didn't you tell me about her!" Dick quickly embraced Jason to which he grumbled.

" That's why."

Jason pried himself from his brother's arms, and gently hugged Mari while kissing her forehead. When he let go he sighed.

" Mari I have a serious question... Are you the Goddess of Death?"

Dick's eyes widened once again. He looked from his brother to his hopefully future sister in law. Marinette sighed.

" I hoped you would-!" Unexpectedly a portal opened. Three persons entered Jason's room. Dick recognised Luka, the God of Moon, Felix, the God of Destruction, and Kagami, the Goddess of Mourning.

All of them at the same time shouted their sister's name.

" Marinette!"

[tchaikovskycellowriter]

The Flopped Artists - Chapter One

While the hippie bus was driving down the driveway, I turned around to my mother to wave at her. It was in vain, for she had already fled into the house, looking for the pack of cigarettes that I had found and thrown away yesterday. My mother was one of those chain smokers, a stubborn addict that did not even think about quitting.

But I wanted her to quit. Otherwise her life would be - after a childhood that was marked by drugs and alcohol - cut even shorter. But everytime I brought it up, she would roll her eyes that looked so much like mine and light another one. On those moments her eyes would miss their usual spark. While taking a puff, she always said: "Just leave it, Indi. Raising a child is pretty hard. Just give me a moment to relax, okay?" Usually she refused to say anything more after that. I would stop trying and leave the room. That's how it always went.

My mother had raised me on her own, my father played no role in my life. The only thing I know about him is his name, Gold Guggenheim, and that he's a Texan. My mother had had a short summer romance with him, but it had not lead to anything more than that. He went back to Texas, to get married and run a company. My mother went back to the hippiecommune where she lived, pregnant with me, poor, heartbroken and with just a phone number.

When I was born, my mother was very young. Seventeen. Pressured by her mother, my grandma, she gave me a colourful name "to keep the tradition going." Out of all the colours she could have picked, she went with Indigo. Indigo Gold Guggenheim, so I would still have a little connection to my father. My mothers name is Blanche, and my grandma's Ruby, the mastermind behind the tradition. No, I don't like my name, but it's the only connection I have to my family.

I looked to my left, to my best friend Aquamarine Quintanilla, who was driving the bus. He looked incredibly cool, with a yellow banana bandana on his head, together with a tusken necklace. In his ear he had one subtle earring.

His raven black hair was messy and fell over the bandana. His eyes had an odd colour that contrasted strongly with his coffee-with-milk-coloured skin. They were some kind of blue green, that immediately reminded me of the sea. He was wearing a Guns N' Roses T-shirt, short jeans and flip-flops.

His sharp eyes looked at the boring Dutch highway. He saw things that we, ordinary folk, couldn't see. Aquamarine was a photographer, and was incredibly good at spotting nice locations for his pictures. Everything was a possible portrait to him, nothing was unusable. Aquamarines eyes slid towards me, and he smiled his infectious smile.

Stretched out on the backseat lay my other friend, Purper Jügendstil, the son of German immigrants and a student of the Dutch language. His laptop was resting on his chest. He was probably working on his never ending novel. He was an aspiring poet and struggling author. He had already published some mediocre novels before, but his name wasn't a big one yet in the world of literature. From my chair I could only see the edge of his golden hairs and thick glasses.

Next to him, lost in her thoughts, sat his fiancé, Violet Lowtown, an ex-ballerina. She was playing with their daughter, Magenta. Violets ink black hair was up, like it had been in long gone days. There were bags under her eyes. Her movements were graceful, and one could immediately tell that she wasn't born with that gracefulness, and that it had been reached by endless practice. Her eyes had a closedness to them, that made me wonder if they were keeping a secret.

All in all we were a bunch of weirdo's, on the way to Spain with only the name of a woman we had never seen before. After some googling we found the name of a tiny village, and we decided to head there.

I thought about in what way I fitted in with this bunch of weird artists, and I got startled by the surprisingly easy answer: I fitted in perfectly, I realized when my life suddenly flashed before my eyes. My schooling at the art-academy, my first exposition, my first sold painting. I know I said 'first' as if it was followed by countless of others, but that is not true. 'First' should be 'first and last.'

My art was average, or slightly above at its finest. And nobody wants to have something average in their living room. Even though my first name was a colour and my last name a museum, I did not have the capabilities to live up to that.

In silence we rode to the south on the highway for an hour. Everybody was lost in their thoughts, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time, and the silence was only ever broken by some sounds Maggie made. (Maggie is Magenta's nickname, because I despise that name with all my heart).

"Tell me, Purper," said Aquamarine with his clear voice, and he looked into the rearview mirror. "How far along are you with your book? I'd love to read it sometime."

Purper started blushing, took his glasses of and started cleaning them excessively. "It's not finished yet," he said in the end, like he was only now able to form a sentence consisting of less than ten words.

"What's it about?" Aquamarine asked.

"Well..." said Purper, scratching his head, thinking about how he was going to explain that. "It's about this boy, Markus Quartz, who doesn't do anything with his life. He quit school, has no hobby's nor friends, nothing. His parents live at the other side of the country, and the story is basically about how solitude gets him and consumes him slowly and he regrets his laziness."

Aquamarine nodded interested. "I'd really like to read that sometime, man," and I knew he meant that. Aquamarine wasn't a fan of sarcasm and therefore seldom used it. He was a man of his word.

"Can you read a part of it to us?" Violet asked, while she put her own book away. Purper started to blush even worse. "Do I really have to? I mean - "

"Read it! Read it!" the three of us yelled at the same time, and so Purper had to obey. He cleared his throat and started at the beginning. "I don't really have a reading voice," he said, in a last effort to not having to do it."

"We'll see," Aquamarine said, and so Purper had to stop resisting. He started to read out loud, first hesitatingly, but the further he got the more confident he became. Everybody, including little Magenta, listened clearly.

Yesterday he still enjoyed his empty life, but today Markus Quartz found himself in a state of upheaval. Suddenly a feeling of solitude had gotten the better of him, a kind of loneliness that couldn't be fixed by sending a useless text to one of his few friends. No, it was the kind of solitude that stalked and robbed you when you least expected it.

"Oh no!" said Violet, who couldn't keep her mouth shut. Purper looked at her and pat his girlfriend on the shoulder. "It's just a story," he said.

"I know," she answered.

Because of the interruption, everybody had fallen completely out of the story. Purper wanted to go on, but Aquamarine raised his hand. "It's okay, dude. Save the rest for later."

"But... this is only page one out of 1374!"

"Yes, and that's exactly why," Aquamarine replied, and he winked at me.