#hes not gonna just be popping in to be beat up by infinite Once like he should be like INVOLVED.

[blessyourhondahurley]

Gender Roles? Sushi Rolls!

Date Night collides with Daddy Issues.

Suptober prompt: Fish Flufftober prompt: All the Hugs Fictober prompt: "Is this safe?" Inktober prompt: Fairy

(Read on AO3)

He can't help it. The words push their way past his lips again. “For real, though. Is this safe? Cas, are you sure this is safe? We're not gonna get brain-eating worms or something from this?” In the seat next to him, Cas only sighs. With a single gust of air he eloquently expresses both infinite patience and bone-deep irritation. Dean raises his hands in apology.

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry, I'll be quiet.” He clamps his mouth shut but his body language still speaks and Cas hears it, as usual. His face falls.

“Dean, do you want to leave? We can leave,” he offers.

Dean shakes his head. “No, Cas, I–” he protests, but his husband cuts him off.

“I'm sorry I suggested this. You said it was my turn to pick, anything I wanted to do, but I see now that I should have picked something else. Let's just go.” He starts to stand. Dean grabs his wrist.

“No, stop. It's fine. Sit down. I'm sorry. We're doing this. You want raw fish for dinner, we're getting raw fish for dinner. It's fine.” Cas settles back into his seat while Dean fiddles with the menu in front of him and tries once again to sort through the unfamiliar choices listed there.

“See anything you want to try?” Cas prompts.

Dean shakes his head. “Dunno what any of it is,” he admits with a grimace.

“May I order for both of us?”

He nods glumly in reply, eyes cast down. Suddenly, absurdly, he realizes he's going to cry. He has no idea why he feels that way, which sucks. But then a moment later he understands exactly where these tears are coming from, which actually sucks even worse. He sniffs.

“Love, what's wrong?” his husband asks, his voice soft.

“S'just... If Dad was here, he'd be so pissed at me.” Another sniff, and the tears are falling now. He swipes at his face with the back of his hand and continues, “Sittin' here in a sushi bar with my husband? He'd call me a fuckin' fairy and drag my ass outta here. Probably beat me black 'n' blue in the parking lot.”

Beside him, Cas growls, and Dean can hear his teeth grinding when he clenches his jaw. “Dean...” he begins. He picks up a pair of chopsticks off the counter and snaps them in half, lengthwise. Then he bundles the halves together and snaps them all neatly in half again. He clenches the pieces in his fists, then releases them and folds his hands together. “Your father was an asshole.” he states primly.

Dean is shocked into laughter. The awful sick pressure that had been building in up in his chest pops like a soap bubble. “Jesus, Cas, tell me what you really think,” he challenges, feeling almost playful in the wake of that tension.

“This is neither the time nor the place for me to give you my full opinion of John Winchester,” Cas assures him. “Suffice it to say, I acknowledge the struggles which shaped him, but I do not absolve him for his choices. He loved you and your brother very much, but the twisted, destructive ways he expressed that love? I cannot forgive him for any of it. You and Sam deserved all the nurturing care, all the hugs and kindness and support, that a parent could give. But your father chose instead to use you both as a dumping ground for his pain and self-loathing. He was an asshole, and he's dead, and you need to stop letting him express his shitty, uninformed, toxic opinions about your lifestyle choices from beyond the grave.”

Cas punctuates the end of this speech with a beckoning gesture to the waiter. They converse in fluid Japanese for a couple of minutes while Dean sits numbly on his stool, mouth agape, just processing.

After the server departs, Cas turns to him with an inquiring look. “Do you disagree?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Not in the slightest,” Dean admits. “I'm evicting John Winchester from my head.” He pantomimes grabbing something at his temple and throwing it to the ground. He has to admit, the action really does leave him feeling lighter.

His husband nods approvingly. “I'm glad to know it's just the two of us on this date for once.” The waiter returns with a squat ceramic bottle and two small cups. Cas pours each about half full, hands one to Dean, and holds the other up. “To us,” he offers.

Dean returns the toast, knocking their cups together gently. “To us.”

[suprgamr66]

Writer comment: This is the uncut version of something I had to submit to school that I wanted to see the light of day because what I had to submit, in my opinion, sucked compared to this. I hope you guys enjoy the first of the infinitewatch chronicles

The Infinite Watch Chronicles: The Omniversal Dead

By: suprgamr66

As the fight goes on, the stone castle Scorpion and Sub-zero were fighting Havik in stayed cold and filled with gold in the room they were in. An ominous bowl of lava was staring them down, almost begging to send someone into it. Scorpions red ninja outfit stained with havik’s blood as his limbs and body regenerates every injury. Sub-zero freezes Havik in place with an ice ball. Havik’s vest and white pants glistening in the ice. As scorpion goes to deal a final blow, a bright white light flashes and they’re all suddenly transported to a dark forest. They can hear someone threatening a group in a cocky voice. Scorpion says, “maybe we should form a temporary alliance with havik until we get back home. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.” Havik has a look in his eyes that appears to mean that he agrees. Sub-zero says,

“If he betrays us I will rip off his head. I don’t care how many times it grows back.” Scorpion melts the ice keeping havik encased. Havik’s raspy voice says,

“Thank you” once his head is freed from the ice. Once his entire body is out of the ice they weave through the thick forest before they find a clearing, where a man in a leather jacket is pacing, pointing a bat wrapped in barbed wire at people as he passed them, surrounded by a large group of people, like some sick game of duck duck goose. Sub-zero said,

“Hold our position here, I want to see what he does”. The man in the leather jacket says,

“Eenie, meenie, miney, you” and he hits a man with red hair and red mustache. Blood starts pouring out of his head. “LOOK AT THIS GUY! TOOK A HIT TO THE HEAD AND IS TAKING IT LIKE A CHAMP!” The man straightens his back and in a deep angry voice says,

“drink… my… almond milk”. Havik seemed to enjoy seeing this however Scorpion and Sub-zero seemed utterly shocked by the attack the man had performed. The man continued smashing the head until it was nothing but a bloody pulp on the ground. A man in the center said,

“I will kill you. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday.” As the man in the leather jacket begins to walk away he is punched by a man in a denim jacket but is held back from doing anymore by some of the people surrounding the people in the middle. The man gets back up after getting punched and says,

“Back to it” and hits another man on the head. This time the hit was harder and caused the eye to pop out of the socket. Havik leaned forward as if watching his favorite show while Scorpion and Sub-zero were disgusted and shocked by what had been done.

“This is not honor”, Sub-zero said.

“You’re right brother”, Scorpion replied. The man who was hit over the head started stuttering as if struggling to speak. The man in the leather jacket says,

“Woah, I can’t tell but it looks like you’re trying to speak! But you just took one heck of a hit and got hit so hard your eye popped out of your socket”. The man who’s eye is popped out stutters the words,

“Maggie… I will find you”. The man in the leather jacket realizes who he was to Maggie and regrets his decision saying,

“Ah heck. I know this is hard for you. But you have to learn. No exceptions.” He finishes finishes the job, a little quicker this time but still beating the head to a pulp. Scorpion says,

“We must help them” Sub-zero replies,

“While I want the glory of saving these people and killing that man it is not worth it right now. We need to wait until he leaves. We can kill him when he comes back.” Scorpion nods but Havik appears impatient. The man in the leather jacket takes the man who threatened to kill him into a RV. They drive away which Sub-zero sees as his chance to save those captured. He says, “alright, come on, let’s go” scorpion throws his arrow head that’s attached to a chain, it hits a man and he bellows in a deep voice,

“GET OVER HERE!” And he pulls the chain, ripping out the heart which he sets on fire and kicks back, hitting leaked gas lines and causing an explosion setting multiple people on fire. Sub-zero freezes others, crushing their heads upon reaching them, causing blood to spill on the ground. Havik goes in and rips off is arm using it as a bat against two people blood spilling as the heads are knocked off. His arm regrows and he punches another person so hard his hand breaks of and there’s just two arm bones. He stabs a man in the stomach with his bones and rips a hole causing the man’s intestines to fall out. One man runs to try and find where the man in the leather jacket went. After all the people surrounding the others were dead, Scorpion and Sub-zero went to aid the others but havik appeared to be in pain as a he regrew his hand. The people who’d been surrounded, looking stunned, stared at their rescuers as they were brought back to their feet. A boy in a sherif’s hat asked,

“Did you make sure to destroy all the heads?” Sub-zero replied

“It’s too inefficient to aim only for the heads.” The boy responded,

“No. You have too. Where have you been the past two years.” Sub-zero looked at the boy in confusion before havik screamed out in pain. Everyone turned to look at him as one of the people killed was biting havik’s arm. Scorpion quickly threw out the spear head on a chain. It hit the dead man in the head and upon contact scorpion pulled it back ripping the head off. The man in the denim jacket says,

“We’re lucky it was just the arm. We can amputate to save him.” Without hesitation Sub-zero grabs havik by the wrist, turning it to ice and shatters the arm, leaving ice shards all over the ground. But, havik screams out in pain as the arm fails to grow back and blood flows from the wound. Stunned Sub-zero takes a step back, confused as scorpion moves in and creates fire in his hand, cauterizing the wound on contact with the wound. Havik screams out when the flame makes contact. After an agonizing minute of screaming Havik’s arm grows back. Sub-zero asks,

“What happened? You haven’t had any problems regrowing any part of your body before.” Havik responds,

“I don’t know, it feels like my powers have been weakened since arriving here. I’m not sure I can regrow my limbs anymore.” After this, they all go around, stabbing the heads of the dead that haven’t already had their heads destroyed or brain trauma. Scorpion asks,

“What is happening and where in the world are we.” The boy in the hat says,

“Welcome, to when the dead have risen. My names carl, that man’s name is Daryl.” He points to the man in the denim jacket, Carl continues, “That girl over there is named Sasha and depending on how long you were watching us, that’s Maggie.” Carl points to a girl sitting and crying over the remains of one of the people killed by the man in the leather jacket. “The girl over there with the sword is Michone” Carl says. “We lost good men today,” carl continued. “Can you help us?” Scorpion replied,

“Of course. What honor would we have if we didn’t help the weak.” Suddenly, they all hear rustling leaves and they see one of the men that escaped however he’d been captured by another man. Carl had a horrified look on his face as he whispered,

“The governor”

“Who?” Sub-zero asked.

“The governor” carl responded. “He drove us from our last home but died in the process”

“Then how is he here?” Scorpion asked

“I don’t know.” Carl replied. “But we need to kill him now, before he c-.” Before Carl can finish his sentence Sub-zero freezes the governor and scorpion throws his spear chain into the governor’s head and rips it from the body.

“Problem solved.” Havik says. Scorpion throws his chain again but this time wraps it around the man that the governor had.

“What is your name,” scorpion growls. The man replies,

“Simon. I’m Negan’s second in command.”

“Who’s Negan,” scorpion asks.

“I’m Negan,” Simon grunts at him. Scorpion looks confused until Carl says,

“They all call themselves Negan. It’s some form of loyalty I think.” Scorpion says,

“I guess Negan was the one who killed all those people. Well if he’s the second in command maybe we can trade for that guy back.” Carl says,

“That guy is my father and the leader of my group. I’ll kill Negan if he kills him.” Scorpion nods. Daryl says,

“His name is Rick. He’s like a brother to me.” Suddenly, the trailer comes back. The same one Negan had taken Rick in. As Negan comes out he is filled with shock as he sees all his men except Simon who was being held hostage to trade for Rick.

“What happened here,” Negan said in an angry booming voice.

“What happened is we saved these people you were killing without honor.” Sub-zero responds. Havik snarls as he looks at Negan. Rick looks just as shocked but does have a look of slight relief when seeing what was left of his group still alive. Scorpion says,

“We will trade your second in command, Simon, for rick.” Before Negan can respond, there’s a giant gold flash and a giant humanoid figure explodes from the trees. Everybody screams except Havik, Scorpion, and Sub-zero who jump back with a look of determination in their eyes. Before anybody can do anything, the titan reaches down and grabs Negan, throws him in the air, and eats him.

“What the f—,” Scorpion is cut off as a man in a red suit shows up and says

“Hey hey, let’s keep this pg.”

“Who are you,” Scorpion says.

“Hi, I’m Deadpool. We aren’t supposed to curse here. The writer needs to submit this to school.” Scorpion stands there confused and asks,

“What?” Deadpool responds,

“Don’t worry about it. You probably won’t survive long enough to know who he is. I’ve seen the story plan.” Scorpion shakes his head in confusion as a man in full black armor from head to toe with a silver visor and a glowing yellow V emanating from the visor.

“Hello,” the armored man says. “I don’t have time to explain my soldier here. However, you want to get home right? Join us and we’ll get you and your allies back to your home universe.” Scorpion responds,

“What do I need to do.”

“Kill anybody who doesn’t have an armor similar to mine.” Without hesitation scorpion turns to Deadpool, notices he doesn’t have an armor, pulls out his spear and chain, and stabs Deadpool through the heart.

“WHAT THE FLAPJACKS!” Laughing, infinite says,

“Not him. One he can’t die. Two he refuses to wear his armor due to that fact.” Deadpool says,

“Oh shut up you genocidal maniac.” Scorpion looks at Deadpool, then the armored man says,

“He’s just a little insane. Don’t worry. My name’s infinite by the way.” Scorpion replies,

“I will honor this agreement infinite. However, should you make an attempt to commit genocide as Deadpool appears to think, I will not hesitate to cut your head off and end all you stand for.” As he says this another flash, similar to when the first titan showed up. This one appears to be covered in some form of armor. He see’s subzero go to attack the first titan. He freezes the entire body and shatters it killing the titan. However the second titan grabs Sub-zero and before he can react crushes him. Blood spilling from its hand where sub-zero had once been. Deadpool says,

“Honestly I can’t remember the story plan but I at least he died when he was supposed to.” Scorpion was distraught as his brother had just been killed right in front of his eyes. What was left of sub-zero’s body splashed onto the ground in all the blood that had spilled after being crushed. Suddenly, chaos sprung. Cracks in reality started appearing everywhere. People that scorpion had never seen before began spilling from them. There was a clown that appeared to be dancing before biting havik’s head off killing him. Scorpion exclaimed,

“What in the actual f—“ Deadpool cut in,

“Hey! I told you we need to keep it clean. He needs to submit this and if I’m guessing correctly this rough draft is already way off the word limit.” Scorpion responds

“I still don’t understand what you’re talking about and don’t care. My brother was just killed before my eyes and a man who should be able to come back from anything is dead from a clown biting his head off.” Deadpool responds,

“Yeah this is kinda dark. I may enroll the writer in therapy after this is over.” Scorpion says,

“Just stop. You need to stop.” Deadpool changes the subject saying,

“Look over there, they aren’t wearing armor.” Scorpion says,

“No. I can’t kill them. I just saved them. That would be cruel.” Deadpool says,

“Fine, don’t go home infinite’s a man of his word but if you don’t hold true neither will he.” Scorpion says,

“Fine.” He walks over to carl, uncertain as to what he’s doing. He draws his sword and as Carl sees what he’s doing his eyes grow wide with fear. He draws his gun but scorpion is too fast. Before Carl can pull the trigger he teleports behind him and uses his spear chain to stab in in the head. Blood splatters from the wound and Carl falls to the ground, dead. Maggie screams and charges at scorpion but when she’s in range Scorpion draws his sword which he had previously sheathed after killing Carl, and partially cuts her head in half horizontally. He see’s Sasha and throws his spear and chain. Piercing her head and ripping it off of her body. Michone draws her sword and briefly duels as the steel sparks but she’s no match for the trained ninja of the Lin Kuei. She’s cut in half vertically at the end of the duel, blood pooling around her halves. Suddenly, a man who appeared to be around five foot three shoots through one of the cracks with fury in his eyes. He shot what appeared to be cables on the trees swinging around using some kind of gear he killed the armored titan with some sort of rocket explosive before it could do anymore damage. Scorpion took his chance and teleported behind him. Scorpion smashed the man to the ground with a swift, fiery, kick. He dropped to the ground and stabbed the man in the chest. Before he could die, the man began speaking Japanese. Scorpion asked,

“Who?” The man, with his last breath said,

“Berahtoldt.” Scorpion turns to Deadpool and asks,

“Who’s berahtoldt?” Deadpool responds,

“Flappy bird!” Scorpion looks confused before Deadpool continues, “berahtoldt Hoover is the holder of the colossal titan. If he’s here we need to kill him before he can transform.” Scorpion was confused but rightly filled with fear. Suddenly Deadpool points to a man in similar gear compared as the man scorpion had just killed. Without hesitation scorpion throws his chain, stabbing Berahtoldt in the head, this time he didn’t rip the head off. Instead he sent a fire ball down the chain and exploded his head. Blood splattering everywhere. Suddenly someone who appeared to be a 9th grade English teacher was running across the battle field however there was a red glow in her eyes. Believing this to be another enemy he sprints forward and cuts her in half, blood and intestines spilling from her body. Scorpion begins a blind rage killing almost anybody in his path blood staining his once yellow suit turning it a dark red. So many bodies of other universally people were littering the ground. Even the clown that had killed havik. Suddenly he sees someone appear through another crack in reality and he charges forward and stabs the man only to realize it was fire god liu kang. Scorpion gasps and says,

“Lord liu kang!” He coughs up blood and says,

“Still a warrior I see.” Scorpion, distraught screams out of devastation. The man Rick walks over. Also devastated, knowing what scorpion had done, shoots him in the head. Blood splattering everywhere he walks off. However, before long infinite realizes how big a mess everything had become and he places a dark purple crystal on the ground. He shoots a dark purple lighting bolt from his finger tips which begins destabilizing the crystal. He calls out to Deadpool saying,

“They’re all dead. We’ll handle the other disturbed timelines later. I just destabilized the crystal we need to go.” Deadpool responds,

“Why can’t we stay, I like this place, it’s chaotic” infinite shoots back,

“It’s chaotic because of what wasn’t supposed to happen. You know no universe is this chaotic.” The blood stained ground near the crystal started getting vaporized and destroyed. “Deadpool! It’s time to go!” Infinite yells.

“Fine, but you owe me a trip the chaos realm.” Deadpool groans. Infinite responds,

“Fine, just come on.” As they leave the entire universe is vaporized by the crystal and destroyed. Not a single trace of the universe was left and where once a mighty universe stood there was simply nothing.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Real Estate Live Show Review: 4/11, Thalia Hall, Chicago

Real Estate's Martin Courtney & Alex Bleeker

BY JORDAN MAINZER

During the middle of Thursday's Real Estate show at Thalia Hall, part of their Infinite Jangle tour, I thought to myself about the New Jersey band, "Are they the millennial generation's version of college rock?" Independent of the extent to which they get played on independent university radio stations--let alone SiriusXMU--Real Estate were at least thinking about their forebears during the making of their latest album Daniel (Domino). Frontperson Martin Courtney cited R.E.M.'s Automatic For The People--which added elements of baroque to the Athens, GA greats' punky folk--when working with producer Daniel Tashian, known for crossing over country singers into the pop mainstream. Tashian encouraged Real Estate, too, to return to their penchant for hooks, and they self-consciously made a comparatively poppy record after years of darker hues, longer songs, and general experimentation. As a result, they, and yours truly, think Daniel is at once their best album yet and their least hyped.

Real Estate's Julian Lynch, Sami Niss, Courtney, & Bleeker

Indeed, Daniel exudes a weightlessness, free of expectations. The songs, more often than not, are about songwriting and musicmaking in an increasingly cruel universe; as a result, the band plays what comes to mind. That spirit showed itself in their show on Thursday. The psychedelia of "Say No More" and bouncy bass and keyboards of "Flower" seemed effortless, the vocal harmonies between Courtney and bassist Alex Bleeker on "Water Underground" natural. Even the songs that missed Justin Schipper's pedal steel from the studio version, like "Haunted World", shined in other ways, Courtney's lyrical delivery reminiscent of power pop greats like Adam Schlesinger. And it appears Real Estate have gotten good at jamming--not indulgent noodling, but true musical chemistry. "Freeze Brain", whose studio version emanated from a hip hop beat drummer Sammi Niss was playing, toed the line between taut and elastic. "This world is diseased but at least we can be here," Courtney sang, evergreen words when it comes to writing, recording, and playing tunes. For what it's worth, the band did noodle a bit while Courtney was switching guitar cables, Julian Lynch's guitar riffing Allman-worthy, but Real Estate remained concise, showing restraint.

Lynch

Best, it seemed just as fitting that Real Estate knew what not to play. Throughout his Apple Music breakdown of Daniel, Courtney remained open about not liking some songs as much as others. Likewise, on Thursday, he knew that switching to a 12-string for Bleeker's "Victoria" or hopping on keyboards for meandering closer "You Are Here" would not have fit within their set. The band played a little more than half of Daniel rather than the whole thing, opting to intersperse their new songs within the highlights of their discography, like Days singalong "It's Real", whose sped up version inspired whoas loud enough to be a soccer chant. Atlas' "Talking Backwards", perhaps the band's best song, which doubled down on the Days formula, was propulsive as ever. Bleeker's "Wonder Years" was wonderfully wistful. "Green Aisles" offered a gentle respite between "Had to Hear" and "Talking Backwards". And keyboardist Matt Kallman shone on The Main Thing highlight "Paper Cup", a song whose glistening synths would perhaps have netted the band an even bigger audience had the album not come out just before COVID.

Real Estate's Matt Kallman, Lynch, Niss, Courtney, & Bleeker

During Real Estate's encore, a few hardcore audience members shouted out requests, mostly from the band's self-titled debut. Eventually, a tired audience member replied, "Play whatever you want!" Courtney said, "I like that person that said, 'Play whatever you want.' That's what we're gonna do anyway." It was a humorous exchange, but one that also ate at the tenor of Daniel. For Real Estate, playing whatever they want is not just a night-by-night choice, but a purpose and a mantra, the very reason for the band's perseverance and thriving in a ruthless music industry and world.

Courtney and Bleeker

Lynch, Niss, Courtney, & Bleeker

[sonicunleash]

💝....so many possible topics i could give so literally just whatever you want, maybe sonic related in some way :)

I think sonic desperately needs to do more crossovers with things that actually like. extend beyond the characters being added i wanna see dialogue i wanna see silly interactions.... unfortunately i think the only instances of that outside of the superstars and olympic games i can think of is that one screenshot of cream talking to that one monster saying something that got turned into a meme (cringeass naenae forgot it) and the. maybe the cookie run kingdom crossover had some story? Mixed feelings on that crossover though honestly because i hate the ppl who run cookie run but i have to admit sonic and tails are very cute as cookies. Anyways mlp sonic idw crossover when. please. please. miku and sonic figure. i just think sonic could be friends with anyone and makes everything just extra delightful :)

Also bonus opinion but desperately silver needs to be utilized more and i mean like actually utilized. sonic forces doesn't count. I think idw sonics on its way but... idk I'd like silver to have a real role in a games story again. Maybe thats wishful thinking but I think if shadow can have significant roles in games where he's not the main protag while not being part of team sonic (06, heroes, battle) then I think Silver could maybe have some time to shine. He's popular enough for it, in my opinion. Idk I MISS HIM.

[royalydamned-archive]

Second Chances 

(Michael Demiurgos x Reader) - Part III

<- Part 2 Part 4 ->

|AN|: The fact that I had no idea what I’m doing when I started this story caught up to me pretty quick. Had to cut this part short becuase I enjoy doing the conversations/interactions a little too much and kinda forgot about the plot. Oops. 

Anyway vibe with me on this, the next part is not going to take months so I won’t forget what I was going for and we might actually progress somewhere. Fun fact, while I do have some scenes in mind, you know probably the same amount of info about what’s gonna happen as me. So that’s exciting, feels like an interactive story. 

-------------------------------------------------------------

The apartment was unbearably hot, damping Michael in sweat, his clothes uncomfortably sticking to his skin. He took off his shirt and pants in a desperate attempt to cool himself down, throwing them over the hard squeaky bed he had to sleep on. Everything there was dirty, and he would rather not touch it till obsolutely necessary, afraid that now, wingless and weakened, he could catch some kind of earthly human disease.

He had stopped counting the hours spent here, knowing too well they will be infinite and his suffering great and long so far from home where he belonged, the Silver City he was meant to rule. The so called 'City of angels' was nothing like it's name, nothing like what his home was, nothing like what would angels actually live in, it made one wonder how it got such a ridiculous name.

From across the room, Michael caught a glimpse of himself in a cracked mirros, the shreds creating multiple images of himself staring curiously at his reflection. He saw the far too despised face, his scars, his crooked shoulders, the dark hair on his chest traveling down to his abdomen and he knew how broken, how imperfect he really was. Too aware of his failure, of the only comparison that came into his mind and he couldn't find the strenght to turn around and take a look at his back.

Since the battle he hadn't looked at them, all it took was not to feel them, to miss their presence and weight on his back, he couldn't bear the sight of the wounds, of the two painful cuts where his wings were supposed to be, and once again he wished for death.

A soft knock came from behind his door and his heart skipped a beat at the possible thought of his brother seeing him in such humiliating state. Anxiously, he creaked the door open enough to poke his head through the small space, looking at you smiling sweetly at his doorstep.

"Michael!" you exclaimed, studying the suspicious expression twist his features.

"Can I help you?"

"What? No, I was headed to town for some lunch and since now that I know you have literally no one around I wanted to ask you to join."

He searched you up and down with his gaze, almost ike he was looking for a secret threat or a weapon hidden somewhere in your clothes, eyes narrowed suspicioulsy. "So you want to spend time with me because you feel sorry for me."

"I might have formulated that sentence better," you muttered to yourself. "No, I came because I wanted company, and you were the first one to pop into my mind."

"Why?"

"Because you're a bit strange, and I really like that."

For a few seconds he stayed silent, only looking into your eyes, expecting you to break and something deep in your mind did start backing up from the intensity of his glare. "Alrigh, come in." With that he fully opened the door, stepping out of your way in an inviting gesture, and you let out a surprised gasp, immediately adverting your eyes to the nearest wall. "Oh God we're...we're naked. Great."

Michael watched your reaction with unhidden interest, wondering what exactly was it that made humans so embarrassed about their own bodies, the anatomy they shared and knew well. Like it was something sinful, forbidden. "It's just a body."

"I would have never guessed you for such a free spirited guy," you chuckled, still refusing to invade his privacy in such a way, no matter how tempted you were to take a peek.

He didn't answer leaving you in his small living room, very similiar and yet so different to your own: darker, gloomier, lonely... it fit him so well as he also seemed too closed off to let any light inside.

"Is your friend not available?" Michael emerged from his room, now completely clothed, maybe even a little too much given the weather. You studied his outfit for a while, the thick suit jacket on top of a grey turtleneck, and furrowed your brows.

"Who?" Your eyes finally returned to his face, as he looked at you in rather impatient question, shoulders still slouched and crooked as yesterday, like he was hiding into himself even as only two of you were present in the room.

"The girl from last time: very loud, does not seem to understand personal  space--"

"Oh, Zoe." Michael nodded, still waiting for your answer, seemigly unmoving yet his arms twitched visibly from time to time agaist his will. "Yeah she's busy, why did you want her to come?" You couldn't imagine the world where someone like the most awkward person you ever met, like Michael, could possibly go after someone so assertive and fun as Zoe. Everything that he could gain with his face, he lost as soon as he opened his mouth.

"No," the angel said quickly, squrming a bit at the thought of another interaction with your friend who reminded him of Lucifer bit too much. "Just made sense in your decision of a companion, the lack of choice."

"If you don't want to go just say so..." you waited for a while to hear his rejection, yet he stayed silent, just looking back at you, almost waiting to make the first move. "So do you?"

"Do I what?"

You rolled your eyes a bit, calming down before you could be rude, and repeated your question: "Do you want to go have lunch with me then?"

"Well apparenlty, that's why I got dressed." You sighed, refusing to carry on the uneccessary conversation any longer and headed towards the door.

"Come on then, follow me." Michael did, quite literally, follow you. Almost the whole time. At first you didn't think about it much, assuming it was because of the lack of space in the hallway and on the staircase, but when you exited onto the street, he still kept behind you with generous space between the two of you. "Do I stink or something?" You turned to him, forcing him to abruptly stop in his tracks right in front of you.

"What?"

"You walk so far behind me like we're strangers, how are we supposed to talk and stuff?"

"What would we talk about?"

"I don't know, our day, the naked man who we passed sleeping on a bench a few seconds ago, the weather? Anything." Michael looked behind his shoulder, almost wincing as his eyes found the man you've been talking about: fries spilled across his hairy chest, bottle of what seemed like tequila in his hand and a baseball cap shielding his eyes from the sun only piece of clothing on his body. The angel turned towards you with visible disgust in his handsome features.

"That seems like a very fruitless conversation."

"Well that," you said with a clear emphasis on the last word and yanked him towards you by his sleeve, receiving a startled sound of protest from his mouth. "Is how friends spend time with each other." Michael's mouth turned into a very uncomfortable grimace as he wanted to argue. "Of course you could just tell me your deepest darkest secrets if that's what you prefer," you interrupted him with an innocent smile.

"Would very much rather be smitten," he answered bitterly, not sparing more than a single glance your way.

"You're always so negative, loosen up a bit." Michael flinched away as you elbowed him into the ribs and shot a glare that could easily make a baby cry. Somehow, you were convinced he did that at some point in his life.

"I'm negative the right amount," he shot back, distancing himself from you a bit to the other side of the sidewalk, bumping into angry crowd as he crossed them their way in the process. It was strangely cute, how awkward he seemed at any given moment. Like it was his default mood, something so consistent it became natural.

The man's face seemed stuck in a permanent scowl as he pulled himself through the hoard of cussing people, limping a bit, his shoulders hunched significantly more than normally. 'Negative the right amount' you thought to yourself with a smile as you watched him and the wrinkle between his brows, how the scar on his face moved and pulled the skin around. Wondering what happened...

"How did you get the scar?" You asked into the short silence. His attention snapped towards you at the question, a single strand of raven hair falling into his face and you had an urge to brush it back.

"My brother disliked sharing a face with me," he answered quietly, it seemed calm, almost too calm, but you saw the way his jaw clenched.

"He--" scarred you? hated you? is comepletely insane? What kind of a brother does such things? "did that to you?"

Michael nodded, curiously watching you from the side observing your reaction, preparing himself for another flow of intrusive questions, but you stayed silent, stealing a secret glance his way every little moment. Maybe waiting for him to tell the story, craving to hear more about the mystery his life seemed to be, and as he unfolded the smallest pieces before you every time he spoke, every time he admitted something under the pressure of your questions, nothing seemed to clear out. It only got darker, more confusing, a deeper pit of secrets.

"I'm sorry you have a brother like that," you said instead, smiling sadly at him, eyes soft in sympathy, and squeezed his hand in reassurance.

The angel was left to stare at you, no words forming on his tongue, yet too many thoughts in his mind. Like the two weren't connected, a tall wall separating them keeping him from saying anything at all. His mouth opened, nothing coming out, no sounds, nothing, far too focused on your hand still holding his, at the warmth it brought him. Michael wanted to hate it, yank his hand away, refusing the comforting touch of anyone, let alone a human, but he would lie if he said he didn't like the warmth of its comfort. He never felt such -- any -- affection before.

"What? Nobody ever held your hand?" you asked teasingly trying to ease the atmosphere between the two of you.

"No," he admitted quietly without thinking, cursing himself right after. 'Weak, sad, pathetic Michael.' The angel heard in his head a voice too familiar for his liking. He might be more similar to the ones he despised after all.

"Oh." It was the only thing you could make yourself say, right words almost escaping through your fingers as you tried to find more to fill the uncomfortable silence.

He could see how you were thinking, countless possibilies of what to do next flowing through your mind, yet none of them seemed good enough. The confusion was prominent as you studied his face and he found himself returing the intense gaze, the darkness of his eyes drinking you in serching for a reaction, almost attempting to read your thoughts. To an archangel you were no one. Another creature, another father's creation and he shouldn't await so eagerly on what you had in your heart.

Since he first came here he noticed the closness humans so casually kept between each other -- the children that held hands as they ran away to play, lovers sharing secret touches wherever they went, parents holding their kids as often as they could. To him it was foreign, obscure, yet the disgust as your skin touched his never came. Instead he wanted to follow it, prolong it.

So he waited, seconds, minutes, each longer than it seemed, but still no sound escaped your mouth. Why did he care so much about your opinion about him all of a sudden? He hated everything about earth, he hated everything that walked its surface, the place of his biggest loss and greatest humiliation, but he couldn't bring himself to think the same of you. Whenever he tried to invoke the hatred in himself he remembered the times you spent together, how the conversations somehow made him forget the spite in his heart.

You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, unreadable tenderness in your eyes, the same look people gave strays shivering in cold, the same look one associated with heartache. It wasn't care, it was pity he disdained.

"Let me treat you then." What?

"What am I, chihuahua in a pink sweater? No thank you." You rolled your eyes, dragging him to a little restaurant, smiling at the waiter who's head snapped towards you after hearing the bell notifying him about your arrival.

"As in paying, Michael."

"Oh," he said, looking at you with clueless dark eyes.

"What did you imagine under--" you stopped yourself, deciding that hearing the answer is not something you really need. "You know what? I don't want to hear it, let's just forget it."

"Agreed, your expressions are really stupid." Both of you got seated at a table, facing each other, Michael leaning slightly to the side uncomfortably bent at an angle. You paid his comment no mind. He was strange, his choice of words something that's better to ignore on many occasions.

Never before have you met such an...eccentric man. People say it's better to avoid likes of his, and many also do without qustion, but you couldn't. You were sure he was harmless, having the intention of hurting you, he would have long ago as he had the perfect opportuity already.

"My expressions, sure." His head tilted to the side at your words, but neither of you pressed it any further.

He was weird -- thanks to his appereance, thanks to the way he acted and behaved, because of the arguments and remarks that sometimes slipped past his lips. On the other hand, you were strange to him. Your human quirks and silly sayings, the obscure habits and weird routines not once awaking question in him, trying hard to grasp the concept of how everything worked in this glorified chaos. You two were being from different worlds, and maybe this was the sign that you were never meant to interact in the first place, but in a world where the Devil is God and demons fall in love, something like your friendship was the most normal of it all.

Your table fell into silence once again, despite the tense situation before, both of you at ease with each other. Michael watched you with curiosity, how you read through the menu, eyes roaming over the pages, biting your bottom lip as you quietly decided on what to pick in your mind. His thoughts went back to his father, how he prided himself in beings with so much free will, the complete freedom of choice in their life, and here they were, struggling to choose a flavor of their milkshake.

How disappointing creatures.

"You've been here before?" you asked him without looking up from the menu a flipped the page with your middle finger.

"No?" Why would he? What would be the purpose? When would he even manage to do such?

"Then how do you already know what they offer?" You glanced at the clossed menu sheet laying in front of him, the obvious question written right in your eyes. Why wasn't he choosing as well?

"Not hungry."

"Then why did you agree to come?"

"Should I have not?" He caught your gaze as you liften it from the paper in your hands, a playful smirk gracing your lips.

"Didn't know you were so witty."

"There seems to be a lot you don't know about me." Michael surprised himself at the boldness of his words, how smoothly they seemed to run out of his mouth, and it seemed like he had taken you back as well. Such a short time, truly insignificant compared all the millenials he had lived, yet something seemed to start rubbing onto him from you. From his stay here.

"Oh?" You rised your eyebrows in challenge and leaned on the table with your elbown, supporting your chin with your hand. "Do talk then. Unravel your mystery."

"I don't want to be the one talking all the time." An amused laugh escaped your throat at the remark.

"I'm sorry I will try speaking up more in the future," you said sarcastically, flashing him a teasing grin as he watched you with an unamused frown. "No, really, please tell me about you."

"Why can't you tell me about yourself instead? I talked enough."

"Maybe, but I'm an open book, you basically know everything about me."

"So am I," he protested. "There's not a lot to know."

"I'd beg differently. You have a scar on your face from your brother, you once called people humans and if I had to guess I'd say you turn into a bat during the night." Michael look at you in confusion, your reference going right past him. You sighed, the fact you had to tell him a lot of this stuff so straightforwardly ruined a great part of the fun. Leaning closer towards him across the table, you looked into his eyes, suddenly serious, and he copied your movement. When the two of you were just inches apart, you whispered: "Are you a vampire?"

He scoffed, both of you returning to sit in your previous positions, the man in front of you squirming a bit after, trying to get comfortable enough to ease the pain in his back. "There's no such a thing as vampires, don't be ridiculous."

"Oh please, don't tell me you're such a buzzkill you don't believe anything." Michael looked almost offended by what you said, opening his mouth and abruptly closing it without a single sound.

"There's nothing more stupid than people who believe in the supernatural, what's next, mermaids?" He threw his hands around, frustration pulling his face like he truly believed you were serious in your friendly teasing.

For a few more minutes, you bickered in lighthearted banter, Michael a bit more annoyed than anyone normal would and you enjoyed exploring the way he reacted to everything. He was slowly starting to get fun.

Tags: @chipster-21 @tea-effect @littlepeanut03 @spideysimpossiblegirl

[takenyoomies]

Takeomi's "Day Off"

Title - Takeomi's "Day Off"

Rated - T

Summary - When Senju said it was his "day off", this was not what Akashi Takeomi had in mind.

Tags - Food, Movies, Wakasa Lock-picking, Swearing, Benkei Slander, Mildly OOC

Characters - Takeomi, Wakasa, Benkei, Senju, Draken(mentioned), Shinichiro(mentioned), Terano South(mentioned)

TWs - mentions of character death

Word Count - 2977

Read on AO3

The evening forecast calls for-

“Rain.”

Thunderstorms until the late evening, and it will then clear up around nine o’clock. Back to you for the local news to talk about how you can protect yourself from-

Click.

Takeomi sighed as he took another drag off of his cigarette, neatly ashing it in a black ceramic ashtray he’d found long ago in the belongings of none other than Shinichiro Sano. With his gaze affixed to the ever infinite tile ceiling, one thing crossed his mind. What was he going to do on his day away from the rest of the members of Brahman?

It wasn’t often that the scar-faced man had a rare “day off,” as Senju called them. He chuckled at the idea as he hadn’t been employed since he lost his ambitions, though all things considered, helping manage the gang members did feel like a full-time job. There was the somewhat apathetic Wakasa, who seemingly followed Senju to the ends of the earth. However, enjoyed the occasional prank. Benkei was pretty hot-headed in their quarrels. However, outside of them, he seemed to enjoy the more minor things...only to also become hot-headed about those too. Takeomi rubbed the bridge of his nose as he remembered the time they went fishing only for Benkei to pick a fight with his fishing pole for not catching him any fish. There also was Senju, his sister, who was calm for the most part until she wasn’t, and it became a game of World War between the five of them as they tried to figure out who stole the last manju from the plate in the middle of the table. And lastly, there was of course the new member of the gang, Draken, who hid mainly in the shadows and made a relatively decent hot curry.

The scar-faced man stood from the well-loved recliner, stretching his back as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer, “Wonder what they’re up to today…” He murmured as he opened the fridge, plucking a silver can from its place on the shelf. He turned his body to walk back towards the living room only to hear the doorbell ring. He froze in place, blinking. No one other than four people knew he lived here, and all four of those people knew it was his day off.

The bell rang again.

He pursed his lips, thinking that perhaps they would go away.

“He has to be home, and he never goes anywhere.” A deep voice stated, almost in annoyance.

“True...I don’t see the point in him going anywhere, to be honest, and it’s raining.” A tired voice replied, almost sounding bored with the situation.

Takeomi huffed, “Oh, so they think I’m a hermit?” He thought to himself, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Well...we could always use...that.” The last voice said, the doorbell ringing one more time.

“Oh! I like that idea.” The deep voice spoke excitedly.

Takeomi blinked, wondering what that meant, only to hear the telltale sound of scratching at his door. He hurriedly rushed over, unlocking the door as he quickly realized what that was.

“How many times have I told you, if I’m not answering the door, don’t get Waka to pick the lock!” He yelled in exasperation as he whipped open the door. Benkei collapsed into the genkan while Senju and Wakasa remained kneeling outside, both looking up at the semi-tired-looking man holding a beer, a cigarette between his lips.

“Oh. Hi Takeomi.” Wakasa finally spoke with a wave, his bored face showing how unaffected he was by the man in front of him.

Benkei groaned as he rose from his position on the floor, “If you would’ve answered the door, maybe we wouldn’t have had to use Waka.” He rubbed his head, “And would it kill you to open the door slower?”

“You act as though I’m some item for you to use when you get locked out…” The two-toned-haired man retorted, standing from his crouched position, patting his pants as he put away the lock-picking kit back into his bag.

The buff man clicked his tongue, “As if that’s the biggest fucking issue here.”

Takeomi sighed, looking at the group in front of him, “What are you three even doing here?” He questioned, noticing the plastic bags, “It’s my day off.”

“Well…” Senju started, standing from her position on the ground as well, “We were going to meet up at the park, but it’s raining.”

“Yeah, I wonder who did that.” Benkei huffed sarcastically, crossing his arms.

“You can’t blame me for the rain every time.” Takeomi pointed out, taking a drag off of his cigarette.

“I can, and I fucking will.”

“Regardless of if Takeomi made it rain,” Senju cut in, looking over at the several plastic bags on the concrete behind them, “Your apartment was the closest.”

Takeomi exhaled, the smoke wrapping around him like the safety he needed in that moment as he paused to think. Yes, he could refuse them entry. Unfortunately, though, that would likely just cause them to force their way in like usual. He sighed in defeat, “Alright, get in.”

Senju smiled, “Yay!” The smallest cheered, rushing into the apartment past Takeomi and Benkei.

“Wait, shit, she’s gonna get the chair!” Bekei roared in sudden realization, attempting to blow past the other man as well, only to be stopped by an arm.

“Pick up the bags and then go fight over the chair. Don’t make Waka carry everything.” Takeomi warned, only to receive a glare in return.

“You do it if you’re so concerned.” He snapped, sliding under the arm that was blocking his path inside and rushing inside, “Hey Senju, you got it last time!”

Takeomi shook his head, “Never changes.” He looked over at the plastic bags that Wakasa was beginning to gather up, “It’s always us, huh?”

“Been that way since…” Wakasa trailed off before shrugging a bit, the lollipop in his mouth shifting, “Take these, and I’ll carry the rest.”

The older man knew what he meant by that sentence and was somewhat thankful he didn’t finish it. Sometimes he wondered if that ghost would ever stop haunting the three of them. He shook the thought as he grabbed onto the two plastic bags, peering into them and noticing the sheer amount of food.

“Just...how much did all of you buy?” He questioned, the cigarette on his lips nearly dropping in astonishment.

A hum of amusement came from Wakasa’s throat, “Senju kept putting things in the basket, and Benkei...Well, you know him.”

“And you?” Takeomi questioned, only to see the two-toned-haired man pull out a bag of lollipops. The scar-faced man's lips tilted into a smile, “How predictable.”

“Please,” Wakasa began as they walked inside, Takeomi could already hear the sounds of an argument, “My simple tastes are far superior to Benkei’s ridiculous tastes in cola-flavored garbage.”

Takeomi snorted, “I didn’t know you had a candy complex.”

Wakasa rolled his eyes, “Is that even real?”

“Beats me.” Takeomi chuckled as they made their way into the living room to see a smug-looking Senju placed in the comfortable recliner and an angry Benkei gesturing.

Benkei groaned, “Like I said, you got it last time so, get up!”

Senju smiled sweetly as she settled herself into the recliner, “No, I’m comfortable.”

You could see a vein pop on the buff man’s forehead, “Oh my god, you’re so!” He attempted to piece together before growling once more.

Senju snickered, “Use your words Benkei.”

“Senju, don’t be mean to the wildlife.” Wakasa sighed, placing the bags on the coffee table.

“I am not an animal!” Benkei yelled in offense.

“Hm. Debatable.” Wakasa shrugged as he sat down on one of the pillows.

Takeomi shook his head, placing the other plastic bags onto the table, opening his beer, taking a sip, and wrinkling his nose. Warm. However, this seemed to get the attention of Benkei.

“Hey, Takeomi, if you’re having a beer, share one with the rest of us.” The bearded man complained, strolling over to him.

“Bring your own.” He breathed, waving his spare hand at him, sitting down at the table beside Wakasa, “You just were at the store.”

“If I remember correctly, you said you were going to bum one off of Takeomi.” Wakasa’s bored voice cut in, exposing the other’s plans as he opened a bag of hard candy.

“I-I did not.” Benkei huffed, crossing his arms and looking to the side.

“I clearly recall you stating, Waka, I’m gonna get a beer from Takeomi, so I don’t have to buy a six-pack! I’m so smart, haha or something of that effect.” Wakasa mimicked the burly man set before himself, popping the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing at him with it.

Takeomi hummed, “Is that right?”

“No way, I would never say that!” Benkei denied, holding his hands up in refusal.

“Senju can confirm it, probably.” Wakasa sighed, popping the sweet back in his mouth.

“Ain’t no way she heard sh-”

“I was in the other aisle. Even I heard you say it, Benkei.” Senju confirmed.

“Okay, maybe I did say that,” Benkei muttered, looking to the side, “But come on, beer is expensive!”

“And bumming it off of me makes that okay?” Takeomi asked incredulously, shaking his head.

“Yes.” Benkei grinned, only to receive a look of disapproval from the man.

Takeomi sighed, “I’d say you’re unbelievable, though this is far too in character for you.”

Benkei snorted in amusement, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Eyebrow twitching, the scar-faced man sighed once more, "If you could stop swearing in front of my sister, that'd be wonderful."

Benkei huffed, "I don't think she minds it."

"Well I-"

Senju waved an arm, interrupting the conversation, “Hey, can you pass me the sour gummy worms?” She asked, as if to ignore the on-going conversation about herself.

Wakasa sighed and looked over to Takeomi, “You’re closer.”

Takeomi stared daggers at Benkei, who shrugged with a lopsided grin. He turned towards Wakasa, “Fine, fine.” Takeomi groaned, putting his cigarette out into the ashtray, “Which bag are they in?”

Wakasa shrugged, opening a can of juice, “Probably the one with the candy.”

Takeomi pulled one of the bags forward, fishing around for the bag of sour candy. “Is this the right bag?” He questioned as he fumbled through the several different types of snacks.

“Probably.” Wakasa’s bored eyes peering over at the man, “Actually, they might be in the other other candy bag.”

Takeomi stopped his search to look up at the two-toned-haired man, “You mean to tell me you have two entire bags of candy?”

The accused party sighed, “Listen, blame Senju for that one.”

“Nuh-uh Waka, you pitched in to at least half the damage!” The light-haired girl chimed in, crossing her arms with a knowing look.

Benkei snorted as he sat down at the table, “And by half, that’d be one bag each.”

“Thank you. I can do basic math,” Wakasa replied, rolling his eyes and pulling the other bag forward. His fingers instantly pulling out the bag of sour gummy worms, much to Takeomi’s surprise.

“How did you…” Takeomi started, only to have the bag of gummy worms flung into his chest, “...Nevermind.” He breathed, standing from his place at the table and walking over to the snowy-haired girl, “Here.”

Senju grinned, “Thanks.” She spoke happily as she grabbed the package of sweets out of his hands, biting open the top with her teeth.

Takeomi sighed attempting to grab the package back from her, “Hey, you’re gonna ruin your teeth like that.”

Wrinkling her nose, Senju looked up at Takeomi, “You’re not the boss of me.” She spoke sarcastically with a slight smile, shoving a gummy worm into her awaiting mouth.

The dark-haired man raised a brow, “...And I’m assuming you forgot that sour food is sour, again.”

Senju’s face had contorted, her nose wrinkling as her lips puckered, “Shut up…” She whimpered, shoving another gummy worm into her mouth.

"You're how old?" Takeomi questioned with an amused smile, as Senju pouted.

"Worst brother ever." She huffed.

Benkei tilted his head over only to burst into laughter, “Happens every time, man.”

“You do the same when you eat spicy food.” Wakasa mentioned as he took a sip from his drink, “Remember the time we ate Draken’s hot curry? You were crying like a baby.”

Takeomi snorted as he remembered the scene, Draken had said he would make them curry since they were eating out too much, and Benkei had been the most excited about it. But, of course, this only seemed to fire up the braid-haired man more when it came to making the curry, so when it came down to them eating, he had even given Benkei an extra serving.

“Do you remember when he took the first bite?” Takeomi pondered as he walked back over to the table, Benkei groaning and placing his head on the table in embarrassment.

“Man, quit it, do you have to?” Benkei pleaded, peeking an eye up towards the man.

“Do you mean the it burns part or take me to the hospital one?” Wakasa questioned with slight amusement.

The buff man grumbled, “I’m going home. This is bullshit.”

“So you can bark, but you can’t take a bite?” Takeomi teased, grabbing his beer and taking another swig, once again scrunching his nose, “This is disgusting.”

“Then why are you still drinking it…?” Wakasa sighed in exasperation.

“Because wasting beer is a cardinal sin.” Takeomi clarified.

Benkei sat up quickly, pointing at both Takeomi and Wakasa, “You know what else a cardinal sin is? Dunking on your homies.”

The two-toned-haired man blinked, before shaking his head and clasping his hands together, and looking directly into Benkei’s eyes, “So is having an IQ of below 70, but we’re still accepting of you, Benkei.” He spoke carefully before downing the rest of his drink, “Alright, are we watching a movie?”

Benkei sat at the table, mouth agape, unsure of what to say or do, all while Takeomi and Senju snickered uncontrollably in the background.

“Sure, we can do that.” Takeomi finally spoke through his laughs, lighting a cigarette, “Though we’re not watching Jurassic Park again and making Terano South references.”

“Aw, come on!” Senju pouted.

“We could always watch Pulp Fiction?” Wakasa offered with a half-hearted shrug.

Takeomi raised a knowing brow, “You just want to say the does he look like a bitch part again, Waka.”

He sighed, “Guilty.”

“What about-” Benkei began.

“No.” Takeomi interrupted.

The burly man huffed and crossed his arms, “But I didn’t even say shit!”

“We are not watching Austin Powers.” The man with the cigarette proclaimed, shaking his head.

“...Fine.”

“What about Goodfellas?” Senju pointed out, swinging her legs from the recliner, “That’s always a favorite.”

Benkei groaned, “We’ve watched that like 20 times, though.”

Takeomi hummed, “What’s 21, though…”

“Waka can probably quote all the lines in that one, too, then.” Benkei thought out loud.

“Did you hear him last time?” Senju asked while tilting her head to the side, “He even did the voices.”

“He wasn’t here last time we watched, remember?” Takeomi pointed out, taking a hit off of his cigarette and exhaling.

“Oh, right!” Senju realized.

“Wait, you mean to tell me I missed Waka doin’ Goodfellas impressions?!” Benkei asked, looking around at the group, “Why did no one tell me!”

“You miss a lot of things when you screw around doing other things.” Wakasa pointed out as he stood, “Goodfellas it is.” He walked over to the bookcase and grabbed a VHS case for the movie.

“The real question is...did we rewind it when we watched it last time,” Senju commented as Wakasa walked over to the television set and shoved it into the VHS player.

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t ha-” It was not rewound, “Goddamn it.” Takeomi huffed.

“Short intermission, I guess.” Wakasa breathed as he hit the rewind button, walking back to the table and plopping down.

The smoking man chuckled, “You know, I didn’t expect to spend my day off like this?”

“Oh?” Wakasa asked, raising a brow.

Benkei snorted, “What, did you expect to sleep all day and drink beer?”

Takeomi rolled his eyes, “No, though that sounds peaceful compared to the mess all of you seem to bring.” He huffed, inhaling the last of the cigarette and putting it out into the ashtray. The VCR clicked, signifying the tape was done rewinding. “I got it,” Takeomi stated as he stood from his seat at the table, walking towards the TV set.

“I guess it is your day off…” Senju hummed, her legs once again moving back and forth as she spoke, “But, we missed you.”

Benkei’s eye’s widened, “Shhh!! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” As he attempted to silence the small leader.

The scar-faced man’s hand stopped as it reached forward. He blinked. They missed him. He felt his heart swell in his chest as a smile spread its way onto his face.

“Hey, Takeomi...” Wakasa questioned boredly after a moment, “Tell me they didn’t take you out with just that?”

“I’m fine.” He responded, pressing play on the VCR and turning to walk towards the light switch. While the smile on his face had disappeared, the warm and fuzzy feelings had not as he switched off the lights. Making his way back to the table, he received an all-knowing look from Wakasa as he sat down.

As the previews for the movie were nearing their end, Takeomi leaned forwards towards Wakasa, attempting not to alert the other two members of the room.

“So, even you missed me?” He questioned quietly as the beginning scene started, the two-toned-haired man not entirely paying attention.

“Yeah, yeah…” the two-toned-haired man dismissed, the piece of candy in his mouth shifting against his teeth.

“Hm.” Takeomi hummed, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the tiled ceiling once more. He could vaguely hear the storm outside over the sound of Wakasa quoting the movie, Benkei’s obnoxious wheezes of laughter, and Senju’s tiny kicks against his favorite recliner that he always gave up to one of them instead to sit on the floor himself. A gentle smile once again made its way back onto his face.

Maybe it should rain more often.

[idesofrevolution]

Here y’all go. Hope you like it.

Look at him, isn’t he adorable? I’d been watching him and his college friends playing ball every Saturday from my balcony. Each time, I’m hearing him talk about “slamming pussy” and “playin’ the game” as if he knows what that means. Jock boys always think the world of themselves, and sometimes for good reason. Every now and again, I look back on my own days at that age, fondly remembering all the bullshit trouble got myself into. I’m telling you- once you hit a certain age, you just want to relive those debaucherous days again; and hearing this little shit wasting those years degrading the ladies... I knew I could do so much better with his assets.

So into my mind popped a little idea. We’re living in a world of infinite possibilities, and using a few tricks and a whole lot of ingenuity you can really access some more unattainable goals. For instance, knowing the local voodoo priestess can be an invaluable advantage. Miss Marie had lived across the hall for as long as anyone could remember, and she had the respect and fear of everyone she met. So for a few hundred dollars and debt or two to her, she gave me a little gris gris which she insinuated could help little old me up my game. 

With bag in hand, I had to make my move. That Saturday I watched with bated breath as the boys were shooting hoops and talking shit until the sun went down. When the streetlamps went on, one by one they departed and left the ladykiller waiting on his Uber. As he sat there flipping through Tinder on his phone, I whispered the incantation that Miss Marie had taught me. Three times I repeated it, never once breaking my gaze on him. Upon the fourth recitation, I saw him suddenly throw his phone on the ground in rage. He tossed the basketball across the street and started to pace back and forth. Calling down to him, I “checked in on him.”

“Hey! You alright?” He looked up to my balcony and grimaced. 

“Shut the fuck up ya fruity bitch! Phone’s dead that’s all! Mind your business!” I chuckled and leaned against the railing, watching my hateful prey unknowingly within my clutches. Thinking his Uber was on it’s way, he sat down on the curb and pouted to himself. Five minutes turned to forty minutes and with his ride nowhere in sight, he played right into my hand. “Ay! Fag! Got a charger or somethin?” A smirk crawled across my face and I waved him over to my building and buzzed him up.

Now truth be told, I had no idea what to expect. Marie didn’t exactly explain how the gris gris would work, nor did she break down how to initiate the plan. So when he knocked on my door, I’d be lying if I said I was entirely understanding of what I was doing. I swung the heavy old door open and there he stood. Glistening with sweat and a scowl on his pretty boy face with his beat up skateboard in tow. 

“So where’s the charger?” He looked me up and down, disapprovingly looking at my big belly and old biker tattoo sleeves. Back in the day, I rode with my crew from coast to coast, fuckin’ every stud, twink, and bear that came my way. But the years hadn’t been too kind to me, and from the look on his face he sure didn’t see me the way that those boys back then did. Convincing myself to swallow my pride, I tossed him an iPhone charger and pointed him to the living room outlet. Plugging it in, he plopped down on my couch, and completely ignored my existence. Muttering under his breath, I could tell his Uber had cancelled.

“You can stay here until your car gets here.” I leaned against the hallway arch, taking in his steaming muscles. He clearly worked out in addition to all the days and hours of basketball. And damn... did he smell like hours of and hours of basketball. It was my favorite scent- raw testosterone, absolute masculinity, untempered musk; and his was STRONG.

“Bet your ass I’m getting the fuck out of your creepin’ ass house when this car gets here.” He thought he was so hood, so badass. He had no clue. Soon, though, he’d learn how to be a real man. Soon he’d be more than just a basic pretty boy frat kid. He started coughing gently, trying to hide it behind his phone screen, but the coughs grew louder and heavier. “Yo, get me some water!” I smiled.

“Get it yourself, bitch.” He whipped his head in my direction and tried to jump up, but realized he could barely move. It was as if he had no breath. “Oh, you’re feelin weak, huh? Why don’t you call your friends and they can come pick you up.” He tried to reach for his phone, but his arm had all but given out. Panic set in behind his cruel, mean spirited eyes and for the first time I saw him for who he really was behind the muscles, good lucks, and put on swagger: a little homophobic bitch who was in over his head. I walked over to him and plopped down on the couch next to him. His smell was strong and virile, full of youthful pheromones that he knew were a gift straight from God. I tested the waters and lifted his limp arm, exposing his wet pits. Assaulted, I tell you, I was assaulted by the sharp fragrance that poured from the hairy confines. He could do no more than a whiny whimper as I buried my nose and tongue into his armpit. 

“Well, fuck, kid. It’s been a fuckin’ bitch knowing you. But it’s gonna be one hell of a good time bein’ you.” I saw the last of his pathetic consciousness fade away. Where it went I neither knew nor cared; all that was left was his empty, hollow husk. Curious, I brought my fingers to his plump lips and pried. A sound I can only describe as stretching elastic rang through the room as I pulled and pulled. Looking inside, he was hollow, albeit padded with slick flesh that outlined his impressive musculature. Letting go, his face snapped back to normal. He was ready.

I eagerly stripped, thinking of all the adventures I could relive from within him; thinking of the numerous opportunities that I could snatch with his glorious body and my confident mind. Laying him down, I stuck my toe into his mouth and pushed. After a few thrusts downward, my foot slid down his throat. It took a solid minute for me to weasel my second foot into the tight confines of his slimy mouth and down his throat, but they were soon both slipping down his torso, through his muscled legs and landing in his tight feet. I was several sizes larger than he, so his tiny size 7s felt like a pair of tiny, wet rubber socks to my size 13s. Yet, after a little adjusting, they looked amazing at my size. I brought one to my face, pressing the damp soles on my nose, taking in the salty, rank funk that emanated from between his toes. I stood up, his mouth around my ankles making my a little wobbly. I grabbed his waist and pulled up, watching his legs slip over mine. The sheer size of my pudgy calves and thighs seemed to be suctioned into his, adding my mass to his musculature. He would be so much better at my 6′2 than his 5′9.

After a hefty tug, my bloated ass was sucked into his, tightening and firming into an ass any stud would kill to plow, and anyone would kill to plunge their tongue into. Sauntering over to my mirror, I saw a toned, gorgeous lower half, with my tubby top pouring over our waist. My cock was pressed tightly against my groin, since I’d forgotten to slip it into his when my ass was... compacted. I stuck my meaty hands beneath our skin and tried to grab my shaft, leading it towards his. The kid wasn’t packin’ anything impressive. I guess his ladies didn’t have high standards for dick. But I’ll tell you when my thick rod was slurped into his, it was like I was thrusting inside the tightest fleshjack I’ve ever used. Looking down, I smiled at a girthy, 10 inch, uncut fuckstick. I swiped my finger underneath my new foreskin and took a deep sniff. Fuck. Yes. It was unreal. The cocksmell was so strong yet so addictive, it was as if it was dripping manliness in odorous form. 

I knew that there was building pressure from within, and that the midsection would be the hardest thrust. So, I readied myself. Getting my footing underneath, I took a deep breath and held it in. With as much strength as I could muster, I tugged upward and my bulging belly was gulped into his skin with a loud “shlorp.” This took my body a moment to adjust, with a hefty beer gut protruding from my stomach, but after a deep belch, a set of washboard abs was there before me. To my surprise, and glee, some of my tattoos had transferred to my new skin, which gave me hope for the sleeves I’d grown to love.

Speaking of which, it was time for me to thrust my arms into his, which seemed entirely easier than my stomach. I slipped on his arms like gloves, the sensation of touch returning to my fingertips as they slipped into his. Looking at the mirror, it seemed only a fraction of my sleeve transferred over. Oh well, better than nothing! His shoulders snapped over mine, and I stood there in all my nude glory- with his jaw around my throat. I was ready. I was so ready to begin anew. I grabbed the jaw, matching his bottom lip to mine, and pulled his face over mine like a silicone mask. It suctioned to my head and within seconds I opened my eyes to a new man. 

I was incredible. My face was an amalgamation of both our likenesses, the best of both worlds. I winked at my new self, testing out my old cocky smoulder. I still got it, and hell, I would be using it a whole fuckin’ lot. A knock on the door woke me from my eyefucking and walked over to the door. Opening it, there stood Marie. She looked me up and down and rolled her eyes.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s a bonafide stud once again.” I smirked, and let her in. “Phew... Boy you’re fragrant. But then again, I’m sure the boys you fuck are into that sort of thing huh?” Smiling, I lifted my arms, and took in my scent. Better than poppers. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? You agreed to the terms, now it’s time to pay up.” I plopped down on the couch, preparing to hear the terms of my debt.

“What you need, baby?” She grabbed me by the cheeks, looking her straight in the eye. All color must’ve flooded from my face.

“Your big blue eyes aren’t gonna get you anywhere with me, son. You are to do as I say, do you hear me?” I nodded silently. “I need followers, boy. Followers. Those who are willing to do what I need done, and in exchange... I’ll add them to your little crew. When I tell you to get something done, I need it done, you hear me?” I nod. “Now when I say go get some more boys, ma cher, you understand what I’m saying, yeah?” I smile as she lets go of my cheeks. “Enjoy your immortality, baby. I’ll be in touch.” With that, she tosses me some clothes as she walks out my door.

It’s been three weeks since that day, and the old man in the flat is nowhere to be seen. His ‘son’ Sebastian has since taken over the lease, and become something of a staple in the community. Always makin the ladies swoon, and the guys drip. Always there to end a fight with a swift K.O. to the chin. Always happy to help a down-on-their-luck neighbor. But most importantly, always looking for new people call ‘family.’

WELP. Introducing a potentially new recurring character: Sebastian the Voodoo King. Let me know what you think of him through asks, and what you’d like to see him to HERE. Have a dope day, kids. Hope this is everything y’all wanted.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Goodbye - Epilogue (Captain Syverson)

MASTERLIST         P1          P2          P3          P4          P5   

A/N: I happy cried writing this. I apologize for it’s delay but sincerely hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy! 

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, language, a hint of smut, more fluffy domestic goodness, reference to PTSD

***********************************

An arid summer’s eve laid upon them yet a welcoming, cool brisk dispersed through the night’s mellow sky. It was one of those magical July nights, a night that didn’t cause you to swelter miserably. At least not as fast as usual. Y/N gazed up at the array of luminescent stars glistening down on her sighing contently. She eyed the big dipper with ease thinking back to every astrological book she’d homed over the three decades.

Her hand grazed her bulging belly soaking in the last days before her son’s arrival. She leaned her head against the cool cushion contemplating the peaceful the evening. Soon her thoughts drifted to her husband, Sy putting their two miracles, Luna and Oliver to bed. Her eldest, Oliver was the definition of a blessing in disguise. Now her baby was five and the celebration of Luna’s third birthday long past. Where did the time go…every mother greatest fear.

Briefly, Y/N closed her eyes listening to the music laced in the wind. Soon they would be outnumbered, something both of them were slowly coming to terms with. Sy cherished the swell of her belly and the fullness of her breasts secretly wishing for as many kids as humanly possible. 

Y/N, on the other hand figured three was plenty but Sy was a tricky one, a handsomely tricky man who worshipped the ground she walked on. A different man from their initially rocky start. Granted, looking back on the beginning of their relationship left a small twinge in her chest, he’d tried his damndest to make it up to her every day since leaving that hospital.

Sy had gone through hell and back clawing his way from death’s vicious grip. Rehabilitation had kicked his ass but he persevered gradually gaining strength after every tedious therapy session. Needless to say, the last couple years weren’t always roses and butterflies. Oh no, there were times when Sy admitted defeat, yelled in unbridled anger, and genuinely resented the cards he’d been dealt.

But it brought them here together, in this moment, forever thankful of their ever-growing family. And for that she would be infinitely indebted for the rest of her days. Thankfully after two intensive years of non-stop motivation and assistance, the only sign of his accident was a minor limp Y/N found absolutely loveable.

Cicadas pierced the silence as lightning bugs alit to life. Sy’s heavy steps protruded along the wood stripped floors making his way towards his magnificent wife. The swivel of the sliding door popped Y/N’s serene daze. A thunderous voice echoed; “Baby?”

Y/N hummed sensing him approach from behind. His meaty hands met the crook of her neck massaging her swollen shoulders. An uncontrollable exhale escaped her.

“Hey good lookin’.”

His lips brushed against her moisturized skin grazing her collarbone before roaming towards the corner of her lip. Taking his own cue, Sy continued his trail of hot kisses down her chest wavering towards her plump breasts. She moaned in pure bliss.

“If you keep that up, you’re going to send me into labor.”

Sy stopped, a chuckle reverberating from his chest; “Ain’t that a good thing?” His Texas twang was the equivalence of freshly churned butter, a noise so familiar her heart still soared to cloud nine.

Choosing to ignore his sass, Y/N found herself staring upwards at the stars and many constellations. Sy’s large frame settled into the chair beckoning her towards the setta lounge chair. Y/N nodded unwilling to deny her handsome husband a minute longer sliding into his lap. His heat immediately emitted to her core warming every bit of exposed skin.

“I see you made it out in one piece?”

Sy’s massive arms engulfed Y/N’s changing body perching his chin atop her shoulder.

“Hardly! If I have to read Uni the Unicorn one more damn time I might have to be committed.”

Y/N jokingly slapped his shoulder; “Oh c’mon. You love seeing Luna’s beaming smile or else you wouldn’t give in to her every night.”

“Sure, she’s cute now but wait til she’s datin.”

“Nope, nope. She’s still gonna be my sweetie.”

Sy considered his wife’s words coming to a conclusion that she was shamelessly right. His girls had him tightly wound around their fingers. He wasn’t your average fool, no he was now a family man fool. If someone told him this is where his life path would’ve led him, he’d have blatantly laughed in their face but now he saw no other future than the one right in front of him. The numerous doctors and therapists saved his life but Y/N truly revived him from the perverse melancholy of PTSD.

The woman who hung the moon, balanced his universe, the woman who miraculously gave life to two healthy children, and the woman he once stupidly shoved aside. That was in the past and for the first time in his life, Sy looked forward to the future, their future.

Together they sat tangled as one listening to nature’s melody. After leaving the city, they’d purchased ten acres ready to rear their children outside of hectic city living.

“Baby, have I told you I love you today? Because if not shame on me.”

“Only bout a million times but who’s counting.”

His arms draped around her waist tenderly rubbing her jutting stomach.

“God, you are so fucking sexy like this.”

“Like what? Bloated and gassy?”

Her sarcasm was undeniable.

“No, horny and swollen with my child.”

“Man, you really know how to get my hormones raging….”

“Seriously babe, I love seeing pregnant. It’s incredibly hot. Bigger boobs, higher sex drive, these curves, I mean who would complain?”

“Ha ha. Well, that makes one of us because I feel like a whale.”

Syverson didn’t miss a beat; “But a very sexy whale.”

“Kids go down easy?”

“If by easy you mean fifteen minutes of reading with light back rubbing, and a fight over that squirrel night light, then yes, they went down easy.”

“Thank you for the peace and quiet. Sincerely.”

“Anything for you, baby.”

“Any more thought on what to name bubba here?”

Y/N caressed her belly protectively searching for catchy names.

“What about… Henry?”

Sure enough, Y/N nodded liking the ring of it; “Henry Syverson. Sounds pretty awesome if I do say so myself.”

He held her jaw lightly guiding her to face him admiring the sparkle in her eyes.

“Well cowgirl, I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I can’t believe we’re about to be outnumbered.”

Her pulse accelerated at the terrifying notion alone but Sy remained calm, cool, and collected.

“Y/N, we’ve got this. You and me, together. We’ve mastered two already, what’s one more?”

Her newfound nerves evaporated. Y/N squirmed trying to stretch her sleepy bones. A sensational moan flowed from his lips. So, Y/N repeated her previous movement wiggling her hips for full effect.

“Darlin, that feels fucking fantastic.”

“Mmm, yeah?

Taking charge Y/N kissed him sliding her tongue along his lower lip. With every passing second the intensity skyrocketed; Y/N passionately kissed him. Syverson devoured her like a man starved deepening the connection. Breathy pants circulated around the air. Before Sy could enunciate another vowel, his zipper was down and Y/N palming his hardening dick. He was damn glad he married a minx. His head back launched against the cushion at the sensation coursing through his veins. Y/N made quick work unbuttoning his pant clasp tugging the offensive material below his knees.

Sy’s fingers danced over her hips clutching at the sheer nightie. Silently taking his cue, Y/N raised to her knees giving him full access. Sy didn’t hesitate ripping the material watching her round breasts shimmer underneath the moonlight.

“God baby. You are gorgeous.”

“And to think you almost passed all this up.”

His laugh was hesitant thinking back on his former idiotic actions. Y/N allowed him a couple seconds of consolation before snapping him out of his self-hatred inner monologue. Her hand gripped his chin forcing his gaze; “Don’t do that, honey. Our past is what saved us. You are the only man for me.”  

He plunged two fingers into her soaked pussy jolting her system. Her hips moved as Y/N fucked herself atop him. Sy watched on in awe basking in marvel.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I gotta be inside you. Now.” Choking out the final word Sy knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate. He teased her clit rubbing his bulging tip teasingly along her most sensitive part. Y/N slid down his thick cock relishing in his fullness.

Every push and pull succumbed to a harder thrust. Sy held on for dear life losing himself in her sweet essence. Fireworks sparked beneath her lids as Sy pulsated within her velvety walls. Underneath the stars, two lovers made love uninterrupted for as long as the darkness lingered. Two mind- blowing orgasms later, two lovers remained intertwined and imperfectly in love.

--------------

“Mommy! Dada!”

Little feet pattered down the hallway nearing with every step. Y/N’s lids were sleep heavy enveloped by muscular arms.

“The rascals are awake and on the prowl.”

“Too awake. It’s Sunday! The day definition of rest.”

“Not when you have kids, hon.”

“Quick! Kiss me before the barge in.”

Sy leaned closer admiring his wife’s morning beauty sealing the deal. Milliseconds later their bedroom door burst open as two little people climbed the chest located at the foot of the bed. Grinning smiles in tow, Oliver and Luna snuggled towards their drowsy parents. Oliver landing atop Sy’s bare chest and Luna snuggled Y/N’s welcoming bosom.

“Mama! You pretty.”

Y/N grinned at her beautiful baby girl wondering just where the little baby she gave birth to went. Her heart ached wanting to memorize every last detail.

Sy’s booming bravado could awaken an entire hotel spinning her kids into endless giggles.  

“Good morning my cubs!”

“Daddy, we’re not cubs!”

“To me you are.”

Y/N shot him a glare; Sy joined in breaking into a fit of laughter; “Who’s hungry?!”

“Me!”

“Me, me, daddy!”

Jumping up and down, they were ready to greet the day bushy-eyed and energetic. Momma was in serious need of a strong cup of peppermint tea.

“But first lemme kiss baby Hen.”

Too distracted by husband caressing her loving belly, Y/N sighed at the newly created nickname.

“Hen, huh?”

His magnetic eyes travelled to hers; “You like?”

“So much. But let’s address the real elephant in the room… What’s for breakfast?”

Oliver continued jumping as Luna squirmed in Sy’s strong arms.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Y/N feigned coyly suppressing her glee; “Hmm, I’m thinkin…...WAFFLES!!”

“My favvvvorite!!”  

Shuffles of tiny feet waddled echoing down the hallway. Sy placed a loving kiss on her forehead; “Take your time sweetheart. I’ll watch the monsters.”

“You’re a godsend.”

“Only for my girl.”

Heavy footsteps followed suit. As much as Y/N treasured the last few months of pregnancy. With that being said she was more than ready to greet her bundle of joy. Out of nowhere a pain shot through her spine down to her pelvis knocking the wind from Y/N.

“Ouch...” She rubbed her stomach; “Hungry little man?”

Again, another kick radiated her body. Y/N ventured forward heading towards the loud noise coming from the kitchen.

Splash. Glancing down, Y/N noticed a puddle between her legs staring wide-eyed; “Shit, shit, shit!”

A dull ache riveted feeling overwhelming pressure on her uterus. Warm liquid dripped down her inner thighs. This could only mean one thing; show time.

“Sy!”

No response.

“Syverson! Get your cute butt up here! NOW.”

Sy magically appeared out of breath, concern written all over his face; “What? What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

With her contraction temporarily paused her brain was able to formulate words; “I uh, believe my water just broke.”

“Holy shit.”

“Language, damnit!”

Sy threw her a stern spirited look; “Hi, Pot. I’m Kettle.”

“Hush it and make yourself useful. Suitcase is in the hall closet by the front door. I’m gonna grab my slippers. Meet you in a jiffy.”

An arm reached for Y/N; “Ah, ah. Not so fast. I moved them two days ago. I had this weird feeling buggin me and well, ya.”

Taking a deep hearty breath, Y/N collected her impulsive thoughts; “Okay, let’s’ get the littles buckled and do this, baby.”

“One sec.”

Locked in his hug, Sy wanted to remember every detail of Y/N, just like this, in the home they built and the family they were blessed with. Words were no longer necessary. But just as quickly, another wave of contractions hit Y/N sending her hurling over.

“Okay, moment over. Let’s get the show on the road.”

And just like that the once too painful burdens Syverson lugged with him the past years vanished never questioning his luck and life again eternally grateful to the woman who simply said I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[joonessence]

The cough drop // jjk

summary: Jungkook enchants you from the second he catches your eyes from the stage of the small venue. You already know you’re gonna be falling in too deep. 

wc: 2,427

tags: jk fluff i guess idk what to call this, band au 

notes: this is way longer than i meant for it to be but it was so fun to write, also let me know if i should make it into a series??? possibly??  part 2 is here!

You had gone to a show with your friends for some unknown band. You’re sitting at a high table with your head supported by your hand; you’d had a long day at work and just wanted to go home. You stared at your untouched drink that had been set there by your friends earlier that night thinking of exactly which pyjamas you were going to change into when you got home; you couldn’t wait. Looking up, someone was already staring at you, eyes partially shielded by his drenched hair. He’s overwhelming from the second you meet eyes.

Your breath caught unexpectedly in your throat causing you to choke and cough. You feel your cheeks burning as you try to regulate your breathing. Once you find your natural state again, you glance up to see him still staring at you but his lips are curled up in a smirk. 

You try to carry on as usual for the rest of the night until it’s acceptable for you to excuse yourself to go home but you feel his eyes on you. You turn to look at him again only to discover that he’s walking in your direction, holding something in his hand. In under a second you decide to act indifferent towards him, already expecting him to pester you. When he reaches you, he taps your shoulder and holds out his hand.

“Here, you looked like you needed this earlier.” His words sound sweet but the sly smile on his face betrays him; it’s not what you were expecting.

You look down in his hand to find a cough drop. Inside, you want to laugh but you can’t give him the satisfaction. You look up with your best blank stare.

“Do you just carry these around so that you have a reason to talk to unsuspecting girls?”

The stranger laughs so loudly at that, throwing his head back and grabbing onto your table to steady himself. When he calms down, he opens the wrapper to the cough drop and pops it into his mouth. 

“No, but that was funny! I keep them for after we get off stage and my throat is scratchy,” he says with the cough drop pushed against his cheek. “What’s your name?”

You’re quiet as you try to analyze him, searching for his true intention behind talking to you. When you’re silent for a beat too long, he continues.

“I’m Jungkook, my band is the one that was playing earlier.” He looks smug, like he’s trying to impress you.

“That’s nice, Jungkook, but if you’ll excuse me I’ll be getting back to my friends now.” You say it like you mean it, but you don’t really mean it. You meet his eyes and he throws his head back again as if you’ve just said the world’s funniest joke.

“Babe, I’ve been looking at you for a while; you’re not even interested in talking to them. I thought I’d come here and offer you my companionship.” He’s still smiling and his eyes are twinkling, you can feel yourself sinking deeper into his charm.

“What makes you think I want the companionship of a stranger,” you point at him, almost poking him in the chest, then move your hand to refer to the other people sitting at your table, “over my friends?”

“Well, by the way you lost your breath when I looked at you earlier, I’d hazard a guess that you wanna talk to me.” He looks so pleased when your cheeks flame up.

“I’ll have you know that I’m getting over a cold and THAT is why I was coughing,” you say hoping he doesn’t see through your lie.

He laughs and puts his hands up, in mock defeat while reaching for something from his back pocket. He pulls out a pen and leans over to the table to scribble something on the wrapper of the cough drop. 

“Well, when you decide you want to talk to me, here’s my number,” Jungkook states while sliding the wrapper over to you.

“If. If I decide to talk to you,” you correct.

He smiles softly and shakes his head, you almost mistake it as an endeared action but you know your eyes must be deceiving you. 

“Okay, if you decide to talk to me, there it is,” Jungkook says as he’s walking backwards to get back to his table, still looking at you. 

You let out a shaky breath, glad that you’re by yourself again. Only, you think to yourself, he wasn’t as bad as you thought he’d be. You know you’ll decide to text him later but what he doesn’t know yet won’t kill him. You finally excuse yourself from your friends, eager to get home and on your drive back you can’t get Jungkook out of your head. His sparkling eyes, the piercings that line his ears, the tattoos he has on display. His image and his words are engraved in your brain.

You throw your keys onto the coffee table when you get back to your apartment and head to your room. You look at the wrapper with Jungkook’s number written on it. Trying to convince yourself that you have no idea why you took it is futile, you know exactly why you did. Against all logic, you take your phone and type a message to him.

[you]: DONT take this as me deciding to talk to you 

[you]: i was just wondering if you could tell your tall buff band member that i liked his voice

You laugh to yourself for a second before worrying he won’t get that you aren’t serious. You set your phone down and try to push down the regret that’s spreading throughout your body. Your phone dings and you reach for it immediately. 

[coughkook]: oooh :( my wounded feelings i’ll never recover

[coughkook]: i won't be tell anyone anything

[coughkook]: but

[coughkook]: you can come to our next gig and maybe i’ll let you talk to him

You roll your eyes at his last message. “Let you talk to him,” you scoff and look at your phone when it dings again.

[coughkook]: it’s next friday at 8 i’ll send the address

You don’t respond after he sends it, wanting to keep Jungkook on his toes. Truthfully, you’ve already decided to go and are drafting up an excuse to cancel the plans you had with your friends.

You don’t talk to Jungkook for the next five days, until you show up to the address he sent you. You take a seat halfway between the stage and the door and look around to find Jungkook on stage with his band members. He’s talking to the buff member you mentioned to him last week, the one you thought was cute but not nearly as enchanting as Jungkook. He spots you and leaps down the stairs of the stage, god he’s so cute.

“You came,” he says with a big, too bright smile compared to the dark atmosphere of the small venue. “We go on in like, ten minutes; I hope you’re ready to be blown away.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. Jungkook needs his ego taken down a notch or two but you still find him captivating.

“Yeah, yeah just go warm up,” you say with false annoyance and send him a small grin.

He runs back to the stage and gives you a thumbs up and that same blinding smile. Your head shakes involuntarily but in your head, you know you’re locked in for good. When the lights to the venue dim even more, you sit up straight to capture every moment of Jungkook while he’s performing. You’re not ready for the next 45 minutes you experience. Jungkook’s voice is so beautiful and so full of every emotion you can think of. You can’t look away even if you tried to. Is it the stage lights or is he actually glowing? His presence overpowers everything. The way he moves with a purpose on the stage, his hand pushing his hair out of his face every so often, his eyes locking with yours. You won’t forget any of it.

When Jungkook and his band are done, he looks to you and holds up his index finger to let you know he’ll be back in a moment. You’re thankful, you feel like you need an infinite amount of time to wrap your head around what happened enough for you to speak coherent sentences. Jungkook walks around the side of the stage and practically floats to you. As he gets closer to your table he points to a full glass of water you had ordered for him earlier with a smile and shoots his eyebrows up, as if to ask if it was for him. You motion for him to go ahead and he downs the whole glass in one go. Endearingly shaking your head at him has become second nature to you by now. He slams the glass down on the table and clears his throat.

“Well?” he asks, expectantly.

“Well what?” you reply knowing what he’s asking for but playing dumb anyway.

“Well what did you think?” you’re silent so he continues, “Of us? Of me?”

“Oh that! Yeah, it was good, I guess.” It was more than good but you don’t want to inflate his already too large ego. 

“Just ‘good’? You were on the edge of your seat the whole time! You basically fell out of the chair!” he says, exasperatedly. He narrows his eyes at you, “I see right through you, you know.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you say and hop off your chair. You push his shoulder to direct him to the table where his band members are. “Aren’t you gonna introduce me anyway?”

He groans but leads you there where he introduces you to them. It’s obvious that they’re more like friends than bandmates. There’s four in the band with him, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin, and two friends Yoongi and Taehyung. You decide within a few minutes you like them all a lot. 

“So you met Kookie at our last gig, right?” Namjoon asks. He’s the buff one.

“Ah, yeah. He bothered me until I gave in and messaged him, didn’t you ‘Kookie’? ” you joke and turn your head to see him roll his eyes and huff.

“Sounds like him, when are you gonna stop bothering strangers?” Hoseok directs to Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe you guys are actually falling for this! I had her swooning for me the second she saw me,” Jungkook retaliates.

You wish what he said wasn’t true but you know it is. And seeing him with his friends doesn’t help the growing feelings in your chest. You spend the rest of the night talking with them and learning every embarrassing piece of information you can about Jungkook, you’ll use it all later. Way too often do you lose yourself in staring at Jungkook. He’s too alluring for his own good. When the night comes to an end, Jungkook offers you a ride home. Normally, you wouldn’t accept but you couldn’t refuse the way he begged you to go with him. In the car, Jungkook complains about how you spent too much time talking to his friends rather than him.

“Wait… did you think I was there for you?” You cover your mouth in faux embarrassment to accompany your act.

Jungkook’s head turns towards you. He’s got his mouth open in shock and he’s trying to come up with words when you take pity on him.

“I’m just kidding, Jungkook. Of course I went for you. You were really good,” you flush pink as you say it but not as pink as Jungkook flushes when he hears it.

“Thank you,” he mumbles and you laugh out loud.

The rest of the ride is spent with you teasing him for getting jealous and him teasing you back for getting so caught up in watching him. Neither of you deny it because you both know you can’t. Jungkook rolls to a stop in front of your apartment building and looks at you.

“I’ll message you when I get home, okay?”

You nod and let out a breathy “okay.” You thank him and tell him goodnight and walk up the stairs to the lobby of the building. You turn to look at him and he gives you a confused look.

“Why aren’t you going in yet?” he shouts.

You laugh loudly. “I wanna watch you drive away!”

He makes a face and you giggle. 

“Get back in your car, Kookie.” You shoo him with your hand.

He laughs to himself and it's his turn to shake his head at you but he listens to your instructions anyway. You watch him drive off until you can’t. You can’t think straight so much that you might as well levitate up to your apartment. Jungkook makes you dizzy. You’re not even sure how you changed out of your clothes and got into bed with less than half a brain left. You don’t wait long for Jungkook’s message.

[coughkook]: i’m home :)

[coughkook]: thanks for coming <3

You smile to yourself and respond wasting no time.

[you]: thanks for inviting me! :)

[coughkook]: come to our next one?

[coughkook]: if you can

[coughkook]: the boys liked you, thought you were funny. they want you to come again

You roll your eyes at Jungkook’s ego again.

[you]: hmm the boys or you?

[coughkook]: the boys AND me want you to come again

Your heart beats faster in your chest. You weren’t expecting Jungkook to be so honest, so quickly. You definitely would go again, definitely will go again, actually. 

[you]: oooh you like me so much

[you]: i’ll come

[coughkook]: ugh

[coughkook]: yes but i know you like me too so we’re even

[you]: hm

[you]: that’s fine with me

[coughkook]: good

[coughkook]:i’ll text you in the morning, goodnight <3

[you]: goodnight kookie

You assume he won’t see it until morning but you send him another message anyway but you’re surprised to see that he responds immediately. Wasn’t he supposed to be asleep or could he not sleep because he was replaying every moment he had with you, the same way you were doing with him.

[you]: i wasn’t sick

[coughkook]: i know LOL you thought i was pretty didn’t you?

[you]: ugh yes but i know you think i’m pretty too so we’re even

Your face burns at Jungkook’s last message of the night. 

[coughkook]: yeah but even if we weren’t even i would still think you’re the prettiest girl i’ve seen

[janedoe-eyes]

Neighbors in a Mask

This is my Secret Santa gift for @theatreandcomicfreak - I hope you like it! I had the help of a wonderful Beta who made this infinitely better😂. Merry Christmas! @maribat-secret-santa-2020 -  I’m also posting it on ao3 😁

“Ok - ok, you can do this! This is just a friendly introduction, what could go wrong? New town, new place, new start.” A wet nose nudged her hand in agreement with her little self-pep talk, and she smiled at her furry companion. Marinette squared her shoulders and knocked on the apartment marked ‘655’, the mantra ‘new town, new place, new start’ ran on repeat in the back of her mind. She fidgeted listening for signs of life on the other end of the door.

She jumped when the door suddenly and silently opened to reveal a man her age - half-dressed, extremely attractive, and wearing the least welcoming glower she’d ever seen.

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I… uh… next door… chest moved in… shirtless - I mean!” She sputtered, face resembling a tomato and she barely managed to grab the plate of macaroons she’d lost her hold on while  she flailed. Holy hell, I haven’t sputtered  this much since…

That thought sobered her right up, and she shook her head to clear the nervous clutter. She took a big breath and started again.

“Sorry - I just moved in next door,” she jerked a thumb to her left, indicating the other condo in the pair. “I wanted to bring these over and introduce myself - I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and this is my dog Squishy.” She gestured to the cream-colored Pit Bull, and he glanced down for a half a moment. “I just moved here from Paris! I’m a fashion designer and novice gardener-”

“Look, I have a lot of work to do,” He cut her off with an exasperated sigh. “I am not interested in whatever you are selling - whether it is a product, business deal, or yourself.” Her jaw dropped. “I do not socialize beyond what is forced upon me by my family - so you have wasted your time. Good day.” He nodded stiffly at her and shut the door.

What the fu…

She stared at the same spot on the forest green door until Squishy whined and nudged her hand. She looked  to see the dog leaning on her leg and slowly wagging her tail.

“Squish… did you hear him say what I think he said?” She asked, looking at the door. She received  another nudge, this time from her purse on her other side.

She peered down to see Tikki’s blue orbs looking at her  with  concern. Marinette  smiled in reassurance.

“I’m fine Tik -  just rebooting.” A small giggle sounded from the bag, and Mari’s smile grew. She gave the door one last look and huffed.

“Oh well,” She shrugged. “Might as well head home.”

She stepped off his stoop and strolled over to her own, her deep red door already decorated with a spring wreath - little ladybugs hidden throughout. She shut the door behind her and caught  the plate  for a  second time when  a black blur zipped right in front of her face.

“Hey Bug, I overheard your  little exchange… want me to phase over and cataclysm his TV or something?”

“Plagg! What have I said about startling me? You’re gonna give me a heart attack!” He ignored her, floating in lazy circles near her ear. She continued to grumble about the cat as she continued to the kitchen - Tikki flying out of Mari’s purse to join her other half.

“No cataclysms!” The Luck God scolded him, crossing her paws. “We can’t risk anyone becoming  suspicious of where the guardian is - anyone who knows  the temple returned will be on the hunt!”

“Please,” Plagg scoffed. “I can pop  in and out without him noticing and not leave a trace - it’d probably at least annoy the hell out of Mr-stick-up-his-”

“As much as I’d like to get him back for his rude  comment - seriously, where does he get off?!” Marinette interrupted with a sigh and a small smile. “Tikki’s right, and it wouldn’t be very guardian or Ladybug-like of me besides.”

“Fine - but the offer still stands.” The little floating cat huffed, flying over to where Squishy cuddled  in her bed by the window, watching her owner for signs of needing her.

It was odd how well the dog and cat god got along - Plagg refused to acknowledge he was fond of the Pit Bull, but they were found more often than not sleeping curled  together on Mari’s bed at night, and Marinette suspected he snuck  her treats.

“As long as we don’t see each other much beyond going in or out of our places - it shouldn’t be a problem.” She shrugged, popping a cookie from the plate in her mouth and handing one to Tikki who happily accepted. “With how ‘busy’ he alluded to being - it shouldn’t be hard.”

*******************************************************************************

Turns out -  easier said than done.

She saw him the next day in line at a coffee shop accompanied by  a man a few years older than him who looked as if  death had warmed over. Mr. Grouchy made eye contact with her and scowled before turning away with a tsk.

She rolled her eyes and focused back on the barista. “Hello,” she smiled as much as she could manage at the buttcrack of dawn. “It’s a longshot, but do you happen to have any ‘Black Insomnia’ or ‘High Voltage’?” The blonde behind the counter paled.

“Not another one.” She whispered, her eyes darting over to the man being tugged along by her neighbor.

Marinette tilted her head in question, and the barista seemed to shake it off.

“We are well stocked with Black Insomnia, what size will it  be and how would you like it made?” She asked, her customer service smile  strained.

“The largest you have - as black as you can make it.” She smiled back and took her receipt, walking over to a booth, overhearing her call out for a “Suicidal Wayne” just as another worker called out for the same drink.

The older boy, the one who looked in desperate need of a good night's sleep, leaned on Mr. Pissy as if he was the only thing keeping him upright - but at the mention of the order, his eyes snapped over to her. He gave her a small wave, and she returned it with a quirked brow. He looked close to  moving  over, but Sir Scowls-a-lot stopped him with a hand on his arm. He spoke in a low voice, and the tired man’s face melted into a mix of disappointment and exasperation. The man shot her an annoyed look and turned back to the front.

She wanted  to go over and demand to know what he could  possibly say   having met her once for five minutes, but the barista called out three names - hers, ‘Tim’,  and ‘Damian’. She walked  up before the two could move and grabbed her cup, thanking the woman, before brushing past ‘Tim and Damian’ on her way out. She was in a rush - there was a show coming up next week and she had fittings all day, she didn’t have time to deal with her asshat of a neighbor and his friend with good taste in coffee.

*******************************************************************************************

As the days passed, they continued bumping into each other. Their dynamic well-past talking, favoring annoyed glares and eye rolls. He wanted to scare her off (the Wayne lawyer way or Robin way - he hadn’t decided yet), but his father and brothers refused - insisting she hadn’t done anything deserving of any kind of action.

Yet. His mind supplied.

There was something off about her - the sixth sense he’d acquired through his life was never wrong, and she set it  off like fireworks whenever she was near. He couldn’t get a read on her intentions, but he wasn’t one to wait for the other shoe to drop - he planned to keep his eye on her.

*******************************************************************************************

He saw her again on patrol a week and a half after she first knocked on his door.

He was in costume uniform tailing a group of five men who  had recently left a warehouse that  belonged to  the Penguin. Red Hood stationed  across the street following parallel to him.

The men turned the corner on Hood’s side, and Robin signaled he would wait until they were out of earshot before grappling over. Hood nodded and continued trailing them.

Robin waited for a beat, then shot his hook out to grab the highest ledge available.

“Shit.” Hood’s voice through his comm made his hand jerk and his grappling hook missed the mark. He released his own curse and reshot as soon as the cable  fully retracted.

“Report, Hood.” He snapped, flipping at the arc of his swing and sailing over the first building.

“They’re targeting a girl - she looks  your age, tiny, at least partially Asian,” Hood grunted lowly.

Damian groaned.

“Acquaintance of yours, Demon Spawn?” Red Hood teased.

“No names in the field, Hood.” He hissed. “And it’s  my new neighbor - she keeps popping up like a bad penny.”

“The one you said tried  to butter you up with cookies, and drinks the same motor oil as Replacement?” Hood asked. Robin landed beside him, leaning over the ledge to watch the girl’s progress as she leisurely strolled down the street with several shopping bags.

“<Tt>, idiot,” Robin muttered under his breath. “That’s her.” He glanced at Hood who nodded.

“You know - I still say you might have misjudged the situation - Timmy said she didn’t seem the cozy-ing up type and seemed  kinda openly pissed at you.” Red Hood mused.

“No. Names. In. The. Field. Hood.” Robin grit out, tired of this conversation - he’d had  versions of it with his family ever since the coffee shop incident.

Everyone insisted the  Dupain-Cheng girl was trying to be nice - but he looked through her records, and found  an unprecedented amount of bullying accusations against her in high school, and she’d quit her job at ‘Agreste’ with no warning - but that was oddly heavily-guarded information. He had been locked out of many of even the simplest social media accounts and public records - especially anything to do with the Agreste brand founder. A  familiar itch on the back of his neck told  him he was onto something big - and his suspiciously friendly neighbor was connected.

Hood took a breath as if to continue the conversation when Robin put a hand up and signaled downward.

They both looked to see the tiny girl turn sharply across the road and into a dead-end alleyway. She’s even stupider than I assumed , Robin mentally groaned as he and Red Hood scrambled to follow.

They dropped to street-level and ran over to the alley, prepared to find the young woman in need of saving, only to see three men passed out near the entrance.  A dented trash lid resting nearby.  The small girl, who looked like Red Hood could lift her with one hand, flipped  a fourth over her shoulder with ease.

“Holy Mother-” Hood gaped at the scene and  sidestepped  the flying body - it landed behind him on top of the others.

Robin didn’t flinch as the man sailed past and ruffled his cape. His eyes were fixed on the girl as she high-kicked the last man under the jaw - knocking him out immediately. He couldn’t stop the words ‘almalak almuharib[1]’ from slipping past his lips in an awed gasp. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.

He shook himself, scowling at the foolish thoughts that rose unbidden. Perhaps she is a shaman or spell caster. That is it - this must be a  spell. He reasoned to himself.

He watched, still unable to move, as the girl dusted off her clothes and reached into her bag.

“Are you two gonna help, or do you plan to stand there with your mouths open like a couple of fish.” She asked as she turned around with a handful of zip ties, eyebrow quirked.

“You have  one hell of a kick, kid.” Red Hood broke the silence, moving forward to grab a few of the proffered zip ties (even though he had plenty of his own).

“It was nothing.” She brushed off the complement with a wave of her hand and a light rose dusting on her cheeks.

Red Hood scoffed, “Whatever kid, that was the most badass take-down I’ve seen in a while - and I know Wonder Woman.” He extended his fist for a bump.

Her smile fell  from her face as if she’d been slapped - her eyes fixated on the proffered fist and starting to water.

“Uh…” Red Hood lowered  his arm, “I ain’t trying to hit you kid… you guys have fist bumps in Europe, right?” He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

“I… It’s nothing - you just... reminded me of a friend.” She whispered, taking in a shuddering breath and turning  sharply to secure the last guy she knocked unconscious.

Robin shared a look with his brother (an odd thing to do through a helmet, but they knew each other well enough for  it to work) and shrugged, before taking out his own zip ties and turning to the pile of three large men.

As they finished  with the other four, Marinette walked past them with her bags and a quick “I’ll leave them to you, then” - and left the alleyway, disappearing from sight.

“That… was weird, right?” Hood said, staring after her. “Shouldn’t we make her stick around to give a statement?”

Robin shook his head slowly. “I think… it would be best to let her go... this time. We have both seen that look before.” In the mirror every time we lost a teammate in battle, he glared   where he’d last seen her retreating figure, and puzzled  over the new information.

“Wait, wait, wait, I agree she can fight  and all, but are you really saying that the little pipsqueak...” He choked out in surprise, Damian could tell his eyes were bugging under his mask.

“I’m not sure, but she’s certainly no average civilian.” He cut his brother off with a shake of his head. “I suggest we keep an eye on her.”

“Hey, if you two have finished your little intrusion into the poor girl’s life and traumas, the police are  a minute out.” Barbra, or rather, Oracle’s voice sounded from their earpieces.

Damian took one last look at where she’d disappeared to before turning away with narrowed eyes and a “<Tt>”.

*******************************************************************************************

Marinette withdrew following  the encounter in the alley - barely acknowledging her surly neighbor, Squishy refused to leave her side, and Plagg and Tikki often needed to call her name several times before she’d respond… The  Kwamii were worried.

“Tik… we only just pulled  her out of the slump she was in back in Paris after…” Plagg’s normally light and expressive face fell, his tail, ears, and whiskers drooping.

“I know… It’s never easy to lose one.” She whispered with a pained wince, past memories flashing in front of her eyes. She floated over to her other half and pulled him into her, petting the back of his head as stuttering purrs overtook  his shaking.

“If she continues to relive it, we’ll lose her too - remember  Keket.” Tikki shuddered at the reminder of the young girl.

“No… we can’t let that happen again,” Plagg growled, the memories of the long lost kitten painful even all these years later. They couldn’t let that happen to Marinette. Tikki nodded firmly into his shoulder.

*******************************************************************************************

Marinette stretched out under a large oak tree in the city gardens, her sketchbook open on her lap and Squishy laid  over her legs - keeping guard. She stared at the blank page with unfocused eyes, memories swimming  in her head out of order and distorted.

“*Sniff* Mommy... Daddy…” A small voice sobbed, pulling her from her musings. She closed her book and set it aside. Squishy took that as a signal to get up and look around, her ears swiveling alertly.

“Where is it coming from, Squish?” She reached  to rest her hand on the dog’s back, Marinette stood  and looked  around intently.

Her dog gave a soft *wuff* and tugged on the leash. Marinette turned and allowed the Pit Bull to direct her. As they neared the bushes the sound came  from, Marinette stopped  short at the sight of a familiar well-kept head of dark hair and moved her and Squishy to peek around them to the bench beyond.

From her position, she saw  her prickly neighbor crouching next to a boy of about five or six whose cries turned into soft giggles as a Great Dane licked at his face, tail wagging wildly.

“Alright Titus, let the boy breathe.” The man grunted, tugging lightly on the large dog’s collar. “Now, have you calmed enough to tell me your name?” He asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, turning his attention to the boy. The kid nodded, sniffing and reaching out to pat the dog - who happily leaned in.

“E-Ethan… My name’s Ethan Sorensen, Mr. Wayne.” He said shyly.

“Ah, you recognize me?” The younger boy nodded, still stroking the dog.

The Wayne Heir returned the nodd. “Good - at least you didn’t talk  to  a complete stranger. You should be more careful though, the world - and this city especially - are dangerous places for someone  young and inexperienced.” He scolded with a frown.

The boy shrunk in, and Titus nudged further into the boy, whining slightly. The temperamental man sighed and hesitantly put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I do not mean to be harsh - I am merely  glad I found you first.” He gave the boy a strained smile and it received a laugh from the kid. His eye twitched in annoyance.

“<Tt>,” He groused, pulling back and taking out his phone. He tapped a few times before placing the phone against his ear. “Gordon, I have a boy named Ethan Sorensen alone in the Southeast end of Robinson Park, have there been any missing child reports?” He nodded at whatever response he received. “Good, let your father know we will wait  for them on a bench... Yes, of course I plan to remain with him! He is no older than six!... Yes, yes, I will stay behind to issue a statement to the officer… Goodbye Gordon.” He hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket before turning back to the boy.

“Your parents are on their way, would you like to play fetch with Titus until they arrive?” He received a shy nodd in return and handed over a yellow batman-themed ball which was enthusiastically chased  once thrown.

Marinette watched a few more throws before retreating to the tree where she had left her bag and packed up.

“So he can be sweet,” she mused to Tikki under her breath.

The Kwamii poked her head out of Mari’s pocket and giggled. “Though he didn’t seem super comfortable with the situation, he went out of his way to be kind to the boy. He stepped  up when needed.”

“Yeah, I guess our grumpy-goose next door can act like a human - now and then.” Marinette laughed, turning toward the park’s exit, a light flutter in her chest  after watching her awkward frenemy do something kind.

*******************************************************************************************

That night, Marinette seriously considered  donning her mask for the first time in over a year.

She couldn’t explain why, but watching Damian’s secretly sweet nature peek through had  lifted her spirits. She felt more like her old self than she had in a long time.

The dark and handsome man was obviously out of his comfort zone in interacting with the boy, but his desire to help another person outweighed his own discomfort. Mari’s guardian senses could see the effort it took to overcome the deep-seated parasitic darkness that latched onto his being. .

Her bones buzzed with an energy that had been absent for  a year. She didn't call for a transformation though - her Guardian duties came first, and she needed to understand the city as a healer before she could take on an active protector role.

Using the recovered energy, she took back up a project she'd been working on - knitting hats, gloves, and scarves with needles Wayzz helped her infuse with a warming charm. She planned to give them away at the shelter she volunteered at on weekends when the weather turned in a few months.

She had four sets of mittens done and adjusted the needles to start on a fifth when a loud crash sounded from the other end of the wall. She jumped up and grabbed the retractable baton she stored in her crafting room, sliding into a crouching position. Tikki and Plagg flew over from the cushion they were lounging on to hover next to her.

They waited in suspense  - listening for clues as to what was going on beyond the wall.

After a few moments, a pained groan sounded along with another, smaller crash.

Was it… her surly Wayne neighbor?

She shared a glance with Tikki and Plagg, and the three nodded. Plagg phased through the wall, and Tikki flew to Mari’s shoulder. An anxious minute later, Plagg returned, stifling laughter with his paws.

“Oh yeah - he’s gonna need some help,” He snorted. “And what is it with you attracting all the weirdos?” He cackled, flying over to the mini-fridge she kept stocked with Kwamii food and phasing through.

“You’ll want to bring the first aid kit,” he continued, exiting the fridge with a small wheel of cheese and taking a large bite before continuing. “Probably keep the baton with you in case there’s trouble - the kid may not be much help  watching your back.”

That snapped her to attention, and she rushed off to her bathroom to grab the enormous first aid kit she collected over  years of hero work. She pulled on a coat - Tikki slipping into a pocket - and shoved her feet into her deep red combat boots, quickly tying them before rushing out her front door and over to the stoop she’d glared  at in passing for weeks.

Marinette  took a deep breath to calm herself before testing the door - which was of course locked. She huffed and pulled out the lock-pick set she stored in the inner lining of her boots. She unlocked  the door after two frustrating minutes - it seemed her neighbor wasn’t satisfied with the standard locks that came with the condos and installed his own.

Once inside, she closed the door behind her and re-locked it  - noticing a blinking red light on a small black box along the side of the door.

Probably a silent alarm, she mused, No matter - I’m here to help and have no intention of harming… Oh geez, I don’t even know his name - what will the police think when they arrive  here?! What names did the barista say  at the coffee house? - Tim and… Damian? Gah! It doesn’t matter - he still needs help! She shook herself and continued along the hallway with the first aid kit in her left hand and the baton in her right - raised and ready for trouble.

“Um… Hello?” She called out, deciding it was better to alert any robbers than to scare her injured neighbor. “It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng - your neighbor next door? I heard a crash and someone in pain, so I let myself in…” Having cleared the first floor, she turned to the stairs at the back of the house past the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne?”

A pained grunt sounded from the top of the stairs and she tensed further, not foolish enough to rush  ahead after the warning Plagg gave  - even if it wasn’t bad enough to insist on coming himself.

“Is that you, Mr. Wayne?” She called, narrowing her eyes as she reached the top of the stairs.

“I...in here...” A deep male voice coughed from the last room to her right, and she heard a low growling as she entered the room.

“I’m going to turn on the light.” She called a moment before she did.

Muttered cursing sounded at the light and drew her eyes to the floor under the window where the young Wayne lay on his side, clutching a gash over his chest, and surrounded by glass. The  man was dressed in a ripped Robin uniform she’d become familiar with due to all the merch that littered the city.

“Oh…” Marinette  whispered, Plagg’s comment on attracting weirdos now making sense. She heaved a deep sigh.

“His name is Titus, right?” The dog twitched at his name, and his master nodded stiffly. “Will he  let me take a look at your injuries?” She retracted the baton and set it on the ground slowly with the kit, keeping her movements slow, and returning to a standing position with her palms empty and up.

“Titus, hda[2].” The dog slowly relaxed his tense position and looked back at the boy on the ground behind him. “Rahab[3].” The man said,  nodding toward her, wincing as it pulled at one of his many injuries.

Though she didn’t understand the language of the commands, their meanings were obvious - she sank to the floor again and turned to her side, slowly offering her hand for the great black beast to sniff. He cautiously approached her and watched her body language intently as he snuffled at her hand - leaving a cool trail behind, which would have made her giggle in  another situation.

Finally deciding to trust her , he licked her cheek and released a whine - tugging her jacket sleeve over to his injured master. She reached back to grab her kit and allowed the dog to pull her forward.

“Where are you hurt most severely?” She asked, kneeling beside him, ignoring the few pricks of glass in her legs as she did so.

“The gash on my chest is the only one that needs looked at immediately... the others are superficial.” He wheezed lightly, his voice strained.

“Was your head or spine injured to your knowledge?” At the slight shake of his head, she carefully slid her arms under him and gently lifted him into a princess carry. He let out an indignant and surprised manly squeak and she tried to hide her smile.

“Your partners, do you want me to contact them?” She asked, entering the connected bathroom and flipping the switch with her shoulder.

“My communicator and tracker are busted - though if you came through the front door, they were alerted and will send someone to check when  I do not respond.”

She nodded and set him into the tub as gently as she could, shooing Titus away from sticking his head in as close as he could get it to the man. She set her kit on the floor and pulled out a pair of scissors. He snorted at the sight.

“Those will not even make a scratch in -” She grinned at his stunned silence as she nearly glided through the material, snagging  a few times on previously patched parts.

“...” He stared at the scissors as she shifted to cut the sleeves. “This is the highest grade kevlar… how in the…” He turned to meet her laughing eyes and quirked an eyebrow.

“I have my secrets,” She gestured to the suit she was tearing into. “And you have your’s.” He pinned her with a look, but she raised her own brow as if to ask ‘you don’t actually expect me to tell you, do you?’

He scoffed and turned to the wall.

She laughed and moved the last of the material out of the way - turning back to her kit to gather her supplies.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me give you any Lidocaine?” He gave her a ‘what do you think?’ look. “That’s what I thought - want something to bite on?”

“I’ll be fine.” He grumbled, turning away again.

“Alright tough guy, I’m gonna just dive in - if you need a break or want to change your mind, let me know.” He nodded, and she threaded the hooked needle, glancing at him once more before starting in.

She was amazed at how little he reacted - a few face twitches at most - and she made sure to get through it as quickly as possible. After tying it off, she cleaned around the wound and taped gauze over it, and nodded to herself in satisfaction.

She turned  to grab more alcohol swabs, only to find the injured hero unsteadily climbing  to his feet.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She asked, exasperated.

“The rest is livable - I will be fine. Thank you for-”

“Thank me when I’m done patching you up, you stubborn fool.” She rolled her eyes, pushing him back down.

“How are you so strong?!” He huffed. “I don’t know of many civilians who could lift a grown man without an issue…” He left the statement trailing like a question, and she laughed.

“I grew up in a bakery - I’ve been lifting bags of flour my whole life.” She shrugged, taping up his finished arm and moving onto another gash.

“Sure…” He scoffed, not believing for a second that was all there was to it. She shrugged in response.

They sat in silence until she finished , tapping on the last square of gauze.

“Alright,” She helped him to his feet  and over to his bed. “Is there anything else you need?”

He shook his head, giving a soft ‘Thank you’ - reaching out to catch her hand as she began walking over to retrieve  the baton she’d left by his door.

“Truly - I… I would have been in trouble if you had not found me when you did. The others are in the middle of a fight and my beacon was broken before I could activate it… there might  still be  time before they worry.”

“Happy to help.” She smiled, patting his arm. He nodded, breaking eye contact again and patting Titus who jumped on the bed  to snuggle  the man.

“By the way…” She started. “What is your name? I know your last name is Wayne - that’s what the boy at the park said anyway, and I think it’s either ‘Damian’ or ‘Tim’ - because those were the names the barista gave at the coffee shop…”

“Wait,” He stopped her. “You… don’t know who I am?”

“Um… should I? The way the boy said it made it sound  as if you’re well known here - but I’m only familiar with Parisian celebrities.”

“Oh, then… I believe I may owe you an apology.” He scratched the back of his head, still avoiding eye contact.

“Yes, yes you do - but what are you referring to?” She started with a irked look, and he had the decency to look abashed.

“When you first came to my door… I thought it another instance of someone trying to get in my good graces because I’m a Wayne. My father and brothers have warned me against social climbers, and I find it best to avoid encouraging them by making my disinterest known right away.” He still refused to meet her eyes and she reached out to touch his shoulder.

She waited until he met her eyes before speaking. “I appreciate and accept your apology, and  I understand. ” He raised a disbelieving brow.

“No,” she chuckled, “Really. Back in Paris, I had a few friends who suffered from  the same problem - an Olympic fencer, a model, a rock singer…” She shrugged. “I get it… but I’d also like to start again if you’re up for it?”

He stared at her for a moment, taking in her sincerity, before he slowly nodded and extended his hand.

“Hello… I am Damian Wayne.” She grinned and grasped his hand.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

*******************************************************************************************

Dick burst into the apartment moments after Marinette returned to her own home - leaving her phone number behind with strict instructions to call if he needed anything. He explained what  happened - causing Dick check for a concussion when he openly admitted to misjudging her - and was taken to the cave.

Alfred was impressed with Marinette’s stitch job, and only needed to re-bandage the wounds he’d checked. His father had interrogated him for several hours when he found out a near-stranger  knew at least Robin’s identity. He was talked down from all-out kidnapping the girl for answers only because Damian insisted on it - and he rarely stood up for his family, let alone strangers. So, they decided to keep a close eye on her when she went out (Damian living directly next door kept them from over-bugging the outside of her home).

They discovered she worked  in a small boutique in the Fashion District, and volunteered  at a shelter. When she wasn’t at either of those places or running errands, she wandered the city for places to sit and sketch. They had the sneaking suspicion she knew of their presence , but hadn’t caught her looking directly at them yet.

They were all  wary of her but eventually  eased up on their suspicions the more they were around the little - but strangely strong - ball of sunshine.

*******************************************************************************************

A few nights later, Damian awoke to the sounds of muffled cries. He instinctively jolted out of bed and reached for the sword next to his nightstand. Listening, he found the sounds came from Marinette’s apartment. He popped open the door to his balcony located  on the same wall as hers.

Leaping over - narrowly avoiding knocking over one of the many pots strewn on  every surface - he slunk over to her door and peeked inside, expecting  a struggle and looking for the best opening to intervene.

What he saw was his small neighbor (friend?) curled  on her bed, tangled in her blankets, with tears streaming down her face. She thrashed, a whimper loud enough for him to hear through the glass slipping through her lips.

He sighed and set his shoulders - he’d seen enough night terrors from his brothers, the Titans, and even members of his grandfather’s League to know he wouldn’t leave her to suffer, but not looking forward to explaining how he entered .

Working on  the simple lock, he slid the door open silently, and closed it behind him, leaning his sword against it where she wouldn’t notice it unless she paid attention. .

A whine halted his approach, and he paused, noticing the butter-colored Pit Bull at the foot of the bed - having obviously knocked off in her mistress’ movement - and reached a hand out. The dog sniffed hesitantly, her tail stuck firmly between her legs, and her ears flat against her head in worry.

“It’s alright, girl, I am here to help.” He soothed, rubbing at her ears until her tail uncurled and began to half-heartedly wag.

“NON!... CHAT!” The girl on the bed sobbed, her arms flailing as if reaching for something.

He was at her side in an instant, grabbing her arms and readying himself in case she fought him.

“Mari!” He called, shaking her none too gently, “Mari! It is a dream! You need to wake up!”

It took several tries, but soon her eyes shot open.

She sat up, latching onto the first thing she found, and as he still held  her wrists, (and her dog was on the floor) he found his arms full of a sobbing Marinette. She gasped, muttering in French  how sorry she was, how she should have been stronger, how it was her fault…

He held her, as his brothers did for him for months after he came back from the pits and awoke from his own nightmares. He started to rock back and forth - smoothing her hair, and she cuddled in closer, her cries pittering out.

The city’s ambience filled the room - interspersed with the slight creaking of the bed at Damian’s continued rocking motion.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” He asked after what felt like both a moment and an eternity.

She hesitated, before starting in a small, frail voice.

He learned  what  transpired in France with the villain the League had been forbidden from interfering with. She told him of  the emotional trauma - having to police your own emotions, watching loved ones be used, watching them die horribly, only to have them come back with no memory of the fact.

And then - she told him about Ladybug.

She didn’t swear him to secrecy or threaten him if he told anyone - it spilled out with everything else.

She had been alone.

As a civilian, she was isolated, and as a hero - she had no one to lean on, especially once  entrusted with the Guardian title. She had only her Kwamii (whatever that was - she made it seem like some  all-powerful sprite) who knew her identity, and she couldn’t properly vent for fear of becoming ‘akumatized’.

She told him about the final battle. How it turned out to be the father of a friend who terrorized  everyone, how her partner had nearly fallen apart in grief - as it was his father - and how her partner, her friend, had died saving her from his father’s blade. The blow caused his own power, a "cataclysm" to defensively implode, destroying everything in the vicinity - even the bearer of the ring. Marinette's saving grace was her own power, the ultimate balance to destruction, which shielded her from the blast.

She sobbed into his shoulder after the tale was done until she eventually fell into a deep sleep.

He set her back into the bed gently and covered her with the blankets. Moving to the chair in the corner he  slumped down,  head in his hands,  absorbing  the emotion and information her story had left him with.

A wet nose nudged his arm, and he looked down to see her dog slowly wagging her tail and giving him sad puppy-eyes. He gave her a small smile.

“It’ll be alright…” He shifted to search for a tag to find  her name - not remembering it from Marinette’s initial introduction.

“It’s Squishy.” A small, high voice called. He jerked his head up to watch a red fairy-bug…thing float down to rest on the dog’s head. “Mari found her rooting through some trash in an alley a week after the final battle - they’ve been inseparable  ever since.”

They eyed each other for a moment before he broke the silence.

“...Tikki… right?” That was the name from Marinette’s story. She nodded, her big sky-blue eyes analyzing  his soul.

“I am Tikki, Kwamii  of Creation and good luck. Thank you for helping my chosen tonight - Plagg and I couldn’t wake her.” She drooped. “This one was particularly bad.” He nodded, and another sprite floated over, this one pitch black with a tail, small pointed ears, and ancient, acid green eyes.

“I’m Plagg - Kwamii of Destruction and bad luck - and I won’t hesitate to cataclysm you into oblivion if you hurt my Bug with the info she trusted you with tonight - or at all, for that matter.” It should have been impossible, with all of his experience, to be frightened of such a tiny being, but Damian found himself shuddering at the fierce protectiveness all the same.

“Understood.” Damian nodded.

“Good.” And just like that, the eyes were half-lidded and looked bored. “Do you have any fancy cheese at your place? The Bug cut me off from the good stuff after I tangled  her  expensive yarn or whatever.” He rolled his eyes and crossed his ‘arms’.

“Plagg! Can you not think of your stomach for once?!” The red sprite cried, exasperated.

“I spent the whole night watching Spots and trying to wake her when the dream started, then I threatened the birdboy - that’s a long time!” He pouted, and Damian huffed in amusement at how much the tiny cat reminded him of Todd’s bottomless pit of a stomach.

“There’s blue cheese and brie in the fridge.” He pointed down and to the side where his kitchen lay, and was shocked as the cat passed directly through the wall without a word.

“Sorry about him ,” Tikki said with a fond sigh. “He’s worried about Mari, and pretending he doesn't care is how he copes.” She took on a serious look and pinned him with it.

“I know you’re  a hero and used to keeping secrets, but the miraculous are the most powerful artifacts in the world. We existed  before the dawn of man, and we will far out-live your kind.” He stared at her, the ancient power from the cat now pulsed  from her, telling him she wasn’t to be trifled with.

“Mari is all alone in this, and we planned  to convince her to seek help from your “league of heroes” soon, so this is not entirely  inconvenient - but she trusted you. She is  gifted with excellent instincts - both as a Ladybug and a Guardian - I don’t oppose her choice, but I warn you - should you cause any harm to befall her, you will answer to me.” Damian shuddered for the second time that night - the second time in years - and nodded solemnly.

“I understand.” She searched his eyes for another minute before her own softened.

“I see  you do. You’ve  endured your own trials.” He looked at the lump on the bed to avoid her stare. “I think you will be good for each other.” She mused, rising from Squishy’s head and floating over to the wall connecting his home to Marinettes’.

“I’m going to make sure Plagg hasn’t eaten everything you own.” She giggled, and phased through the wall.

He released a shuddering breath and slumped down from his stiff position - reaching over to pet Squishy’s head as she leaned in and began to thump her tail against the floor. He smiled softly at the sight and sunk further back into the chair with a deep sigh.

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort through how to help the neighbor he’d assumed was after his money and name. He winced at his previous misconceptions. He  needed more practice at  learning to accurately read people - perhaps he could convince Cass to coach him in nonverbal cues.

He shook his head, helping Marinette build  a support system was top priority. He’d always bemoaned his family getting in his way - but at least he’d never been left alone. From her story, it seemed like she’d run  the entire Paris operation on her own the four years Hawkmoth had been at large.

The first step was to involve  his Father and siblings  - they’d know how to execute a plan  - but he felt it had to come  at her own pace. From what she said, she’d had no choice but to play catch-up during her entire battle - since she was twelve.

He continued to chase his thoughts  in a dizzying dance until he eventually succumbed to sleep, not noticing when the kwamii crept back and snuggled in alongside Marinette.

*******************************************************************************************

Three months later - a tiny girl in a dark red and black ensemble was spotted running on rooftops alongside Robin, Red Hood, and Nightwing, her light, bell-like laughter ringing out into the Gotham night.

The local media pages blew up - the people of Gotham fell  in love with their ‘Ladybird’ and her sweet nature which  opposed the stoic and gruff bats. It was interesting for them to see her banter and fight alongside the other members of the team -  especially Robin, who became  her shadow, rarely leaving her side.

She had several blogs dedicated to her feats and theories about the miraculously healed injuries and repaired battle sites. It didn’t take long for people  from France to find the numerous articles, and start the rumor she was once their ‘Ladybug’, but there was no solid evidence. The two looked and acted completely differently.

Ladybird was free-spirited and light of heart, whereas Ladybug was serious and professional. Many speculated the  Ladybug miraculous  traded hands, but, as there was no supernatural Cat seen, it  remained an unlikely theory.

Unfortunately for the bloggers, it was hard to snag  a good look at the bats, as they thrived in the darkness. Others  commented on Robin’s costume change, but Ladybird’s appearance  took the spotlight.

If they had caught a closer look, they would have found Robin’s red and yellow colors gone , and the forest green was replaced with a more muted-toxic tone. Thankfully, his hood hid the most significant changes as he now sported two small velvet ears that reacted to sound and emotion, and his usual katakana now had a pitch-black blade with green detailing on the hilt.

In completely unrelated news,  the youngest son of Gotham’s resident billionaire was  in the news frequently as he’d taken to hanging around a petite Asian-French girl who was rumored to be a famous designer from France. She was photographed numerous times on outings with Damian and both their dogs - who got  along even better than  their owners.

Due to her kind nature and enchanting  smile, she quickly gained the  nickname  ‘Sunshine of Gotham’ and the tag trended frequently  on Twitter.

During an interview with a fashion magazine, she was asked if she’d ever leave the city of crime, and the answer she’d given was proudly displayed in the Gotham Gazette the next day.

“The people of Gotham have heart and spunk which  can’t be matched - I was welcomed here after a difficult time in France, and I don’t see myself growing tired of being challenged and cared for in the way only Gotham can.”

*******************************************************************************************

[1] Almalak almuharib - ‘Warrior Angel’ in Arabic [2] Hda - ‘calm’ in arabic [3] Rahab - ‘greet’ in arabic

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Ranking

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: Food mention. Possible secondhand embarrassment trigger.

Author’s Note: Fluffy stuff. 

You had never been one for rag mags - celebrity gossip is simply uninteresting at best and horribly cruel at worst - but the bold headline this week on People Magazine catches your eye as you absentmindedly place your groceries on the belt at the supermarket. 

“Seriously?” you mutter incredulously, your fingers wrapped around a bottle of orange juice. 

Is it worthy of a chuckle? Should you keep moving, pretend you didn’t see it? Or... and you can’t believe this thought has even occurred to you... would it be worth the six bucks to bring it back to the compound and share with the rest of the team? The options occupy too much of your brain space as the cashier tells your total, distracting you from the inane tug-of-war in your head. 

“How much?” you say, shaking away the silly predicament for a moment. 

The cashier, hardly older than 16 it seems, points at the screen instead of answering. Before you pay, however, you glance back at the magazine, finally coming to a decision. 

--

The magazine slaps the counter top, its glossy front page gleaming as you unload the rest of the groceries; it gets lost in the vegetables and fruits, the cereals, the junk food... and for a while you forget it.

"Back with the grub, eh, Y/N?" Tony says, swiping up a bag of Doritos and popping it open. "I gotta say, you've done shopping trips quicker than that."

You laugh, gathering all the reusable bags into one and putting them away and say, "Maybe you should don your supersuit and fly over all the New York City traffic if you want it quicker.”

"I believe that would be an unnecessary trip," Bruce mentions from the kitchen table, sipping his tea. 

“Hey, I offered to send someone out to do it,” he replies. “You insisted on doing it yourself, remember? If I recall correctly,” he continues, feigning concentration as he puts on a teasing mocking tone, “you said that you didn’t want to let the fact that you’re an Avenger now make you too... what was the word.... bougie.”

“At least one of us needs to be grounded, Tony.”

Your gaze shifts to Steve as he passes, a subtle smile on his face when he meets your eye; your tummy flutters, having nothing to do with the hunger pang you’re feeling and everything to do with the way Steve’s eyes sparkle in the soothing lighting of the kitchen. You smile back, hoping the burn in your cheeks is obvious to no one but yourself. 

One by one, the team trickles into the kitchen, looking for a lazy Sunday lunch or ingredients for a post-workout smoothie. Your voices mingle together, a pleasant hum in the early afternoon of a rare mission-free, drama-free weekend. 

Or so you thought. 

"I'm not number one?!"

The incredulous shout draws every eye in the room; Tony sits on the counter, eyes wide as he stares into the open magazine in his hand. You giggle, turning back to your lunch, relieved to know you don't have to live with his over-inflated ego for the next century.

"What are you on about?” Thor says, looking up almost mid-bite. 

“This,” Tony replies, shaking the magazine; he flips through the pages, apparently intent on finding his ranking. “It’s the Top 10 Sexiest Male Superheroes, and I’m... not even second... I’m... how am I fifth?”

At this point, you bite your knuckle to keep from bursting aloud with laughter. You lock eyes with Steve, who mirrors your amusement.

“Lang is ahead of me? Are you serious? He’s a goddamn ant! An actual bug!”

“Who’s number one?” Natasha inquires after swallowing a bite of her sandwich.

Tony looks up, annoyed or crestfallen, you can’t tell. 

“Thor, of course,” he answers with a shrug. “Can’t beat a demigod, I guess.”

Thor jumps up from his chair, his arms raised in victory, Clint giving him a congratulatory high five. The kitchen descends into loud chatter, and after many demands to know the full list, Tony gives the magazine up to Natasha, who reads off the ranking. 

“Cap,” she says with a nod to him. “Good job, you’re second.”

“What?” he laughs; if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was humility that makes him say it. There’s no chance that his ranking would go to his head.

“It’s gotta be the beard,” Clint laughs. “Otherwise you would’ve been eighth or worse.”

“It’s definitely more than the beard,” you answer.

Biting your tongue might have been the better option, as now you find yourself the center of some very intrigued attention. Perhaps your tone was a little too defensive, or the blush that certainly feels infinitely hotter now has finally caught flame on your cheeks. Whatever it was that garnered such smirks from around the table, whatever your intentions, your immediate wish is for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

“Care to elaborate on that, Y/N?” Tony asks, seeming to forget his fifth place ranking for a moment in favor of someone else’s total humiliation.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your food, bereft of your hunger. 

“Well,” you begin. “Maybe it has a lot to do with the way he carries himself, you know? There’s a lot of dignity there, a lot of virtue. He’s respectful and honest, stands up for what he believes in. He’s definitely not hideous, either. You know... he’s a - ”

“Y/N,” Steve says, leaning forward in his chair. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s really sweet of you, of course, and I do appreciate it, but - “

“No, Cap,” Tony interrupts. “I think we should let Y/N keep going.”

Your throat closes in panic and you clear it again, getting to your feet as you say, “I’m actually just gonna go.... uh... make a phone call. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Steve chastises Tony as the rest of the team breaks into discussion, but you don’t hear any of it. Soon, you’re in the elevator, bumping your head against the wall over and over, wondering if it’s too soon to pack your bags and leave the team with no notice as to where you’ve gone. You barely register your surroundings until you enter your room, locking the door behind you and requesting that FRIDAY ensures that you remain undisturbed until further notice. 

---

Each time your knuckles meet the leather of the punching bag, your mind gets a little clearer. It’s almost as if all the big and little things plaguing your thoughts settle on the surface of your fists, only to be smashed to pieces when you punch. The nervous energy that settled in you at lunch drives your fists forward, burning off into nothing with every movement you make. 

Midnight was the perfect time to sneak into the gym, to get a workout in without anyone bothering you; everyone usually slinks off to do their own things a little earlier in the evening. Perhaps some have fallen asleep by this time. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing as long as they weren’t around to say anything to you about Steve.

“Y/N?”

Then again... sometimes you’re wrong. 

You halt in your activity, breathing heavily and dreading turning to look at Steve. Your hands drop to your sides as you pluck up your courage, facing the man with a deep breath.

“Hey,” you reply as nonchalant as possible.

“Hi,” he says softly, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants; his eyes fix on yours, drawing you into their depths as usual as he slowly approaches you. “Can we talk?”

The pit in your stomach grows exponentially, making you regret ever leaving your room in the first place.

“We don’t have to,” you answer quietly. “It’s just a silly magazine. It’s not like it’s about anything important, right?”

Facing the bag once more, you resume your activity, hoping against hope that Steve just leaves it there, that he doesn’t press the matter. The very last thing you want to do is spill your guts about what you thought was just a casual crush to the very man you’re crushing on. You hadn’t expected to become so flustered in such a situation, but with the spotlight on you at lunch, it had really sunk in just how much you feel for him. 

“Y/N,” he continues, but you evade him.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, deciding to give up your workout for the night and hit the showers; he’d never follow you there. 

Before you can get too far, though, he says, “That’s why you’re running away from me, right?”

The anger is a surprise, bubbling up as you turn on your heel; perhaps it’s your shield in this moment, a veil to wear to save face. 

“Don’t push it, Cap,” you insist, making one more attempt at escape. Again, however, you’re stayed by his response.

“You’re definitely not hideous, either,’ he says, and you turn to face him once more; he stands there, wringing his hands, an earnest expression on his face. “You’re funny, and whip smart, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. There’s compassion and a goodness that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time.”

Perhaps you’ve hit your head and you’re dreaming this. Maybe there’s a chance you inadvertently ingested some kind of hallucinogen at an enemy’s lair. Whatever it is, there is no way that Steve Rogers is standing in front of you, singing your praises like this. Not in the real world. Never once had you imagined the feelings reciprocated, so this must be a figment of your deepest desires.

“What?” is all you manage to say.

Steve’s brows knit over the bridge of his nose, desperation threading through every feature on his face.

“You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t fall for you, can you?” he asks gently. “That I haven’t noticed you? Y/N, you’re almost the only thing I notice anymore.”

"Well, that's a good way to get yourself killed during a mission."

You didn't mean to say it, and the moment solidifies around you, even the molecules in the air coming to a stand still. Steve’s eyes sparkle, blinking in slow motion as he moves forward. The corner of his mouth twitches upward in a sweet smirk. 

“What a way to go, then,” he says, within reaching distance of your hand. 

“So much for our selfless leader,” you giggle.

He hesitates for a moment, but when you move to offer your hand, he reaches out with his, his fingers curling around yours. The blue in his eyes glints in the low light of the gym, hinting not a single bit of insincerity. 

“There is something wrong with your ranking, though,” you say after a moment, amused at the almost-surprise in his expression as he straightens his posture.

“What do you mean?”

You grin before replying, “You should definitely have taken the number one spot.”

Steve relaxes, chuckling as he glances away. His free hand combs through his hair.

“Over Thor?” he says. “No way that’s happening.”

“Please,” you answer, finding your gumption and pulling him closer; the two of you are close enough to feel each other’s breaths on your faces, “There’s no contest.”

One more tug on his hand and his lips meet yours, hesitant at first, but with a sigh, the pair of you relax into each other. Lips parting, you taste his breath, minty and clean, as his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against his front. 

“If you say so,” he says as he pulls away, gazing into your eyes as he smiles, his expression a little dazed, a little satisfied. 

“Oh, Cap,” you reply, your hand above his wildly beating heart. “I do say so.”

[wavesmp3]

eurydice

minghao x reader - retelling of orpheus and eurydice, steampunk au  - warnings: death - wc: 3.8k - for cwc fall fic fest !

---

minghao hadn’t expected the underworld to be this quiet. although, when he thinks about it, he isn’t sure what he did expect. there’s an eerie stillness in the silent air that drips down his torso and dangles by his feet begging him to stay. be weary of the underworld the guide had warned him it lives to tempt fools like you. 

‘fool’ was the word the guide had used. minghao had denied it in the moment. “love,” he said to the guide, with a determined set to his jaw, “i’m doing this for love.” but now as he wanders the silent darkness and unnatural heat of the underworld with only a lantern to light his passage, he thinks that perhaps the guide wasn’t too far off. for his love made him foolish enough to make a deal with a demon and travel the underworld all in search of you. 

“you came.” you say to him once he finds you with a voice so quiet it almost gets lost before it reaches his ears. you don’t look shocked to see him. you don’t even look happy. in fact, you barely look like you. minghao doesn’t recognize the hollowed shape of your face and the dull line your lips make. he found your body in the darkness, but for a moment, minghao can’t be positive he found you with it. 

“of course,” he gulps, and you don’t make any indication that you’ve even heard him speak. he swallows again and shifts the lantern to his other hand, bouncing slightly on his heels. he fights the urge to shove his fists into pockets, and another, more prominent urge to turn around and run straight for the sun. “you waited.”

“well, yeah,” you shrug, “what else is a dead person supposed to do?”

--

minghao remembers the day you died. remembers it too well, almost. he remembers the ringing in his ears and a hollowness inside his chest. he remembers the way he couldn’t cry. the way he couldn’t feel sad. he remembers hearing that you had died and thinking there was no way in hell he’d let it stay like that. minghao knew, from the moment he heard, that he’d come and find you.

minghao hasn’t cried. but right now, staring at the face of someone who’s been dead for too long, he feels like he just might.

--

“you made a deal with a demon.” you repeat, voice still void of anything sounding remotely like you.

“yeah.” he says, picking at a spot below his chin, faking nonchalance in the same way he would’ve when he first met you. the same nonchalance that you used to poke his side and tease him for. but when he does it right now, you barely seem to register the words let alone the tone of them. “for you. i made a deal for you.”

you nod. “what is it?”

“you get to come with me back to the real world...”

“...but?”

“but you have to walk behind me the entire time. and I can’t look back. not once, not until we’re back up above.”

“and what happens if you do?”

“you die.” he waits a beat. “again.” 

you utter something incomprehensible, a small croak that sounds faintly like a scoff. “kind of like eurydice.”

minghao leans forward. “what?”

you meet his eyes suddenly, as if only now realizing he’s been next to you this entire time. you blink. “nevermind.”

you don’t make a sound after that, don’t even move a muscle. minghao didn’t expect you to be elated, but he did expect you to at least be surprised. and your lack of shock, your lack of… you, creates a knee-deep river of doubt in his mind. “you don’t have to come with me.” he says with what he hopes is reassurance. “i didn’t come here to force you back. i came here to ask.” 

and the silence that comes after he says it stretches into eternity. an infinite eternity that ends the second your mouth twitches, just barely, into what minghao swears is a smile. “you came.” 

he inhales, and the air tastes faintly like hope. “i couldn’t let you go.”

“okay.” you accept, fiddling with something minghao can’t make out in your hand. and the admission, makes him release a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. minghao knew coming down here was a shot in the dark. literally. his friends had made sure he knew. even the guide had made it clear: sometimes the dead don’t want to return. so, yeah, minghao knew there was no guarantee you’d want to follow him back to the real world and no guarantee you’d agree to the demon’s terms. but all that doubt, all those voices telling him no seem so insignificant when he hears you say: “i’ll come with you.” 

you meet his eyes again, and this time they look a little more like yours.

--

throughout his relationship with you, minghao grew fond of the way you cracked your knuckles and joints. it’s stress relief you’d tell him popping your neck for the fifth time that morning. he’d found it odd at first, concerning even. but now days, minghao can’t seem to find the way you crack your back every time you get up as anything but endearing. 

even now, as you pace around the small, tattered couch that you had bought off of the old apothecary owner, cracking your knuckles anxiously, minghao feels nothing more than a small, comforting pang of affection for the way you worry about tomorrow’s work at the plant. 

“it’s a really big shipment,” you tell him, coming around the couch for what he counts as the sixteenth time, “and i’m gonna be running it alone.” 

“you’ve done solo shipments before.”

“not one like this.”

“i think,” minghao says, patting the spot next to him on the couch, “you’ll be fine.” you slump into the couch, the green cloth almost swallowing you whole. 

“yeah,” you nod, leaning into his side, “you’re probably right.” 

“and also,” minghao begins, reaching over to retrieve a piece of folded paper from his coat pocket, “soonyoung gave this to me today.” 

he hands you the ad for a ticket to center circle. tickets to center circle are hard to come by and expensive to buy. but minghao figures if he pitches some money in, you’ll have just enough for a one-way ticket there.

you study the ad for a while, running your finger against the crease in the paper. minghao shifts uncomfortably in his seat while you do. 

wordlessly, you fold the paper back up and toss it on the coffee table. 

minghao gulps. “you don’t want it?”

“i don’t need it anymore.” you shrug. 

“but it’s your dream.” he insists, hoping his face doesn’t give away how happy he is that you want to stay in ironport. 

burying your face against his body, you murmur, “dreams change.” 

this time, minghao doesn’t hide his elation at the news.

--

the walk to the real world begins quietly. 

“do you remember the myth of orpheus and eurydice?” you say from somewhere behind minghao, voice quiet and yet far. and yes, it must be far because the words sound like they’ve been echoing off the rocks and stones for years. 

“remind me.” 

“from what i can remember, they were in love.” you wait a moment, and minghao could bet that if he turned around right now, he’d find you somewhere far behind him, cracking your knuckles. “and when eurydice died, orpheus convinced hades to let her go on the same terms as your deal with the demon. or something like that.” 

“i see,” minghao whispers. “so what happened when they made it back to earth?” 

“that’s the thing,” you say, this time nearly yelling the words, “they didn’t. orpheus looked back at the last second.” 

minghao stops walking. “well, that’s not going to be us.” 

he hears you sigh. “i know.” 

minghao starts walking again, holding up the lantern that emits just enough light to see his feet and nothing else. “so why’d he look back?” 

“i don’t think the myth really says. some say he got impatient. others say orpheus began to doubt that eurydice was actually behind him and then also doubt that hades would ever let her go. but I think they’re all wrong. maybe he looked back because eurydice asked him to.” 

the implication makes minghao gulp. “why would she do that?” 

you don’t answer the question. “why do you think orpheus turned?”

“i don’t know.” 

“turn around and you will.”

“that’s not funny.”

quietly, you say: “it wasn’t a joke.” 

minghao pretends to not hear. 

--

when minghao realized he loved you, it wasn’t something big or spectacular. it wasn’t a tidal wave of emotion that crashed and dragged him below the tide. rather, it was a small wave of adoration that lapped by his feet, a cool and calm sensation that made him want to dig his heels in the sand and wade further into the water. 

when minghao realizes he loves you, you’re sitting on his kitchen counter, complaining about work. 

“i love you.” he admits, walking towards where you sit. he doesn’t miss the way you still and the way you refuse to look anywhere but at your own hands. and minghao knows it’s too soon, too fast. it’s only been two months since he’s known you. one month since you started dating. he knows it’s too soon to have fallen in love. but that doesn’t really change the fact that he has. he repeats it, feeling a deep need to cement this moment further into his memory and another to memorize the image of you sitting on his kitchen counter smiling at your hands. 

“for real?” you mutter, biting back either a smile or a laugh, minghao can’t be sure which one. he nods, wrapping his arms around your waist. you crack a lone knuckle. “well that makes this awkward, and i really hadn’t planned on telling you liked this but,” you hold up your left hand, the ring that’s usually on your middle finger now fitted around your ring finger, “i’m actually married.” 

“really?” he leans back. you give him a sympathetic nod. “to who?” 

you switch the ring back. “oh well to the music of course.” 

“yeah,” minghao laughs, leaning forward until his forehead is pressed against yours, “i’m definitely in love with you.” 

you don’t hide the smile this time. instead you take his face between his palms and press your lips to his. 

it’s three weeks after that moment in his kitchen, that you return the statement, although you don’t return it with the words themself. 

he meets you on one of the benches outside the warehouse after work. when you see him approaching, something seems to visibly soften throughout your entire body. you pull him down to sit next to you on the bench, wrap your arms around his torso under his heavy coat, and bury your face into the space between his shoulder and his chest. 

minghao’s surprised by the gesture. you were never one to initiate affectionate and even less likely in public. he places a kiss on your temple. “you okay?” 

“i had the worst day at the plant.” you mumble into his coat. 

“do you wanna talk about it?” 

“no,” you hesitate as if deciding what it is that you do want. after a moment you answer: “i just want you near.”

--

“do you feel that?” minghao hears you ask. 

“feel what?” 

“the rain?” 

he holds out his palm and stares at the darkness above. how could it possibly rain in a place like this, minghao wonders to himself. 

“no.” he finally answers. “i don’t feel anything.” 

“it’s pouring!” he can’t tell. he doesn’t hear the rain, doesn’t hear the thunder you claim to have heard. but he hears your voice, and it sounds warbled as if coming from behind curtains and curtains of pounding rain. he can tell you’re yelling to be heard over it. “you still don’t feel it?”

“no!” he yells back.

“i’m tired.” 

“we’re almost there.” he says to the darkness that stretches before him, praying that it bounces off the emptiness of this world and finds you. “we just have to make it through the night.”

“no, minghao, i’m tired.” you repeat frustrated. and with the way you say it, minghao isn’t sure what exactly you’re tired of.

“do you remember your first storm in ironport?” he asks, a desperate attempt to take your mind off the current storm, and another, more hopeless try to make you miss home. 

“yeah,” you murmur, voice no longer a desperate yell. and yet somehow, minghao hears you better now than he did before. “how could i forget?”

--

the day of your first ironport strom is also the day of you and minghao’s first kiss.

in all transparency, minghao hadn’t noticed the dark clouds gathering above and the distant rumbling coming from the farmlands in the west. he’d been too distracted with watching you nod off during the trolley ride back from the warehouse, too distracted trying to make sure your head stayed perfectly balanced on his shoulder. 

but by the time the trolley does squeak and stutter to your stop, it’s pouring. you slowly get up and hover by the exit, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “i bet you hadn’t insisted on taking me home now.” you say between a yawn.

minghao shakes his head and joins you by the exit, wearing a smile that feels too bright against the weather outside. “make a run for it?” he suggests. 

you scrunch your nose and crack your knuckles. “yeah, okay.” you find his hand, and fit it against your own. “ready?” 

minghao swallows the fluttering in his stomach. “ready.” 

despite the running and shocked yelps, you’re drenched before you even make it to the end of the street. and it’s sometime after the second turn that you both give up entirely, jumping into puddles at the corner of rosebud and kicking water at each other. 

“look,” you exclaim, pointing at the sky, “there’s a break in the clouds.” minghao looks up at where you point. ironport is known for its ferocious storms with dark grey and angry clouds that tumble across the sky and linger there for days on end. minghao, living in ironport his whole life, has seen his fair share of the town’s storms, but this, minghao has never seen. over the farmlands, the clouds part across the sky and a golden light comes pouring over the grassy hills. and for a small moment, gazing upon the sky’s golden spotlight, minghao lets himself believe that the heavens are real. your voice comes out low. “it’s beautiful isn’t it?”

his eyes land on you. “yeah, it is.”

and minghao’s so lost, mindlessly staring at you that he almost doesn’t register the way you stare back at him with a lopsided smile, grab his color, and pull him towards you until his lips meet yours. 

almost.

--

“still raining?” minghao asks, just to check if you’re still behind.

“yeah.” 

“you must be drenched.” 

“i am.” you pause. “and cold.” it must be a test, minghao thinks. or a trial of some sort, because how is he supposed to not turn around right at this moment and give you something to make you warm. with a sinking feeling that never seems to diminish in the underworld, minghao trudges on through the dark. he’s pulled out of his thoughts when you ask: “how do you know you’ve made a mistake?” 

he tilts his head at the question. it’s an odd question, yes. but something to pass the time he assumes. “you know the sensation you get on the air lift right before the drop by the watchtower.” he waits for some affirmation that you’ve heard. it never comes. “it feels like that for me. like a rock in my gut. i know i’ve made a mistake because i feel the wrongness of it.” 

you let out a small cough. “do you feel that right now?”

“no.” something akin to fear settles underneath his tongue. “do you?”

--

it’s after you’ve been in town for a month that soonyoung asks if you and minghao are friends. minghao doesn’t think to mention the way you two have been hanging out at the warehouse every day after work or how much he enjoys talking with you. it doesn’t phase minghao to describe the lack of air in his lungs each time you’re so much as mentioned or the smile that appears whenever you’re near. instead, he shrugs, and says, “yeah, i guess we’ve gotten close.”

--

“it stopped raining,” you murmur softly, sounding close. so close minghao thinks he can smell the rainwater dripping from your clothes and hear your arms flailing in the darkness. it takes a moment for him to realize, you actually are. 

“when did you get so close?” 

“oh, minghao,” you smile, or at least he imagines you do, “i’ve never been far.” 

--

the second time minghao sees you is not a coincidence. he’s been spending every evening at the warehouse since your first conversation together, hoping at some point in the night you’ll walk in with the other plant workers. until finally one night you do. 

“small world.” he begins, meeting you at the bar. 

“yeah,” you reply, and a sudden warmth fills minghao when you purse your lips, as if there’s a private joke hiding behind your teeth. “we’re all closer than we think.”

--

the first thing minghao thinks when a sort of warmth fills his body, is that there’s a fire growing in the dark abyss that is the road between the underworld and the real one. 

it’s only when he hears you say, “minghao is that the…?” does he realize that the warmth lingering in his fingertips is from the sun. the world around him is still entirely dark, the only light being from the lantern still. but before minghao sees the light of the sun, he can feel the sunlight and taste it on his tongue. 

“it’s almost over,” he says to the new warmth in his knees and to you who’s now so close behind him.

you don’t respond. and some small part of minghao that’s buried under oceans of grief and love, knows what the silence means. a miniscule, almost negligible, part of minghao knows how to interpret your lack of response. 

but the larger, more intruding part of minghao that can’t bear the idea of letting you go, selfishly asks, “what about your dream? what about center circle?”

you sigh, and it’s the first sound you’ve made since noticing the sun. “oh minghao, i stopped caring about center circle the day i met you.”

--

the first time minghao sees you is at the warehouse. and as soon as you enter with the other plant workers, minghao knows you’re new. he can tell by the way you talk, with an accent that sounds too western to be from around here, and from the way your face is the only one he doesn’t know. curiosity is what he tells himself and soonyoung when asked later that week. minghao approaches you at the warehouse bar because he’s curious. although, curiosity doesn’t begin to explain the churning in his gut and the chill running down his spine as he does. 

“hey,” he greets, resting his elbows against the bar. “i’m minghao.” 

you study him before answering, as if determining whether you should even bother with giving him your name. lucky for him, you do. 

“you new around here?” he asks, despite knowing you are. the polite thing to do, he figures. 

“what gave me away?” you snort.

“ironport’s a small town.” he shrugs, with a degree of nonchalance that doesn’t at all match the current pace of his heart. “the people that are born here tend to die here as well.” 

“not me.” you mutter, shaking your head. “i’m certainly not dying in ironport.” 

minghao seats himself on the barstool next to you. “is there a preferred place of death then?”

“center circle.” you tell him, as the barkeep slides you your drink. “it’s been my dream since forever. i’ve worked my way up from the wallows to the plains and now finally to ironport. if i die before getting to the center circle, i’ll walk there from hell myself.”

“that’s a bold dream.” he responds half-teasing, half-not.

you take a long sip from your drink. “i know.” 

“and yet?”

you meet his eyes steadily. “and yet i can’t let it go.” 

at the bottom of his gut minghao again feels curiosity tug.

--

“minghao,” you breathe, so close he can feel it on his shoulder. “come back to me.” he doesn’t respond, acts like he doesn’t even hear the words. instead, he steps forward, feels the warmth of the sun on his cheek, and then sinks back into the cool sensation of your forehead knocking against his neck. 

“come back to me, okay?” you repeat into his back. “but don’t come back too soon.” 

“and you’ll wait for me?” he asks, yearning for nothing more than to turn around and kiss your eyelids and nose and cheeks and lips. wanting nothing more than to turn around and memorize your face in all the ways he forgot to do while you were alive and on earth. 

“well yeah,” you smile against his shirt, “what else is a dead person supposed to do?”

and for a small second, relishing in the sensation of your chest shaking with laughter against his back, minghao feels at peace.

“so have you figured it out yet?” you start, lifting your chin from his shoulder, and interlocking your fingers with his. “have you figured out why orpheus turned?” 

“no.” he returns, with a squeeze. 

“but i’m about to find out.” 

--

a/n: kind of a mess of a fic at this point, but idk also i may or may not have edited this one bit ... 

[randomsevans]

Positions

Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/n I dont make smutts but I know that this would be amazing that way . But I'm sorry I dont do them but i hope some REALLY FLUFFY ransom will do for now

Remeber you can send in a song request with a character

Requested @cheeseburgersstuff

Heaven sent you to me

I'm just hopin’ I don't repeat history

You had have your heart broken way too many times for you to remember. All by the same fuck boy types . You had promised yourself that you would mature up and not meet and fall for any other fuck boy . Just at that time you made that promise you had no idea that the biggest rickest trust fund fuck boy was about to woo his way into your life. And make you fall harder and fast then anyone else .

Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday

Then make a lotta love on a Monday (Ah, ah)

Never need no (No), no one else, babe

’Cause I'll be

The sun blazer threw the curtains as you stared at the ceiling. Remeber the events of last night . It had been a nice Sunday evening that you , Ransom and his grandfather was spending together. You had tried to make it a regular thing so Ransom could began to build a relationship with his family . He didnt want to do . Hi REALLY DIDNT WANT TO .but he would do it for you . So you thought you start with the person he hates the last and already has a decent relationship with . Harlan . It was about the 4 vist you think. And you were all laughing away at Harlan telling a story about baby Ransom on how he would run around the halls but naked (no change there ) and how his mother would just send the maid after him.

You hadn't meet the famous Mrs Linda Drysdale and your not sure if you want to . Sure shes your boyfriend mother and you still havnt meet her yet after a year . But by the stories she was no good women . Which seemed strange as Harland seemed as nice as anyone and although Ransom isn't perfect. God knows that. He has a good heart .

The laughing was cut short and there was a slam at the front door and a "Father !"

Ransoms eyes nearly pop out of his skull as his shoulder tensed up. While Harlan only took a deep breath before saying "in here " you heart stopped there and then . Oh no

"Arrr there you are.. Hugh what are you doing her e ?" A tall women with short hair and black formed glasses come stomping in the room .

Ransom pulled a face at the name but then quickly responded with "what does it look like I'm spending time with my grandfather "

Linda only chuckled and made her way over the three chair we were in "what you ran out of your monthly allowance already ?" She laughed at her self . Unknownign to that yes Harlan in a way was giving Ransom money now but instead of allowance he was now working in blood like wine .

Linda come and stood right in front of me her smug smile wiped of with a nasty look "theres no need for you here get back to work while a speak to my son and father "

You were in shook did ... did she think you were the help . You didnt know what do other then to stand up as you did a hand caught your wrist .

"I dont think so baby sit back down " Ransom said softly his eyes looking up at you untill he turned to his mother.

"And you never speak to HER that way again "

Switchin' them positions for you

Cookin' in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom

I'm in the Olympics, way I'm jumpin' through hoops

Know my love infinite, nothin’ I wouldn’t do

That I won't do, switchin’ for you

You felt bad after then with Ransom taking you home you told him after breaking down that if he didnt wont you know more he could let you go . Ransom broke at your words . And told you time and time again how much you mean to him . He showed you to

You went to turn over after beening lost in your morning thoughts it wasnt till now you realised that the sheets next to you were empty. With a fuzzy mind and bed hair you quickly put on a rob and checked the bathroom . No he wasnt in there . Maybe his office no . You decided to go downstairs and as soon as you stepped foot onto the steps you smelt it. The sweet smell of pancakes .

As you reach the final steps and rounded to the kitchen you were quickly lifted of your feet and put onto the cold counter.

"There she is .." Ransom said softly moving your hair out of your face "hows my princess this fine Moring ?" He asked with a wink untill his face dropped in panic "sore ? Did I.."

"No no I'm fine ..." you quickly said placing a hand on his chest to slow his heat beat he admitted once his actually calmes him down . "I'm just hungry " you giggled .

"Oh well good . See I thought the smell of pancakes would get you out of bed ?"

"Did you actually cook these ?" You asked

"Of couse " Ransom answerd rather quickly

"Like in the kitchen with floor and eggs ..."

"Yes in the kitchen..... and well with a packet but I had to add water so ..." he had a pout as he was waiting approval

"Looks like your switch positions Ransom " you giggled

Perfect, perfect

You're too good to be true (You're too good to be true)

But I get tired of runnin', fuck it

Now, I’m runnin' with you (With you)

As you both sat silent eating away stealing glance at each other once in while like two teenagers with a massive crush. Ransom realised that for the first time ever in his life he was in love and there isn't nothing he wouldnt do.you for . Posistions and all . Your perfect for him and his perfect for you . His fuck boy days were well over the minute he met you he should of know he was a gonna then. But as he sat there looking at you bed and your morning glow Ransom made a promise he would have a perfect morning like this as often as he could with you till his dying days

Switchin' them positions for you

Cookin' in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom

I'm in the Olympics, way I'm jumpin' through hoops (Jumpin', jumpin')

Know my love infinite, nothin' I wouldn't do

That I won't do, switchin' for you (Ooh woah)

Cookin' in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom

I'm in the Olympics, way I'm jumpin' through hoops

Know my love infinite, nothin' I wouldn't do (I wouldn't do)

That I won't do, switchin' for you

[mydogisveryadorbs]

perfect | jj maybank x oc

summary: She’s the kook princess. He’s the pogue prince. They weren’t meant to end up together, but unexpected things can sometimes turn out perfect.

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drugs and drug addictions, mentions of sex and nudity, angst, fluff, not completed

(gif credit to the owner)

intro prologue part one part two

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

Gracie was awakened by the sound of a rooster.

The second she opened her eyes, an intense pounding filled her senses. She blinked a few times trying to remember where she was. 

It was then that she felt the strong weight of an arm wrapped around her waist. Gracie quickly snapped her head around, expecting to see a nude Rafe Cameron. She was pleasantly surprised to instead see a nude JJ Maybank.

The memories of last night began to fill her head. She had been drunk enough to sleep with JJ but not quite drunk enough to forget.

JJ’s mouth is slightly open, his soft snores filling her ears. Gracie has a sudden itch to reach out and trace his features. She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts.

Looking around, Gracie tries to figure out where she is. She's in a bedroom. Definitely a boy's bedroom on the cut. JJ’s house? Truth be told the girl knew little to nothing about the boy with his bare chest pressed against her back.

Turning her head to the side, she notices her phone sitting in the nightstand next to her. Grabbing it she turns it on to see that it's only 7. It's early for her, but she knows her parents will be awake when she gets home.

Gracie gently peels the blonde-haired boy’s arm off her waist, slipping out of the bed as quietly as she can.

The brunette girl doesn't do one night stands, so she's not sure how this is supposed to go. She figures, however, that it's best if she leaves before JJ wakes up.

Gracie slips on her clothes from the night before. She's slipping on her skirt when her foot gets caught and she bumps into the night table with a thud. JJ groans rolling over, but he doesn't seem to wake up. Gracie lets out a sigh of relief, quickly gathering her things.

On her way out, she spots a picture of what looks like a young John B and his dad. Okay, so this is John B’s house.

The crowing of the rooster grows instantly louder as the girl makes her way outside, trying her best not to wake anyone up.

Truth be told, Gracie has no idea where she is. It's not often that she finds herself alone on this side of the island.

Looking down at her phone, Gracie notices that there is no service. Lifting her head back up, she guesses that she walked in the opposite direction from her house last night. She tries to retrace her steps, eventually making her way to the boneyard. Gracie notices how peaceful the place looks without anybody there and she realizes that she has never been here in the morning.

Finally relaxed, Gracie begins to think about everything that happened last night. Talking to the pogues, getting hammered, fighting with Rafe, and, well, JJ.

She feels her cheeks warm and her stomach turns to jelly as she remembers the night the two of them shared. He was sweeter than she had expected, constantly praising her and telling her how much he was enjoying himself.

“You're doing so great, Gracie.”

“Mmm, that feels so good, pretty girl.”

“You're gonna make me c-”

Gracie feels her cheeks burn as she quickly shakes her head, trying to get the blonde surfer out of her thoughts.

It happened, it was amazing, but it's never going to happen again.

The green-eyed girl sighs, heading off in the direction of her figure eight home.

By the time she makes it there, it is almost 9, and her feet aching. Slipping in the front door, Gracie tries to make her way to the stairs without being noticed by her parents.

“Grace Rose,” she hears the shrill voice of her mother call from the kitchen.

Biting her lip, Gracie walks towards her voice with a sheepish smile on her face. When she enters the kitchen she sees her mother, father, and younger brother all sitting together at the breakfast nook.

“Grace Rose,” her mother questions with narrowed eyes, and Gracie prepares herself for the lecture to come, “Where are you headed so early in the morning?”

The question causes Gracie’s eyebrows to pull together in confusion.

“And didn't you wear that skirt yesterday?” her father asks, causing her to look over at him.

Realization dawns on the girl after her father's question.

Her parents didn't even notice that she didn't come home last night.

“I-I'm not going anywhere,” she says with a broken voice, “I-I…” She doesn't finish her statement, tears brimming her eyes as she rushes up the stairs.

“God, that girl gets more and more hormonal every day,” she hears her father say.

Gracie quickly runs up the stairs and down the hall, slamming her door behind her without missing a beat.

She falls to her floor, crying her eyes out with quiet sobs.

Why was she crying so much lately? Maybe she is just hormonal. Or maybe it's because your parents don't even love you. 

The thought causes her tears to fall more and more rapidly. She thought that her parents yelling at her constantly couldn't get any worse, but what she didn't know was that them not caring at all was infinitely more painful.

It's because you're not pretty enough. Or skinny enough. I mean how could an ugly fat ass like you be loved.

Gracie wraps her arms around her stomach, suddenly feeling very sick. She runs to the bathroom, barely making it before she empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet. After flushing, she looks up at herself in the mirror. Her hair is messy from her endeavors last night, eyes puffy and red from crying, mascara smudged slightly under her eyes. Gracie wishes her cheekbones were higher and that she didn't have so many freckles littering her face. 

Her phone buzzes on the counter and she picks it up to see a text from Sasha.

party at the cameron's tonight!

Gracie feels her eyes well with tears again. She definitely doesn't have it in her to party again tonight. Especially if it's at the Cameron's. She knows it will be hard to get out of sleeping with Rafe tonight and doing so will definitely cause a scene.

sounds great! meet you there at 8?

The girl feels like doing nothing today. After getting a confirmation text from Sasha, Gracie changes into a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable tank, slipping into the covers of her queen size bed. If anyone asks she will tell them she spent the afternoon working out and tanning, not going back and forth between watching The Office and Criminal Minds and eating Skinny Pop.

Gracie starts getting ready around 6, straightening her frizzy hair and doing her makeup to perfection. You almost can't tell that she has cried three times in the last two days. She slips on a silver embroidered lace dress with an open back and grabs a matching pair of stilettos. Without bothering to say bye to her parents or tell them where she is going, the girl slips out of her house without a word. She slips into her black Range Rover, knowing that drinking is out of the question. Especially not after what happened last night.

Cars are lined down the street when Gracie pulls up in front of the Cameron house, music and shouts filling the air.

She walks past groups of drunken teenagers puking in bushes, trying not to make eye contact with any of them. She fiddles with the ring on her pointer finger, anxiety bubbling in her stomach once again.

Gracie quickly finds Sasha and Emily by the bar, ordering a Shirley temple.

“Come on, Gracie,” Emily says, pulling her and Sasha out to the dance floor. The sight of sweaty teens grinding on each other makes the girl cringe, but she brushes it off.

She lets herself get lost in the music, closing her eyes and swaying her hips. When her eyes open again, they are met with a pair of cerulean eyes watching her from the bar area.

Gracie quickly wonders what he is doing at a party like this, but she remembers hearing that John B is dating Sarah Cameron now. 

She excuses herself from Emily and Sasha without breaking eye contact with the blonde-haired boy. Adding a little sway to her hips, Gracie walks in his direction only to be cut off by a large body.

“Gracie,” Rafe says and Gracie has to hold back a groan. His eyes are red-rimmed and the reminisce of white powder resides on the tip of his nose.

“Rafe.”

“You look hot, baby girl,” the coked-out boy says with a smirk, slightly slurring his words, the nickname making Gracie gag. 

Gracie sighs. “Look, Rafe, I'm not interested.”

Rafe narrows his eyes taking a step forward, causing the girl to step back away from him.

“What is going on with you lately,” Rafe says, his voice rising several octaves. “You've been a real bitch recently.”

Gracie looks around, noticing a few pairs of eyes starting to look their way. “Calm down, Rafe,” she says in a whisper yell. “You're causing a scene.”

Rafe takes another aggressive step towards the girl. Gracie starts to feel trapped and her breathing begins to speed up.

“Fuck yeah I'm causing a scene,” he says pushing her shoulder harshly, causing her to stumble backward into a random couple who groans.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls, placing a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Don't touch her.”

“Stay out of this, pogue,” Rafe says the word with such venom that Gracie knows a fight is coming.

Gracie steps forward towards the two fuming guys. “Guys, stop,” she pleads.

“Yeah, you heard her,” Rafe says without looking at her, stepping towards JJ with his fists clenched at his sides. The people around them are all looking over, seeing the commotion.

“No, Rafe,” Gracie says, her voice turning more hostile as the anger starts to build inside her. “I’m talking to you. You're being an asshole.”

Rafe snaps his head to look at her, his pupils are dilated and his face red with anger. Gracie has never seen him so furious and it is honestly starting to scare her. “What did you say, you fucking bitch,” he seethes at her, spit flying.

“Don't talk to her like that, asshat,” JJ steps in front of her, harshly pushing Rafe away from the girl.

Rafe takes a step towards JJ and Gracie is sure that a fight is about to break out. The two boys maintain eye contact, both of them puffing out their chests and if it went for the current situation Gracie would laugh at their actions. After a few moments, Rafe steps backward.

“That whores not worth the trouble anyway,” Rafe says with a smirk.

“Hey,” JJ steps towards Rafe, but Gracie wraps a hand around his bicep, holding him back as Rafe walks away. As soon as he disappears into the crowd, JJ relaxes turning around to face Gracie, his gaze softening at her worried eyes.

“You okay?” he asks softly. The girl looks around and sees that people are still looking at them.

Gracie straightens her back, rolling her eyes. “I'm perfectly fine, Maybank,” she says with an attitude, “So if it's fine with you I'm going to get a drink.” She walks away with her head held high, but instead of heading to the bar area, she turns making her way to the bathroom down the hall. She's been to several parties here so she knows where some things are.

Locking the door behind her, Gracie sinks down against the wall, letting everything that happened sink in. A few seconds later she hears a knock on the door and she quickly tells the person that the bathroom

is occupied.

“It's JJ,” the muffled voice says from the other side of the door. Gracie quickly stands up wiping away the few tears that had slipped out.

Opening the door, the brunette is met with his ocean eyes.

JJ steps inside the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him before turning back to face the girl. Gracie feels herself fall apart in front of this boy. She blames it on the fact that she was craving comfort and he happened to be there.

Her eyes well with tears and her hands reach to cover her face. “Hey, hey,” JJ says awkwardly, wrapping his arms around the crying girl and patting her back gently.

After a few moments, Gracie pulls away, regretting it as her arms grow cold. She wipes her eyes with a small giggle. “Sorry,” she says, not meeting his eyes and JJ responds, telling her it's okay, “I guess everything going on just caught up to me at once.”

“Yeah I bet it's hard living in the biggest mansion on figure eight,” he says sarcastically, causing Gracie to frown. Is that really what he thinks of her?

“Anyways, we need to stop meeting like this,” JJ jokes, causing both of them to laugh. When their laughter dies down an awkward silence fills the bathroom.

“Why'd you leave,” JJ asks quietly, breaking the silence.

Gracie looks at him with confusion. “What?”

The blonde boy scratches his neck awkwardly, not looking up to meet her eyes. “This morning,” he explains. “I had a good time last night and, ya know, you kinda just left.”

“Oh,” Gracie says in a surprised tone, eyes widening a little bit. 

“Yeah, oh,” JJ says, turning around to walk out of the bathroom.

Gracie bites her lip. “Wait.” JJ turns around to look at her, raising his eyebrows. She clears her throat. “Well, to be completely honest, I've never really had a one night stand.”

It's JJ's turn to look at her with surprise.

“Oh, don't look so surprised. I know the rumors about me,” Gracie says with a scoff, “but anyways, I guess that I just didn't know how those types of things typically work.”

JJ smiles softly or the girl. “Well,” he says, taking a step closer, “If it was just a one night stand… then I guess you leaving like that wasn't a problem.” He takes another step forward, now almost chest to chest with Gracie, causing her to let out a small gasp. “But, I was hoping this wasn't just a one-time thing.”

Gracie gulps, quickly composing herself.

She smirks, leaning in so her lips brush JJ’s, not fully pressing them on his. “Why don't you get me out of here,” Gracie whispers in a sultry voice as a piece of his wavy hair falls onto her forehead, ticking her.

JJ lets out a breath, his eyes scanning her face. “God, you're so beautiful.” Gracie’s stomach fills with butterflies at his words. He grabs her dainty hand in his calloused one, their rings pressing against one another as they walk hand in hand.

The blonde boy leads the two of them out the mansion and Gracie points out her range rover telling him that she will drive. JJ looks at her questioningly. “Don't worry I haven't been drinking,” she says.

JJ hums in response, “I better drive just in case.”

Gracie looks at him for a second before tossing him her keys, as they each walk around to their sides of the car.

“You better not crash my car,” she says with an eye roll.

JJ salutes her as he presses the ignition, letting out a breathy sigh. “Honestly,” he whispers, making Gracie look over at him, “I just really wanted to drive your car.”

The two of them laugh as JJ pulls out, driving towards the chateau. As soon as they arrive, the pair of hormonal teens clamber out of the car, kissing each other sloppily as they make their way inside.

Gracie notes that the actions feel familiar to her as JJ lowers her gently into the bed, kissing her passionately, but the girl wouldn't mind them becoming even more familiar.

✰⋆✰⋆✰⋆✰

[twokinkybeans]

because you asked for prompts: could you write about peter asking tony about what he likes in bed? like peter thinks tony is too focused on him and wants to please tony too (maybe if you could add a daddy kink too that would be nice but u can decide the kinks!)

2266 words! I went crazy with this one omg. I never intended any smut to happen, but hey, here we are. :P I hope you enjoy it! <3 -Lien

Warnings: Adult Peter Parker, smut, pure fucking filth, kink discussion, negotiated/under-negotiated kinks, dom/sub, daddy kink, praise kink, hoodie sex, mention of master/slave dynamics (not practiced), pet names (ranging from sweet to filthy), anal sex, coming untouched, cock warming.

...

It’s been about four months since Tony and Peter started dating. They took it slow at first. However, from the moment they had sex for the first time, they could barely let go of each other anymore. Every waking and sleeping minute was spent together and more often than not, Tony worshipped Peter’s body with the sweetest, softest kisses and touches. Life was good. Yet. Peter wanted more out of it.

Their sex was soft and vanilla. Even… Cute? Peter liked it, but sometimes Tony let go just a little bit. And those were the times Peter came the hardest. He knew Tony constantly held back. That he hid something from Peter. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to make Tony feel just as good as Tony made him feel. Possibly even better. If only Tony would tell him…

It was a brisk spring morning when Peter draped himself over Tony on the large sofa. The man was reading something. Whatever it was, it was utterly unimportant now. Tony tossed the Stark Pad aside and smiled down at his lovers face. Peter’s curls were weighed away from his face by gravity as he laid flat on his back, head resting on Tony’s legs.

“Hello there,” Tony cooed, gently pushing his fingers through Peter’s hair.

“Hiii.” Peter had a mischievous grin on his face, which made Tony cock an eyebrow.

“What are you plotting?” Tony scoffed a laugh at Peter’s faux-innocent doe eyes.

“Nothing, nothing,” Peter chuckled. “I just, y’know, might be a little hard right now.” The comment ignited Tony’s insides and he leaned in over Peter’s face a little.

“Oh? Are you?”

“Mhm.” Peter pressed up to give Tony a quick peck on the lips.

“You’re insatiable,” Tony groaned with a smile, pushing in to kiss Peter more deeply. The younger man opened his mouth to grant Tony access.

It’s not long before Peter’s seated on top of Tony, gently rubbing their crotches together while moaning into Tony’s mouth and fluttering his eyes with each rut.

“T-Tony?”

“Mm?” The billionaire couldn’t reply properly with Peter’s tongue pushed between his lips. Peter took his hands out of Tony’s hair and rested, stopping his movement altogether.

“What do you like?”

“…You?”

“No- no, I mean, in bed. What do you want me to do to help you lose your mind?” Tony pulled back and stared at Peter with wide eyes.

“Peter, I-“

“No excuses, Mr. Stark.” Peter moved forward again to breathe into Tony. Their noses touched and their gazes were locked. “I think you like it a little more rough. Hm? Am I right?” Tony huffed out some air, confirming Peter’s suspicions without actually saying anything.

“What if I hurt you?” Peter couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that.

“Hurt me?” Peter shook his head a little. “You’ve seen the hits I can take. I’m Spider-Man. How could you ever hurt me?”

“I know, I know, you just… You look so fragile.” Tony pursed his lips and bit the inside of his cheek, pondering his next words. “Especially during sex.” The way Tony took in his next breath, slightly shaky and as an obvious reaction to the image in his mind, had Peter grin wide. He sat back a little and lifted his hand to hide his mouth behind his curled in fingers. The oversized hoodie gave him the sweet advantage he never knew he would need this morning. He pulled his hand back in the arm hole slightly, covering his palms with fabric so only his fingers showed.

“Mm, do you like me fragile? Small?” Peter grinded down into Tony again, only once, and Tony had to hold back a moan. Alright, Peter thought. That’s a yes. “Soft and delicate under your touch?” With his free hand, Peter raised Tony’s to meet the one he still had in front of his mouth. He slipped one of Tony’s fingers into his mouth, both his hoodie covered hands enveloping Tony’s. He sucked gently and blinked twice, cocking his head slightly.

“Jesus, Pete-“

“Wha- else do you wike?” Peter’s words are obstructed by Tony’s index finger still between his lips.

“You, kid, like I said, I like you-“ Tony seemed torn. He obviously felt embarrassed about this topic of conversation but he definitely did not want Peter to stop doing what he was doing. However, Peter wasn’t satisfied with the answer and pulled Tony’s finger out. He waved Tony’s hand in a circle to pretend the older man was lecturing him, finger pointed to the ceiling.

“Not good enough.” Peter started grinding again. “Do you want me to call you something? Do you like it when I call you Mister?”

“I think it’s best I don’t associate you calling me Mister with the things we do in the bedroom. You call me that a lot.”

“Fair. What do you want me to call you then?” Peter tried his best to keep his upper body still, only rolling his hips like a dancer over Tony’s crotch. The billionaire involuntarily bucked up and Peter knew the answer was right there on the tip of his tongue. He just wasn’t saying it. Gently, Peter guided Tony’s hand to his ass and rested it on top. With his other hand he pushed up the hoodie slightly, revealing his pale skin. “How about Master?” He cocked his head the other way. “Do you want me to be your slave?” Tony shook his head tightly. “No? I could be your sex slave, bound and at your feet, doing anything you want me to do.”

“No- Pete-“

“Just tell me what I’m working with here? I want you to feel good, Tony.” There was a beat.

“Fine,” Tony growled as he suddenly flipped them over. Peter ended on his back on the sofa, the billionaire hovering over him with a hunger in his eyes Peter had never seen before. His rough hands pinned Peter’s above the young man’s head. “Want me to speak my mind? Say what’s really going on in my head when I fuck you? No filter?”

“Please,” Peter sighed content. Finally. “I’ll use my safe word if it’s too much.”

“Good boy.” Peter’s eyes went wide and he let out a surprised moan that dripped with the sudden surge of arousal he felt at the praise. Tony had never called him that and, by God, it’s perfect. “Mm, so you like that too, huh? Fuck, Pete, I’m gonna tell you exactly what I think.” Tony pressed in with an aggression that had Peter’s head spinning. “But I want you to beg for it.”

Oh, God, yes.

“Please, please, tell me, Tony-“ Peter tried to push up his hips in an attempt to find back the friction he lost when Tony flipped them over. “I have to know, I- I need to, please!”

“God, Pete, you’re so fucking pretty like this, desperate and needy.” Tony’s mouth ravaged Peter’s skin, moving his wet kisses from his jaw to his collar bone that popped out of the neck hole of the big hoodie. “So cute, it’d be a waste not to rail your pert little ass with my fat cock. Wanna ram into you with all I have, show you how strong I am.” Peter doesn’t know what to reply with, other than another moan of want and lust. Tony is filthy. And Peter loves it.

“Already out of words, pretty thing? Already a moaning mess for your Daddy?” Peter squeezed his eyes shut and bucked involuntarily. A lewd moan fell from his lips as he nodded. “Look at me,” Tony ordered. Peter immediately obeyed and opened his eyes.  He whimpered when Tony’s face appeared right in front of him, eyes piercing through him, capturing him and keeping him in place.

“D-daddy?” Peter tried the word and was pleasantly surprised at the pleasure that coursed through his body as he said it. Tony seemed to be affected by it too. His pupils dilated even further, hiding the deep brown shades behind an infinite lustful darkness.

“That’s right, princess. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill you with my cum. I want to wreck you until the only thing you can think of is my cock. Wanna make you mine; my pretty little cockslut- Do you want that too?” Tony growled.

Holy shit.

Whatever side of Tony Peter just unlocked, he wants to throw out the key and keep this man forever. He’s filthy and arousing and hot and yes- yes-

“Yes- yes- yes, Daddy, please give me your cock-“ Peter whined. “Fill me, claim me, shit, I need you inside me so bad-“ Tony wasted no time and sat back up to unbuckle his belt, letting go of Peter’s hands. Tony pulled out his throbbing shaft and showed it off. Peter could only stare at it open mouthed. “Daddy, please?” Peter licked his lips and Tony groaned above him. Precum showed at the tip and Tony immediately used it to slicken his cock.

“Which of your holes do you want me to fill, pretty Peter?” Tony grinned wide. His legs were still on either side of Peter’s body, knees pressing inward and squeezing Peter’s waist. It was so utterly possessive that for a second Peter forgot Daddy asked him a question.

“Any- Any, daddy, please, use me-“

“Oh,” Tony moaned and threw his head back. “Why did I not tell you about this sooner?”  Peter saw an opportunity and grinned. He raised his hands to his face again, still mostly covered by the oversized hoodie and angled himself.

“Maybe cause I look so innocent?” He fluttered his eyes a few times and Tony roared a laugh before pushing his free hand up Peter’s hoodie to tweak a nipple. The young man jolted and squealed before moaning out loud again.

“Should’ve known you’re secretly just as filthy as I am.” Peter pushed his hands through his own hair and arched his back up to lean into Tony’s attention more and more.

Tony, however, pulled back to tear off Peter’s sweats.

“Open up, sweetheart,” Tony said with a smirk, gently tugging at Peter’s legs. Peter immediately complied and folded himself up, spreading his legs as wide as he could on the sofa and presenting his prepped, pink hole. Tony groaned as he pumped himself a few more times, using some of the lube that they’d left on the coffee table last night. “Jeez, you were already ready to be fucked, isn’t that right, Petey?” Peter nodded aggressively, still staring at the cock in front of him.

“Always ready for your cock, Daddy-“ Peter moaned as he clenched around nothing. Though, that nothing turned to something in the blink of an eye.

“Then take it,” Tony growled as he pushed in. “Be a good boy for Daddy.” Peter mewled at the sudden girth filling him up and dragging on his insides. Tony was absolutely perfect.

“Y-yes, please, wanna be your good boy,” Peter panted as he adjusted. The hoodie felt too warm around his body, but he didn’t want to take it off. Daddy liked it on him. Made him hot and desperate, just like Peter wanted him to be. All this filth and aggression did things to Peter that he’s never experienced before. He felt a need to make his Daddy feel good at any cost. To please and love him. Serve him. Be used by him in whatever way he saw fit. Tony was right. Peter truly was a cock slut. And he loved it.  

It wasn’t long before both Tony and Peter started rocking against each other in a delicious rhythm that ignited them both. The room filled with the scent of their sex and the sounds of their moans and skin slapping together. After a little bit, Peter held Tony’s face in his hands and looked into his Daddy’s eyes.

“May I be yours?” Peter whispered through his whimpers while Tony rutted into him like a dog. Tony smiled sweetly and Peter could swear he saw him tear up at Peter’s soft words.

“Forever-“ he panted with a growl. “Mine-“

“Y-Yours,” Peter parroted as he lost himself in the ecstasy when Tony angled himself to hit his sweet spot over and over and over and- “OH-“

Peter erupted, reminded of how his cock had remained untouched for the entire duration of their intense fuck. Tony always made sure Peter got the most attention. His cock, his ass, his nipples his everything. All he got this time was his Daddy’s dick hitting his prostate without remorse and for the first time in his life, Peter came untouched. His cum coated the navy blue hoodie and his convulsing and clenching around Tony swiftly resulted in the other man shooting his load into Peter. The older man rode down their highs and after a short while, he tried to pull out. Peter stopped him, though, and wiggled around until Tony was sitting on his butt again with Peter still on top of him, sheathing him. Tony smirked as he caught his breath.

“What’s this, baby boy?” He purred as he toyed with the hem of Peter’s cum covered hoodie. Peter leaned forward to rest against Tony’s chest, chin laying on the back of the sofa behind the billionaire.

“Mm, wanna keep you warm, Daddy,” he mumbled innocently. Tony chuckled.

“I think, you just want to keep my cock inside you for yourself.”

“Is that bad?” Peter whispered, kissing Tony’s neck. He felt so deliciously full. How could he ever want to end it? He loved being Daddy’s cock slut. Or sleeve. Whichever.

“Hm,” Tony pondered. “No.”  

[samwritesforyou]

Hi!! Just wanted to pop in and say that I love your writing💙 and if you are taking requests? If so, would you please write something about reader being a famous singer and diego is the bodyguard. Reader is kinda infatuated with diego but diego is oblivious, saying that he has to be professional about this new job. I know the prompt is kinda long, sorry about that. But I would love to read something like that🤗

Hii!!! Thank you so much, this means a whole lot to me because I'm kinda going through a tough time and the only thing that keeps me consistently going and feeling creative is just... doing this, writing. so i actually did get heavily inspired by this and thought of a little something! sorry if its not entirely what you had in mind, but that's just what popped into my mind!

On my guard (pt. 1)

part two

Warnings: gender-neutral reader

Wordcount: 2k

You’ve been with your company for a year now. Ever since you signed with them, you weren’t sure what to expect. And honestly, you would never even guess that your passion for singing could lead you this far and you’ve been damn proud of yourself. 

Everything was going well, even the fame was rising - what actually scared the crap out of you, but you were trying to hold it together - so now your manager decided to give you a bodyguard. 

That happened around two months ago, just when you started going around for all kinds of interviews, events and shootings for the magazines.

The company you started working with wasn’t the most popular one, thus their budget wasn’t infinite either. For now, your manager and some bosses above them decided that they’ll try out giving you only one security man. As mentioned already, their budget wasn’t infinite.

And you’d never believe anyone if they would tell you that you would fall for your previously mentioned “guardian”.

You were just on a soundcheck for your ten minutes feature on the upcoming musical event, so you were concentrated on the choreography and keeping your voice steady as you moved around. Suddenly some lights on the podium flickered and turned off. You heard curses from the technical team over on the other side of the spacious room and sighed, realising that this malfunction is giving you a sudden mandatory break from the practice.

Your eyes immediately found their way to his face. Soundchecks were one of the rarest occasions when he didn’t have anything to do - meaning, guarding you - and he always spent it looking at you.

Your music, you guessed. Probably not at you specifically.

Diego... your mind mused and you were already smiling brightly at him. He was so... pretty and caring. Something that goes even beyond his job description, you felt like.

All he did was a faint smirk back with a curt nod of his head.

You sighed and easily jumped off the stage, walking to him until you could stand next to him, back leaning on the barricade behind the two of you.

“How’s it going today, Diego?” you weren’t looking at him now, your gaze focusing on the scene in front of you as some guys started running back and forth, fixing cables and shouting something at each other from the distance.

He shuffled a little next to you, making the space between you bigger now. Diego wasn’t looking your direction either.

“As much as I like these kinds of days, I feel like I’m wasting my time and your money,” you felt his eyes finally stopping for a split second on you, then turning back to its original spot again, “I mean, for the majority of the day there are no people to guard you from,” he spread his hand across the podium before your eyes, demonstrating that there was only staff present.

“Is it that bad?” In your head, the question sounded more jokingly, but the second it left your lips it fell quite heavily between the two of you.

“I mean... no,” he said more quietly, “I just don’t feel professional like this.”

Your face eased with a hint of a smile, swallowing a laugh so you don’t look like you’re making fun of him.

“Diego, how many times am I supposed to tell you that you’re doing your job amazingly? Above average, 11 out of 10 experience,” you said, trying to squish at least some emotion out of him.

This made him chuckle, which you counted as a huge success.

He was obsessed with being professional and good at his job. On one of the long nights in the queue to the interview, he told you that he used to do some work before applying and getting assigned to this, but he’s still new to looking and acting presentable. And he just didn't want to screw this up.

Your relationship, on the other hand, went from professional to friendly quite fast. You realised that you weren’t this friendly even with the staff members that you knew way longer than him. Your chemistry was on point, you guessed.

And you already buzzed to all your close friends that you have a thing for your new bodyguard. But sadly enough, you never had tremendous success in love life and all the people you’ve fallen in love with over the years never liked you back. Or some pretended that they did. And it hurt, but you learned a whole lot from these experiences.

Yet you still found yourself slowly falling for this rare smile of his, his dark eyes focused on you from time to time and this feeling of calmness that he brought to you whenever you were near each other.

“y/n?” You suddenly felt a light tap on the shoulder, hand lingering on your bare skin.

You looked up, meeting Diego’s eyes. You didn’t want to lie to yourself but you were almost certain that there was some kind of tension between the two of you.

He didn’t let go of your shoulder yet - making your heart beat faster suddenly - and nudged with his head towards the stage, raising eyebrows.

“Thinkin’ about something, y/n? They fixed the lighting, you can go back on,” he said, finally letting go of you and you just opened and closed your mouth, no sound coming out.

Then you just nodded, smiling a little before running off to the podium, finishing the rehearsal. 

.

.

“Right now you’re going to go through that exit, alright?” said one of your managers. Voices were buzzing all around you and you felt fucking overwhelmed. “I know, we messed up, y/n, we’re really sorry. But you have to go through the main exit because there’s been some stuff going on in the emergency exit where you were supposed to leave at,” they said hurriedly, shuffling with you through the crowd of people. Your own staff mixed with strangers.

“Okay, okay!” you had to yell in their direction to be heard, “explain to me again, why is this such a huge deal?!”

“Because,” the woman stopped you by the shoulders, looking you dead in the eyes, “you’re famous now. You might not realise it, but if you go out there now, there’s going to be tons of fans waiting for a possible celebrity, alright? I admit, it is a mistake from the management, and you will be compensated, but. It is what it is now, okay? Brace yourself, y/n!” and with that you were left on your own, only with Diego in front of you, pushing through to give you some space to get to the exit.

The concert wasn’t done yet, but your part was finished and you needed to get to a different shooting right away after this.

You were starting to lose the sight of your bodyguard as more and more people were packed in the crowd, making it hard to go through. “Shit,” you cursed and spat on all the policies by grabbing his hand and holding it tightly.

He looked back at you for a split second, making sure it’s you, whom he’s leading right now.

“It’s gonna get messy!” you heard him say, only taking your hand more comfortable into his, grasping tighter.

You felt the heat radiating from your palms clapped together, and even felt his thumb rub over your hand?...

Must’ve been the imagination. And the wild one, at that. You’re for the first time holding your crush’s hand and it had to happen in this rushed and overwhelming scenario. Of course.

But once you made it out of the venue it only got worse. Here, people start recognising you almost instantly. There were no restrictions on personal space and your only shield was Diego.

“Y/n!” “Y/n, you’re so amazing, let’s take a picture!!” “I love you, y/n!” “What, y/n??? I was expecting the other artist to come out of here now! Go away!” 

All types of comments flooded your ears and your heart was pounding in your chest. You felt like you were gonna rip away Diego’s hand from his arm, that’s how much you were clutching it.

You almost made it to the familiar car parked on the side when someone took you by the shoulder from behind, making you slow down and in a surprise your hand slipped from your bodyguard’s, leaving you open to the crowd around you.

There were eyes, mouths, faces, spit, breaths, all kinds of perfumes and smells erupting around you and it was driving you crazy, all you wanted was to get out of there.

“Diego!” you yelled out and the next thing you know he’s already there again, next to you, basically hugging you from behind, his body fully pressed to yours, hands on your hips and he easily turned you two around, making your way once again to the car.

His one hand was up in the air in front of you as some literal shield that people were trying to get through until you made it to the destination.

He almost threw you into the front seat, closing the door behind you and you instantly locked it from the inside, letting out a shaky breath.

Then you heard Diego land on the seat next to you and start the engine.

Once you were on the road through the woods, you looked up out of the window and started crying.

That was too much.

You couldn’t concentrate on anything during your breakdown, only hearing a faint bodyguard’s voice when he called someone as he was driving you straight home.

.

.

“Wasn’t I supposed to have some other photoshoot today? For that.. magazine?” you said quietly, still sitting in the car, not daring to move.

You were parked outside of your place, soft tunes playing on low volume through the radio.

“Yeah, but I called your manager and they said it’s okay to skip it. I explained the situation and they told me that you should rest. Really, y/n,” he already hovered his hand above your thigh - probably wanting to pat it in reassurance - but decided against it, curling his palm into a fist and just putting it back onto his own knee and looking away.

“I don’t wanna be alone tonight,” you just said, watching his whole internal crisis about showing affection and pulling your legs up to your chin, hugging them.

“Do you want me to call someone?” Diego asked, still not looking into your direction.

“Maybe you can stay?..” you said carefully, looking at him.

And not only because of the crush thing. You just... didn’t want to talk to anyone about this and since he was there when it happened, you could possibly find comfort in his presence at the moment.

He finally shifted his eyes, his dark orbs meeting yours. Your look lingered for way longer than it probably should, until he finally spoke up.

“Stay?... Like..” you saw him getting actually flustered about the rest of the sentence, ears reddening and all.

“What are you thinking about?!” you said, laughing and smacking him on the shoulder with your hand, “I just meant.. to stay as a sleepover, you know. Just hanging out. I don’t think I wanna see anyone who might not know what I’m going through,” you added more quietly, slipping into the sad thoughts again, but Diego quickly pulled you out of it once more.

“Oh!” he almost gasped, eagerly nodding and clearing his throat, “sure, I.. yeah. Yeah. I don’t know if it’s professional or not, to just... hang with you like this, but. I think you do need some company,” Diego said, smiling a little bit and getting out of your car.

You got out too, at that, feeling the chill breeze travel around your ankles and making you shiver for a second before you rushed to the entrance.

“Come on!” you said, opening the door and waiting for Diego to catch up. 

“Should we order a pizza or something?” he asked as he walked in, making you laugh again.

This man is definitely gonna cheer you up. And you are also excited to finally get to know your unfortunate crush a little closer.

A/N: also i would love to make it a shorter series, maybe? i already have some plot points that would be cool to write, so let me know if you guys would want that!