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tickle-bugs · 10 months

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But You Were Mine

Summary: Still hung up on the fit of Bruce’s body against his, Clark attempts the oldest possible ritual: getting to know his pseudo-sweetheart. Too bad Bruce Wayne is the most unknowable man on Earth. Sequel to Chase the Memory of it Still.

Yet again, blame @fickle-tiction for this. Doing a midnight post and run so I don’t have to look at this in the morning lol. Also warning for mild barely even lukewarm makeouts. Probably tamer than Part 1 lol.

Also also: the beginning scene with Clark and Lois works best if you imagine that Lois doesn’t know that Bruce is Batman but suspects him, all while thinking Clark doesn’t know that Bruce is Batman. So she’s trying to protect him from being lied to and Clark is like ‘but Lois I love him’

“Clark Joseph Kent, you’re a grade-A idiot.” Lois thwaps the back of his head with a rolled-up newspaper.

“I know,” Clark groans into the surface of Lois’s desk. She thwaps him again.

“So, let me get this straight.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You somehow conned your way into a fake relationship with Bruce Wayne of all people, and now you have feelings for him?”

“I’ve always had feelings for him,” He mumbles, suddenly feeling very small in his seat. When he looks up at her, she’s glaring at him. Ah, he’s in trouble.

“You don’t know him.” She spreads her hands on the surface of her desk, knocking aside a few Daily Planet pens. He picks them up and puts them back.

“Yes I do.” Clark frowns.

“He’s an airhead playboy with zero priorities. You deserve someone who’ll be honest—“

“Oh? Like Selina?”

Lois gets very quiet. Her stare pierces like a fine needle through his throat. A few battered emotions flicker over her face, leaving in their wake a rare and unguarded Lois. Then, quicker than the cat that stole her heart, her face resigns into something sharp and deadly.

“I’m sorry.” He circles the desk and pulls her into a hug. After a begrudging glare, she tips her head into his chest. They inhale and exhale together—a routine they’ve shared for years. She relaxes into him.

“No, you’re right.” She chuckles. “I fell for a thief. That’s on me.”

“And I spent the night with the one guy I shouldn’t have. We can’t all be perfect.” Clark elbows her, looking for a smile. Lois’s eyes blow wide and she starts spluttering.

“You hooked up with him?” She thankfully keeps to a hissing whisper, but he can tell she wants to shout. He contemplates flying around the Earth fast enough to undo the moment, but she’s gripping his shirt tight enough to stop him.

“Well, okay, we kissed a bunch but it didn’t go further—“

“Oh god, we’re both hopeless.” She groans into her hands.

“No, not hopeless. We can both have what we want. I’ll call Bruce if, and only if, you call Selina.” He pulls her hands away from her face. She huffs and smiles.

“This optimism thing is going to bite you in the ass. How do you think you’re gonna maintain a relationship with someone who doesn’t know that you, uh, work two jobs?” She casts a weary glance towards the office door and drops her voice even lower.

“He gets me, Lois.” It’s all he can say. It’s the truth.

“Alright.” She brushes a thumb over his cheek. “Then get to know him at least. Find out if he’s the kind of guy worth being around.”

“I know he's worth it. That’s not ever in question.” Clark can’t help but smile a little as he thinks of Bruce. “It’s an internal thing. He sees me. I see him. We don’t have to pretend with each other. It’s…just us.”

Her keen eyes scan every inch of his face, even as he trails off.

“You should tell him.” She squeezes his arm.

“What? No. Absolutely not. I only said that because I know you won’t call her. C’mon, you’re supposed to be the voice of reason here.” He squints at her. She flicks him in the forehead.

“Okay, well the ‘voice of reason’ thinks you should say something before you lose this…somehow healthy-sounding relationship you have. With Bruce Wayne, of all people,” She mutters that last part, but Clark both hears and ignores it.

“We’re friends and it’s good. Really good. He trusts me at least a little. I don’t want him to think I have ulterior motives. If I could read him at all, figure out what he wants…but I can’t. I can’t lose him.”

“This isn’t the healthiest advice, but…start a list. Treat him like a case. What are some things that draw you to him? Things he hides? Things he shows only to you? If it makes you do that dopey giggle thing you do, he’s probably worth it.” She leans against the edge of her desk and crosses her arm.

“I don’t do a giggle…thing,” he mumbles, but his face is already heating up an incriminating amount.

“It’s cute. He’ll probably like it.” She tweaks his nose. He swats her hand away, but his spirits are far lighter.

His phone buzzes and he checks it as discreetly as possible.

B: Free this afternoon?

Clark smiles.

C: On my way. :)

“I’ve gotta go.” He stands and shrugs on his suit jacket.

“Boyfriend awaits?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Bye, Lois.” He rolls his eyes.

“Tell him I’d love to do an exclusive with him.” She snickers.

“I’ll tell him that when you call Selina.” He smirks. She gasps her way into laughter, her face blooming pink. Her hand comes up to play with a diamond necklace sitting on her collarbone--a cat-shaped pendant he’s never seen her wear before--and shakes her head fondly.

“I will after you kiss your playboy. Again.” She raises her eyebrow. Checkmate.

“Bye, Lois,” He says a little louder. She playfully shoos him from her office. He kisses her cheek.

Clark can only smile when he hears her phone ringing and the faint “Hey, kitty” through the glass.

….

It’s apt that Gotham is as dark and segmented as its protector, Clark thinks, because he’s never in his life met anyone as fragmented as Bruce Wayne. Everyone in the League is broken in some way, battered by traumas that still threaten to crush them, but Bruce is markedly...different. He covers the cracks in his soul with masks. For every unveiling, six more facades lay below it.

The reporter in him finds a dark fascination with it. The lost Kryptonian in him finds it…depressing. The human in him is currently bouncing on his heels in the lobby of Wayne Tower until Bruce finally meets him downstairs.

Bruce glides off of one of the elevators and nods at a few hushed executives who scurry in behind him. He must come off so effortless to them—not a hair out of place, a new suit and coat every day, but Clark can see the exhaustion clouding his eyes. Bruce Wayne is put together. Bruce is tired.

“You seem eager.” Bruce gives him a practiced small smile as they fall into step.

“I’m having the slowest of slow days. This was a much needed adventure.” Clark stretches his spine. It gives a loud, much needed crack. He’s just a little too big for his chair at the Planet and it’s starting to take its toll.

“We’re just walking down the street,” Bruce chuckles. He bumps the doors to the building open and Clark darts out. A light flurry of snow twirls through the air as they start their walk. He catches a snowflake on his tongue before he can think better of it. Bruce’s smile grows a little wider.

“So? Every trip away from my desk is an adventure. C’mon, I know a spot.” Clark nods to the side and they hang a left, passing under a train overpass.

“You know a spot in Gotham?” Bruce raises a brow.

“I get around.” Clark grins.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

They end up at a patisserie on the East side, a small family-run shop that deserves far more business than it gets. Clark can smell the wonders within from a good mile away.

Months ago, when he was helping Lois write a scathing exposé on Wayne Enterprises, this spot had served him well. Nothing better than a building full of sweets and a decent wifi connection to get you through betraying a good friend. Shredding that article was easily the best decision of Clark’s life, especially since Lois’s pivot towards flaying Lexcorp alive won her an award.

He buys them both coffee—black for Bruce, vanilla for himself—and sets about the intricate ritual of sweetening his coffee to perfection. This is normalcy. Normalcy is good.

“This is the only part of Gotham I like.” Clark steals little peeks at Bruce, waiting for him to inevitably make fun of him, but his eyes are elsewhere.

A refrigerated display tower of macarons stands proudly next to the register, boasting all sorts of delicious surprises. The splash of color is welcome among the somewhat dreary day outside.

“Hm?” Bruce’s gaze struggles to find its way back to Clark.

“You seem distracted.” Clark pops the stirring straw into his mouth and pulls the remaining coffee out with a little slurp. He pops the lid onto his cup much slower than necessary. The first time you crush a cup of boiling liquid in public tends to change you, after all. He’s grown since then.

“Heavy work day.” For a man so difficult to read, Bruce has never clearly been more full of shit. He doesn’t even try to look away from the cookie display.

“Do you…want a macaron?” Clark doesn’t bother trying to stifle his amusement.

“What? No.” Bruce withdraws slightly.

“What’s your favorite? My treat.” Clark jerks a thumb towards the display.

“Money isn’t the problem.” Bruce scoffs, but not unkindly. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. Clark tries to ignore the still-fading lovebite on Bruce’s neck that he left.

“Then what is?” Clark leans forward on his elbows. Surprise flickers across Bruce’s face for the slightest of moments.

“…I’ve never had one,” Bruce mumbles, shuffling a bit in his seat. Clark beams.

“First time for everything. C’mon.” Clark vigorously beckons him over to the line. Bruce trails behind with an endearing awkwardness that he’s learned to identify: slow steps, shifty eyes, and silence.

Clark takes his time to point out his favorite flavors and make a few recommendations, but he feels like he’s stumbling around in the dark. His sweet tooth is only rivaled by Diana’s—even then, their tastes match so closely that he’s a little lost with someone like Bruce.

Bruce stares deeply at him. Clark’s rambling stutters to a halt. He pulls on his collar a bit. Adjusts his glasses.

Bruce’s eyes seem so warm. Must be the light.

“If today was my last day to live and you had to give me a macaron, what would you choose?” Bruce leans close. His eyes are on the display, thank god, because Clark doesn’t know that he can handle more of that eye contact right about now.

“It amazes me that you’re so committed to the dark and brooding thing.” Clark rolls his eyes, and after some thought: “Raspberry.”

“Hm. Okay.” And that’s that. Bruce orders quickly and walks away with his prize, leaving Clark to scramble after him. They sit back down in their quiet little corner, the naturally-frosted window fogging slightly at their presence.

Bruce opens his box of macarons clinically, like he��s stripping it for parts. He takes one out and admires the color, gives it a little test squish, sniffs it. Clark watches the process with vested interest until Bruce pulls out another box and slides it towards him.

“What’s this?” Clark pulls the box close.

“Strawberry Cheesecake macarons. I saw you eyeing them when we came in.” Bruce pokes the box again, sliding them just a little more forward.

“I’m not subtle, am I?” Clark pushes his glasses up again. He cracks the box open and pops a cookie in his mouth. His eyelids flutter shut and he does a little dance in his chair.

“It’s one of your more endearing qualities.” Bruce quirks a small, smug smile.

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Clark fake sniffles. The resulting eyeroll is incredibly satisfying.

Bruce takes a mouse-like nibble of the macaron, catching maybe an atom of cookie and filling between his teeth. He chews thoughtfully.

“So? Do we have a winner?” Clark rests his chin on his hand.

“I think so. You have good taste,” Bruce hums, taking another tentative bite of the macaron. A gentle, genuine smile peaks on his lips like a glimpse of the sun through storm clouds.

“That’s the second nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Clark swipes a macaron from Bruce’s box fast enough to send a small breeze fluttering between them.

“And it will never happen again.” Bruce peeks open one eye as he finishes his macaron.

Okay, bumping shredding that Wayne Enterprises article down to number two. This, Clark thinks, watching Bruce smile to himself, this is easily top of the list.

1 ) He likes raspberries.

It takes later in the week until they have a moment to truly spend a bit of time together. Criminal roundups never leave much personal time, and Clark’s hearing has him near-constantly running to save lives. But, on a quiet Wednesday night, he has a moment.

He loves visiting Wayne Manor. It’s been a while since he last swung by, but he adores the place. He could spend hours swooning over the architecture alone. It’s a beautiful place to disappear for a while, and he’s been doing that more and more lately.

He gets buzzed into the gates easy enough with a lie about taking the bus, and then he’s standing in the massive foyer and hanging up his coat by the door. The manor smells of old wood and citrus. Clark draws in a big breath of it.

He turns and jumps a bit when a flock of people are suddenly staring at him atop the stairs. Bruce’s kids, right. He knows Dick, Tim, and Jason. The others are still a bit fuzzy to him. They all leer from the landing like royalty watching a gladiator in the pit.

“Hey there.” He waves at the smallest and angriest of the bunch. This is Damien, he’s pretty sure.

“So you’re the new guy.” A blonde—Steph, he remembers her from the Christmas card—leans on the railing with her forearms.

“I wouldn’t mess with him, Steph. He’s tougher than he looks,” Dick murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, trying his best to be subtle. Clark gives him a friendly wave. He returns it.

“He looks like he wears a pocket protector. I could take him,” Steph whispers to Dick. Clark tries to rein in his expression so he doesn’t give himself away.

“I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m Clark. You’re all Bruce’s kids, right? It’s nice to meet you.” He tries to make himself look as friendly as possible. He gets a few waves, but mostly owlish stares. He sees where they get it from.

“Is your father home?” Clark sticks his hands in his pockets and tries to kill the silence.

“Bruce! Your boyfriend’s here!” Jason bellows. Clark bites his lip to hide his smile.

“Clark?” Bruce peeks around the corner, then shuffles quickly down the stairs.

“Hey. I, uh, had a few minutes. Just came by to see you before I went home.” Clark rubs the back of his neck with a smile, trying to kill the flutter in his chest.

“Bruce, say something,” Tim hisses, crouching behind the banister as if Clark can’t see him. Bruce startles, glares at him, and then gestures for Clark to follow him. As they pass, all of the kids watch him go, whispering in a building flurry that he doesn’t bother dissecting. He tells himself it’s because they deserve their privacy, but really…he’s nervous. Severely.

“I hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable. They can be a bit…eager.” Bruce’s smile is warm beneath the lights of the old manor.

“They’re wonderful. Terrifying, but wonderful.” Clark chuckles and bumps their shoulders together while they walk.

It’s these precious minutes that define their friendship more than anything. Clark tells Bruce all about his day, about his Lex Luthor exposé making the front page, about everything and nothing at all. He talks and Bruce listens, egging him on with gentle tilts of the head when he shyly falls into silence.

By the time they reach the gardens, it’s Clark’s turn to listen. Bruce tells him about the kids, occasionally stopping whenever he notices one lurking. He asks for his opinion on random scenarios. Clark can’t tell if they’re hypotheticals but he answers as truthfully as he can, chasing the little noises of appreciation that Bruce makes as he talks.

Not only are Bruce’s masks interchangeable, taking him from Bruce to Batman to Bruce Wayne, they’re also removable. Clark doesn’t know when he was bestowed with the honor of being with Just Bruce, but he’s immensely grateful for it.

“Good evening, Mr. Kent.” Alfred nods respectfully in his direction. “Master Bruce, you have a call from Mr. Fox. Line three, sir.”

“Thank you, Alfred.” Bruce squeezes Clark’s shoulder. “You can wait here, if you’d like.”

“Am I allowed to touch anything?” Clark teases.

“Anything you want.” Bruce winks at him, completely straight-faced, and disappears into the corridors of the manor. Clark’s face grows embarrassingly hot and he reclines against the lip of the fountain.

He birdwatches as he waits, counting which of Bruce’s kids make normal, completely non-suspicious trips through his personal space. Dick’s the least sneaky of the bunch, but it lends him a genuine quality. He sits and chats with Clark for a few minutes, asking him about work and the like. He asks about his relationship with Bruce and Clark mumbles something non-committal, cheeks warm.

Bruce, uh, never put out that statement about them breaking up. Clark thinks he might be alright if it never gets published.

As the hours draw on, he catalogs where the other Robins like to hide. Tim and Damien have an affinity for hiding in the massive hedges surrounding the gardens, while Steph takes to watching from the windows. Cass is the hardest to spot but he catches her on the roof a few times, perched and enjoying the warm dusk breeze. He sees Jason with her once too.

If he’s learned anything from their father, it’s that staring is caring. Probably.

When Alfred fetches him hours later, he arrives at a scene he wants to burn permanently into his memory.

Bruce is seated at the beautiful. obnoxiously long table in the dining room. He’s got a knee hiked up on the chair, picking idly at the fabric of his pants. On the table, a black kitten rolls around and bats at a toy. It’s sweet and oddly domestic.

“Hey.” Bruce doesn’t turn.

“Hi. Who’s this?” Clark holds a hand out to the kitten and it drops its paw on top of his palm, mewing softly. The squeaky, deflating noise that leaves him is not one he’s proud of. It’s so sweet and small.

“Nyx. She’s a stray. I give her food when I can.” Bruce scratches her head gently. Nyx purrs and lays down on the table, tucking her head into the attention. She’s a precious baby, is what she is. Clark has half a mind to take her home.

That is, until Bruce sneezes loud enough to send poor Nyx running. She flings herself off the table and into one of the manor’s seemingly endless corridors.

“Bless you.” Clark chuckles. Bruce pulls a face.

“Master Bruce.” Alfred hands him a box of tissues.

“I can hear you laughing, Alfred,” he sniffles, hair a bit ruffled from the sneeze. Clark purposefully averts his eyes.

“I would never, sir. Goodnight, Mr. Kent.” Alfred bows his head, sharing that mischievous glint in his eye.

“Goodnight, Alfred.” Clark grins, settling into the oversized chair beside Bruce.

2 ) He’s got a cat allergy, but he feeds the strays anyway. Bruce = cat person?

“Stop it.” Hearing the Batman voice and knowing it’s mostly because Bruce is annoyed is truly golden.

“Stop what?” Clark floats leisurely alongside Bruce, arms behind his head. Keeping pace with him isn’t hard--he’s fast for human standards, but not by Clark’s. He’s made it a habit anyways not to zip too far ahead as they’ve grown closer. It kills the banter.

“Look, all I’m saying is that if Batman started flying, criminals would absolutely take the week off. If I was a criminal and I thought Batman had suddenly gotten superpowers, I’d simply leave Gotham.” Clark flips upside down and hangs in front of Bruce, still drifting backwards in pace with him.

He can sense Bruce trying not to smile, but when he opens his mouth to tease, karma speaks instead. Clark smacks his head into the side of a building just as Bruce slips through a narrow space between it and its neighbor. Clark flies up over the building and catches up with Bruce again, scowling.

“I know you’re laughing.” Clark crosses his arms.

“Me? Never. Just thinking about how great it is to be grounded.” Bruce allows himself the tiniest of smirks, just enough to be infuriating, and it’s Clark’s turn to roll his eyes.

3 ) He restrains his emotions. Even the good ones.

Roaming the Hall of Justice late at night is a cultivated hobby of Clark’s. The best snacks hide in the dark, after all, and he knows that no one’s gonna come bother him about a missing bag of chips at this hour. He needs time to think and food to think with.

Clark’s feelings for Bruce could both span and fill an ocean. He doesn’t know when this happened. As far as he can remember, there’s always been this beacon of warmth in his chest guiding him to Bruce. Through every late night and early morning, through hopelessness and joy, Bruce is a constant. It’s too much to put on one person. Too risky.

The ‘l word’ pops into his head like a dark omen, and he skids to a halt. He glances around, listening for any league members skulking around. All he hears is his own thundering heartbeat.

Fuck. Fuck.

He makes his way into the kitchen past a snoring Arthur, pausing to snatch the jumbo bag of cheese puffs from his limp grasp. He slips quietly out into the hall, passing by the lounge, where Bruce and Diana are laughing—

Clark backpedals, nearly tripping over his own feet, but god it’s worth it. Bruce is clutching Diana’s shoulder and giggling, stuck in the loop of overwhelming laughter that follows an unyielding barrage of jokes.

They’re still suited up, probably fresh off a patrol, and Clark wonders how long they’ve been sitting here. A mountain of chocolates, the fancy ones, cover the surface of the table. Diana delicately sorts through and plucks the ones she wants from the pile as Bruce watches.

“Diana’s the new team comedian. None of you are funny.” Bruce recovers from his laughter, but the smile stays, and Clark makes an active effort to be normal about it. The delirium of another late night in a row must have gotten to him. That’s the only explanation.

“Barry will be devastated.” Clark chuckles. He leans in the doorframe and catches a cheese puff in his mouth.

“He will survive.” The sparkle in Diana’s eye has him wishing he had tuned into their conversation.

“If I had known y’all were partying in here, I would’ve come to hang out.” Clark crunches on another cheese puff, mostly to distract himself from the way Bruce’s eyes are sparkling. He didn’t know they could do that.

“There’s no reason you can’t party with us now.” Diana gestures to the seat next to Bruce.

Aw, what the hell? Eating junk food together couldn’t be much worse than doing it alone.

4 ) Bruce can laugh--he just has to be caught off-guard. He likes to laugh (?) (who doesn’t?)

“When you said you needed help, I thought you meant with translating.” Clark wanders into the room. The concrete is irritatingly cold on his feet.

Bruce types away wildly at a computer station with too many monitors. A pair of giant goggles on his head pull his hair out of his face. Clark leans over his shoulder to see what he’s doing, but the code flying across the screen is a nightmare.

At the opposite end of the room, a mechanical rig sits primed on a set of rails. In the center, a gnarly looking gun barrel stares out into an empty expanse.

“I’m trying to test new ammunition for the Batmobile, but my target system is down. Can’t reboot it.” Bruce clicks something else and the gun starts calibrating. A pathetic clicking sound picks up as targets struggle to ascend from the floor, twitching lifelessly in their compartments.

“Do you want help?”

“With coding?” Bruce turns with an expression just shy of condescending.

“God no. I am bulletproof, if you remember.” Clark sticks his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Doesn’t help. I need to study the impacts afterwards.” Bruce gestures to a massive chunk of concrete on a stand nearby. Clark hefts it into his arms with a quiet grunt.

“Just...keep up with the gun. I prefer my walls without bullet holes.” Bruce quickly turns away from him. Clark can hear his heartbeat pounding. He starts to ask, but the gun rig starts warming up and he sacrifices his curiosity.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready.” Clark adjusts his stance to prep for the recoil. The machine whirrs and clicks as it loads itself with rounds. Bruce types in a few things on a nearby control panel and pulls the goggles down over his eyes.

The gun barrel spins and whines as it gains force. Clark hovers a few inches off the ground and tenses. He lines the concrete up with his chest, his eyes just clearing over top of it.

The machine fires quicker and lower than he anticipates.

A sharp zing zips up Clark’s side, then another, then another, and he drops the concrete, instead covering his smile while forcing himself to stay still. That’s certainly not his best idea--no block means no cover, which subsequently means getting pelted with another wave of bullets.

Clark crumples into a flurry of giggles before he can stop himself. He curls up as much as he can—partly to stop any new onslaughts, mostly to hide his reddening face. He’s been shot more than anything and it’s never bothered him. He didn’t know he could be ticklish to touch, let alone to goddamn bullets.

“Clark! Are you okay?” Bruce leaps over the gun rig and pulls the safety goggles up onto his head.

“Y-Yes. I’m fine. Your machine…thing packs a punch.” Clark clears his throat to stop the rogue snickers forming a conga line in his throat.

“I thought you were supposed to be bulletproof.” Bruce huffs, kicking the pieces of shattered brick out of the way. He swipes at Clark’s torso, probably trying to brush away the dust on him. Clark flinches under the touch and coughs over a laugh.

“I am. It just…felt…weird.” Clark snatches Bruce’s wrist a little too quickly. Bruce’s brow furrows and he leans close, eyes glued to Clark’s stomach with sheer worry. His face resolves into tense understanding. Clark lets his hand go.

“What? What?” He tries to catch Bruce’s gaze. There shouldn’t be anything wrong. He feels fine. Nothing pierced. Definitely not bleeding—he learned what that feels like and he hates it. But Bruce has an eye for things that Clark could never dream of noticing, and right now he’s staring like Clark already has a foot in the grave.

“Can’t believe you fell for that.” Bruce smirks. He pulls Clark close—hello—and kneads unhurried fingers into his stomach.

No one will ever believe him. Bruce Wayne is tickling him and no one will ever believe him.

“B-Bruce!” Clark strains out of Bruce’s grip as best as he can, trying not to break any useful bones, but his joints keep turning to jelly. His forehead collides with Bruce’s shoulder and he shimmies rather uselessly.

“This is very entertaining, in case you were wondering.” Bruce hums and starts pinching up Clark’s sides. His warm breath sends goosebumps flaring over his throat.

“I wasn’t!” It’s more of a squeak than words. Evil fingers manage to squeeze beneath his arms and Clark jumps directly into the air.

“Did you just fly away?” A genuine laugh floats out of Bruce, warm and a bit scratchy. Clark wishes he could hear more of that instead of his own dorky laughter ringing in his ears.

“Not on purpose—shut up!” Clark aims a half-hearted kick at Bruce’s shoulder. His face burns hotter than the sun and he hides in his hands.

Bruce grabs his ankle and tries to reel him in like a lost balloon. Clark almost falls for it until suddenly calloused hands are scritching along the bottom of his foot. He giggle-snorts. Kryptonite through the chest would be a mercy, at this point.

A hush falls over the room. Clark dares to peek through his fingers.

“Oh.” Bruce blinks, then the most wicked grin overtakes his face. “Do that again.”

“You’re the worst!” Clark pulls his leg towards his body and accidentally takes Bruce with it--who doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, by the way. Every time he lowers his leg, Bruce doesn’t let go.

“I don’t want to drop you!” Clark shrieks as if a bug is crawling on him, rather than a person.

“Then don’t.” Bruce squeezes his calf and Clark whines his way into a fit of cackles. His body trembles with the effort to not fly directly through the ceiling. The illusion of escape makes it so much worse, especially with Bruce’s fingers worming behind his knee.

“You coming down or am I gonna have to call the fire department?” Jesus, Bruce has a real talent for smirking out loud. Clark tries to shake him off without throwing him across the room. Bruce digs his fingers into Clark’s thigh like he’s climbing a tree and the resulting yelp has Clark resolving to flee the country.

“Y-You’re not building a great case as to why I should!” He flinches after a flurry of giggles and slams his head into the ceiling. Plaster and dust rain down on the two of them. Clark tries to cover the crater he left behind with his hands and a bashful smile.

“Alright, I’m done. I’d like to keep my ceiling in one piece.” Bruce pulls him down to Earth, only letting go when he’s sure that Clark won’t float away again.

“Ticklish Superman. Who knew?” Bruce scritches beneath Clark’s chin, just like at the gala all those weeks ago, and Clark shoves his chin down with a snort.

“No one, and I prefer it that way. Keep it quiet.” He can’t muster any severity in his voice and he’s not sure it would help if he could. The thought of Lois finding out--or worse, Diana--starts an inescapable loop of nervous smiles and a light fluttering in his chest.

“No promises.” Bruce smirks. “I hear Lois wants an exclusive. Maybe I’ll give her a call.”

“Don’t you dare. Bruce—“

He dials her office line, jogging towards the stairs. Clark shrieks and chases after him.

5 ) He’s mischievous. Deathly so.

…

After a long while of staring at his pitiful little list, Clark still finds himself restless. He has naught more than a skeleton, clinging scraps of Bruce’s infinite depths. The paper isn’t suited to contain him. He might actually know less than before.

Even as Bruce beats the shit out of him, he can’t think of anything else.

“Why don’t you let anyone get to know you?” Clark frowns at Bruce across the sparring mats. Bruce runs and leaps onto his shoulders, executing a flawless scissor grip. Clark raises his hand to support his back and Bruce swats him away.

“What?” Bruce grunts, bringing his elbows down onto Clark’s head. He barely notices.

“You’re always so stoic. You never let anyone see you happy.” Clark flips Bruce off his shoulders and down onto his back. He puts his hands on his hips and stares down at him.

“No, I never let anyone see me vulnerable. There’s a difference.” Bruce wraps his legs around Clark’s and takes him down, quickly rolling atop him. Within a second, Bruce unleashes a flurry of blows that, if Clark could feel more than dull impacts, he probably would fear.

“You’re allowed to be vulnerable in front of your friends, Bruce. That’s what makes them friends, not coworkers.” Clark catches his fists and holds them.

“I’ll pass along your suggestion. Are you going to fight back or should I go get Diana?” Bruce raises an eyebrow, breathing hard. Clark flips them both and pins Bruce down.

“I just think—stop wiggling—we should bond more, y’know? Know thy enemy, and all that.” Clark keeps pressing down until Bruce sighs and goes still in his grip. He knows he’s defeated. Smart man.

“That tends to apply to actual enemies, not coworkers.” Bruce sighs.

“Well, we’re more than that, aren’t we?” Clark presses, searching Bruce’s eyes. Bruce nods, looking all for the world like he might bolt from the room.

“Sooo, what’s your favorite color?” When Bruce is silent, Clark rolls his eyes and sits back. “Mine is yellow. Your turn.”

“…lavender.” Bruce eyes him warily. Clark helps him to his feet and they start the cycle again. The minute they stop fighting each other’s rhythm, they find a flawless sync.

“Nice! Okay, uh…favorite food?” Clark ducks under Bruce’s left hook and shoves him back.

“Alfred’s chicken noodle.” Bruce kicks Clark across the face and he lets himself go down. He brushes some of the dust off.

“That sounds nice.” He grins up at Bruce from the mat. The light haloes behind his head so beautifully.

“Yeah.” Bruce clears his throat. “And you…?” He pulls Clark to his feet and resets his stance.

“Can’t go wrong with a slice of fresh apple pie.” Clark sweeps forward with a wink.

Bruce shakes his head and snickers, then punches Clark hard enough in the ribs to crack his own knuckles.

…

Two sharp knocks on the doorframe announce Bruce before his voice does. Clark looks up from the dull light of his laptop.

“Got a second?” Bruce leans in the doorframe, cloaked in slight shadow. He’s dressed comfortably, surprisingly, in a soft t-shirt and sweatpants that hug him well. It makes Clark wanna pull him close.

“Always, yeah.” Clark sets his computer aside and sits up. Bruce leans against the edge of his desk and fishes something out of his pocket.

“Found some intel. I could use a fresh set of eyes on it.” The moon casts loving light across his eyes and jaw.

“Of course.” Clark sits up more.

“Found this nearby. I was hoping you could decipher it.” Bruce hands over a scrap of folded paper. Clark furrows his brow as he takes it, gingerly opening it up. He casts a curious glance at Bruce before he starts to read.

It’s his notes. His notes on Bruce. Shit.

He looks up slowly, horrified. Bruce smirks in full force, oozing mischief that Clark now knows is very much in character.

“Normally, I’m not a fan of being watched. Try to avoid it as much as I can.”

“You’re a hard man to read.” Clark clears his throat and folds the paper down to hide its contents further.

“Yet it seems you’ve cracked the code,” Bruce hums. Clark catches the faint glimmer of that old playboy spark. Bruce’s lips tilt into a devilish smirk.

“So, I’m right then? It’s important…for the record.” Clark scoots up against the headboard in an attempt to look casual. Bruce sits at the foot of the bed. Voluntarily. Clark stops breathing.

“I would say that parts are accurate.”

“Parts?” He clears his throat. Bruce snatches the paper from his grip. He starts murmuring as he skims the list.

“Let’s see…I like raspberries but I’m allergic.”

“You’re what?” The color drains from Clark’s face. Bruce shrugs.

“What else? Oh—I’m a dog person. I have a soft spot for cats.”

“Huh.”

“I am physically capable of laughter.” Bruce rolls his eyes.

“Proved that one already.” Clark smiles. Bruce scowls, then turns back to the paper. Clark remembers, in a terrible flash, the looping doodles of ‘Clark Kent-Wayne’ at the bottom of the page and chokes out a strangled scream.

He disintegrates the paper with a precise blast of heat vision. He feels a little bad for scorching the wall, but not that bad. The evidence is gone. Plausible deniability.

“Seriously?” He brushes the ash off his hands.

“I gotta keep my secrets.” Clark shrugs, but his face is incandescent with heat.

“What about that paper was so bad that it made Superman blush?” Bruce smirks.

“There is nothing on God’s green earth that you could do to make me tell you.” Clark grins from atop the high ground.

Bruce plucks his glasses off of his nose and sets them aside, careful not to touch the lenses. It’s a tender gesture for what is essentially a costume, but something in his heart flutters at the delicate care.

“Are you sure?” He leans close—close enough for Clark to catch a whiff of cologne and the intoxicating sparkle in his eye, close enough for Clark to lean in on instinct, and close enough for Bruce to wrap his hands around Clark’s waist like he’d been wishing he would since that stupid gala. Clark’s lips part.

“Okay, there might be a couple thi—“ Clark cuts himself off with a squeal, slamming his head into the headboard—the resulting crack speaks to a later promise of duct tape. As Bruce shoves his hands under his arms, Clark’s laughter bowls him over quicker than he can apologize.

“You are such a kid!” He throws his head back and cackles, curling into the tightest possible ball that his hulking form could take. Bruce leans over him.

“You have no grounds to call me that. You’re giggling.” Bruce raises an eyebrow,

“Because you’re t-tickling—” Clark regretfully finishes his sentence with a snort. Bruce lights up and chases the sound, relentlessly working his fingers into the grooves of his ribs. Clark hits his head again--there goes the rest of the headboard. And part of the wall.

Between the buzz of being touched by Bruce and being unused to this kind of touch, Clark melts into a haphazard pile of Superman with embarrassing speed. Bruce manages to work his fingers up further, right into his top rib, and he punches a hole directly into the nightstand, sending the lamp toppling over. Bruce relents then, passively assessing the damage while Clark drags in a deep breath.

“You really think it’s a good idea to tickle someone who could throw you into the sun?” Clark huffs, wobbling on a smile. Bruce smirks.

“Never said it was a good idea. Just an alluring one.”

“You find me alluring? Scandalous, Mr. Wayne.” Clark offers a teasing grin. Bruce’s brow crinkles with concern. He goes from fiddling with Clark’s waist to fiddling with his hands.

Bruce gets tactile when he’s stressed. Or when something’s on his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Clark asks softly. He scoots just a bit closer.

“The day after the gala, I had Vicki write up a piece about you and I splitting. Like I promised. It was never published.”

“I noticed,” Clark says carefully, tracking every detail of Bruce’s face.

“I asked her not to.”

“Why?”

“I knew if the article went live, you would stop with the affection and the dates. I know it was only for appearances, but…I really enjoyed it. I wasn’t ready to let it go. I…care about you.” Bruce looks up at him, worry entrenched in the dips of his face. It slips to something resigned and neutral, a blank mask.

Clark smiles like a lunatic, covering his mouth to hide it. He contains the desperate urge to take a lap around the manor. Months, years, of pining bloom into sweet possibility within him. The weight of guilt sloughs off his shoulders. Bruce likes him.

“Y’know, for the smartest man in Gotham, you miss quite a lot.” Clark leans in and waits. Bruce’s eyes flick to Clark’s lips, and in a Batman-esque flash of motion, he swoops down and kisses him. Their bodies slot together almost magnetically. Clark flips them over and bears back down, swallowing Bruce’s gasp of surprise in his mouth.

In an insane way, kissing Bruce is like coming home.

He flings his arms around Clark’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Clark immediately, greedily, lets his lips travel along Bruce’s pulse point. He chases the memory of the gala, littering desperate bruises along the cologne-tinged skin. His hand lingers at the base of his throat, brushing reverent fingers as he marks every inch available to him.

Bruce yelps into a giggle, breaking them apart. Clark blinks, processing, then grins with unbridled power.

“This feels…counter-productive.” Bruce swallows, bobbing Clark’s hand. His skin is hot and red to the touch.

“Nice try. You already enabled me—that was your first mistake.” Clark tickles him everywhere he can reach, dodging elbows and headbutts. Bruce cackles from his core, stumbling through a few high-pitched syllables of protest as he twists. He works so hard to force his voice back into its usual octave that it cracks. Clark snickers.

“I am going to kill you,” Bruce growls, reaching back to return the favor. Clark slams his arm down on the mattress, caressing the back of his hand with immovable fingertips.

“Then this is a wonderful last night on Earth.” Clark nibbles on his earlobe. Bruce’s giggly scream and the ensuing threats on his life are music to Clark’s ears.

#my fics #ticklish!bruce wayne #ticklish!clark kent #bruce wayne #clark kent #superbat #dc #ALRIGHT the lois/selina thing came from somewhere ok bc i know its a teeny ship #tbh im not sure it even exists #but my lois is inspired by lena luthor from the cw supergirl series bc lesbianism + superman makes me happy #but i felt like if lois was into kara (which originally she was) clark would be working around the clock to get them together #which derailed the scene. so i put lois and selina together #wlw mlm solidarity clark and lois both being head over heels for their respective creatures of the night speaks to me #they're besties your honor #sorry this is not what i said i would post next but its what i finished off my pile so #also titles from better love by hozier bc that song is superbat to me

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

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𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐭

Satoru Gojo & Suguru Getou

[Chapter 5] Phone Call

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader x Suguru Getou

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Phone Sex, Masturbation

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

Maybe your husband will finally take a hint, you think. Taking at least five minutes from his day to spend with you, but you end up finding that your very smart husband is more dense than you thought. Or maybe he’s just not all that interested in spending time with his hot lonely wife.

You entertain yourself one way or another. Like today, after going on a shopping spree, you went to get your nails done, grabbed some lunch, watched a movie, and finally got dinner. Your days mainly consist of wasting Suguru’s money. Spending his money was what really drew you into him in the beginning, but now, spending his money isn’t all that interesting to you when you’re alone most of the time. You so desperately wish that the man you love would take the initiative to spend so much as five minutes with you.

It’s near midnight, and you’re laying alone in bed. He has been home late all this week, but for some reason, tonight of all nights is when you can’t sleep. The thought of him and his secretary bug your mind. Suguru promised to give you the world, yet he’s probably balls deep inside another woman and the thought makes you sick.

The thought makes you grab your phone and call him. You hear the phone ring over and over again. Your heartbeat picks up speed with each ring, and it certainly doesn’t slow down when you’re sent to voicemail. You think about leaving a message, but you decide to hang up. You put your phone down as you think of the worst.

Your husband is probably cheating on you and pretending to work late hours. And here you are, his trophy wife, laying on your shared bed like a fool. You grab your phone again, and you’re so close to sending your husband a message, but you decide to do something else. Something worse.

You look for Satoru’s contact and when you find it, you hesitate. You begin to call the number, and unlike your husband, after two rings, he picks up the phone, “Hello?”

“Hey, Satoru… I have a question…” You begin. Out of all people, Satoru should know the most about Suguru’s schedule– Other than Suguru’s own secretary, but you’re certain that he’s fucking her. Satoru was the one who gave you the suspicion of your husband’s betrayal, so he must know something. Satoru hums in response, waiting for you to ask the question. “Is Suguru actually busy? He isn’t home right now…”

When Satoru hears the question, a smirk comes to his lips. He tries to hide it from the woman that sits across from him in the living room. He stands up, covering the microphone of the phone as he says, “I’ll be right back. Suguru’s on the phone.”

Satoru walks to his bedroom and closes the door, locking it. “Hmm… He’s working late? I’m not. We’re not that busy this time of the year. You should know.”

“Well…” You begin. He hears the lack of confidence in your voice.

“Last year he was way less busier, wasn’t he?” Satoru brings up, which you don’t recall. “Don’t you remember?”

“Well… To be honest, I think he was really busy this time of the year last year.” You share.

“This time of the year isn’t all that busy. Last year I was on vacation. I really do think… I don’t want to straight up accuse him, but he might be having an affair. He should be home by now.” Satoru tells you, and your breath gets caught up in your chest. “I don’t want to accuse your husband of doing such a horrible thing but– You know he’s my best friend.”

“Yeah…” He hears. He bites his bottom lip as he hears you say, “It’s really unfair. I’ve given up so much for him…”

“I get that, baby. I know you have.” He tells you, although he knows that you didn’t have to give up anything. Not a single thing. You married Suguru out of luck. His parents adore you. He paid off your student loans. Suguru would buy anything you asked for, even the moon and every star in the night sky. “He just… Gets bored. He’ll come back around.”

“It’s so unfair, Satoru.” You tell him, and he hums in agreement.

“But what else can you do?” He responds. A moment of silence happens before he speaks again. “Unless you want to give him a taste of his own medicine…”

“What do you mean by that?” You question, and it makes him bite his tongue. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything, you say, “You want me to cheat on him?”

“Well, he’s not giving you the attention you deserve, is he?” He asks. Maybe it’s not the best time for him to be asking about this. But at the same time, you’re vulnerable, and it’s late. Not a great time for him, but at the same time the best. “You have such a high libido, I’m sure he hasn’t kept up with it.”

“He… Hasn’t.” You confess. One hand goes to his pants, and he unbuttons them before he pulls them down. “He doesn’t have time for me anymore. I have to take care of myself.”

“You want me to take care of you, sweet girl? I’ll help you like old times.” He proposes, and for a minute, the line is quiet. Too many thoughts run through his head while he waits for your response, but none of them worry him. Because you’ll never bring this exchange up to Suguru, he knows it.

“Right now?” You question and he hums in response. You stare at the ceiling of your room while you decide what you want to do. You end up pulling up your nightgown, your hand going into your panties.

“Well… Are you horny right now?” He asks, and you bite your bottom. Your fingers are running through your folds.

“I am…” You answer. Your fingers go to your clit and you begin to circle it slowly, hearing his breathing from the other side of the phone. You imagine his hand wrapped around his cock as he thinks of you.

“Then will you touch yourself while talking to me?” He says, your fingers playing with your clit. You shut your eyes as you hear his voice, imagining that he’s your husband. But he’s not your husband, and when you remember it, you find yourself more aroused. “Will you play with your pretty little pussy for me?”

“I will, ‘Toru.” You respond, your voice sounding so sweet for him. “Only if you play with yourself as well.”

“I’ll play with myself for you, baby.” He responds, his hand wrapping around his cock. He squeezes the tip, before his hand begins to move up and down his length. “Are you looking sexy, baby? Are you naked right now? Playing with yourself at the thought of me?”

“Fuck… Yeah. I need you on top of me– Playing with my clit at the thought of you, baby.” You tell him.

“Really? I’m playing with myself thinking about you under me… Whimpering my name like the pathetic little thing you are.” He says. He lets out a whimper before he bites down his bottom lip. He can’t let the woman outside his room hear him like this. “Will you slip a finger in, baby? Will you do it for me?”

“Yeah…” You answer. You slip a finger into your cunt, letting out a soft moan to let him know that you did it. You add another finger in for your pleasure. “I put two fingers in for you…”

“Really? Oh, what a good girl.” His breathy voice sounds like music to your ears. It’s nothing like your husband’s but it reminds you of him. “God, I would do anything to watch you right now.”

“Me too-” You respond before you get an idea. You stop playing with yourself, grabbing one of your husband’s pillows and making your phone stand with it. You call him through a video call, and Satoru quickly picks it up.

“Oh, what a naughty girl.” He comments, watching as you spread your legs and you push your panties to the side to let him see as you play with yourself. Two fingers in your cunt, your soft lips apart to let your breathy moans into the air. “What a naughty fucking girl. How does your husband choose that ugly secretary over you?”

You watch him stroke his dick, being oddly quiet. Satoru isn’t loud per say, but he does make some noise. At least from your experience. Yet you don’t care too much.

“I need you inside of me so bad.” You moan empty words to get the both of you off. “Oh, fuck–”

“I’ll come over soon and fuck the shit out of you. Check what your husband is missing out on.” Satoru says. You tilt your head back, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm approaches.

“Oh, Tor–” Just as you’re about to moan his name, the sound of your phone ringing stops you. You come to a stop to check. Your husband is calling. You quickly end the call with Satoru, leaving him dry. You feel your face get warm from embarrassment as you hear your husband’s voice. You can’t believe what you were doing with his best friend.

“Hey, baby… How’s work?”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @violetsaffron5 @uhremmi @13vicey @rumi-rants @somemydayy @lilith412426 @33yaeyaeeee @iam-mia9 @m00dycr4nkybitc @cloudsinthecosmos @armincasa @staromi @hopelhss @desireness @abba-simp @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @corndogwithwings @Konekobby @tojianddabisslut @yeagerfushiguro @mochikage @chanelmalandro @katykat71114 @ur-mums-side @manidobre @itadore-you @yehet-moi-ohorat @lovemarvel16 @hellva @greenlovers @bluupen @ma-icloggedthe-toilet

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starstruckwillows · 1 year

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she’s an intellectual part ii — jesper fahey ♡

requested by @softforjungwoo <3

jesper fahey x scholar!reader, mostly fluff, bit of hurt/comfort, swearing

you meet the crows for the first time ever

part i

you spun on your chair loosely while jesper paced your room.

“do you really want this yet, jes? cos i’ll stay here, i don’t mind.”

he waved you off, “no, no, you should meet them.”

you frowned, “because you want me to, or because you’re trying to prove i’m real.”

“because i want you to. promise. they’re... kinda like my family.”

you stood up, twisting your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, “then i’d love to. and please tie your shoes before we leave, my love.” he’d tripped on them one too many times.

the ketterdam walk to nina’s birthday party was cold; jesper served as your human radiator, as ever.

“so, tell me about everyone again.” you linked your arm with his and he nodded.

“there’s kaz brekker, barrel bastard, my main man. don’t touch him, he doesn’t like it. he will definitely glare at you, and you probably won’t have a real conversation with him for like three months. he’s proper complex.”

you laughed, “he sounds delightful.”

jesper shrugged, “oh, he is, really. you just won’t see that tonight. then inej, she’s really cool. will make you jump all the time because she moves soundlessly. really nice too. don’t disrespect her saints.”

“understood.”

“matthias, ex drüskelle, massive bloke, do not try to arm wrestle him cos you won’t win. trust me. super in love with nina, and super polite. thinks we’re all crazy killers, he’ll probably love you for a change of pace.”

the thought of jesper challenging a beefy fjerdan soldier to an arm wrestle was enough to have you giggling again, but he flicked your shoulder for that, mumbling about how he ’totally stood a chance’.

he pressed on, “nina’s a heartrender, loves her waffles. bit of a sparky one but she’s lovely. don’t talk to her if she’s hungry, because she will substitute that by biting off your head. overall, she’s great.”

you could see the light in his eyes as he discussed the people he viewed so highly. even when they were all arguing and things were going to shit, they were a tight pack. you weren’t sure if you were going to integrate successfully, but you pushed that to the back of your mind.

“wylan van eck, not a smidge like his dickhead dad, so don’t worry about that. brilliant chemist, could blow you up, but would never, he’s a sweetheart. absolutely no alcohol tolerance though, so if you see him with a drink just subtly tip it into a plant.”

this wasn’t the first you’d heard of the crows, so jesper’s information was sealed well into your brain.

he knocked on the building you’d just arrived at. a restaurant, one renowned for selling waffles as desert. jesper muttered how very predictable that decision had been as he guided you to a booth table in the corner, his hand on the small of your back as you sat down.

surverying the others at the table, you deduced it was wylan and inej here already.

talking to them was easy. it felt like a warm-up for the more difficult of his friends to gain approval of.

but the evening was lovely, and while kaz effectively only spoke to you for means of a background check, you successfully bonded with the others.

jesper, despite his earlier anxiety, relaxed almost straight away and retained his usual joker persona for the majority of the meal.

there were one or two comments that he laughed at, but also squeezed your hand.

we were starting to think you were imaginary!

jesper wanted to go to the university, do you teach him things you learn?

i wasn’t sure if he was ever gonna settle down, to be honest... never seen him serious.

they weren’t meant with ill intent, and on another day it may not have bothered him in the slightest. on another day, he may have been the one making the jokes. it was probably leftover nerves, his need for his family to approve of you. or maybe he was just tired.

whatever the reason, by the time he’d walked you back to your dorm and you’d convinced him to stay the night, which didn’t take much persuasion, jesper was in need of a hug.

he just wasn’t sure where teasing ended and truth began. was he not smart enough for you?

luckily for him and his aversion to being serious, you didn’t need him to tell you how he felt. you knew exactly what was bothering him.

“they were great, i’m glad i got to meet them.” you smiled at him as you changed into sleepwear.

jesper nodded, distracted, “yeah, yeah it was good.”

you coaxed him into bed, candle burning low beside you, but you could feel how tense he remained. weaving your hand behind him to mess lightly with his curls the way you know would have him paying attention to you, you asked, “do you wanna talk about it, baby?”

jesper sighed, letting his eyes shut, “don’t know. i mean, it’s stupid, really. i know they’re kidding.”

“doesn’t matter if you believe it. do you? believe it?”

he paused, and your heart almost broke for him, before mumbling, “maybe... sometimes.”

turning his head to face you fully, his eyes opening on instinct, you answered, “do you want to know what i believe?”

he hummed his agreement.

“i think you are one of the best people i’ve ever met. you’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so good to me, and to the people you love. it’s not a coincidence you have all these people who care about you, jes. it’s okay to have these feelings, they’re human, and they aren’t stupid. i get it too, sometimes-”

as much as he was loving your speech, warmth swirling in his heart at the pure sincerity in your eyes, he cut you off there, “what? why would... what do you... what?”

“we’re different people from different worlds, jesper. we’re always going to wonder if we can truly fit in each other’s lives. but it doesn’t matter. i love you, and i know you love me. i will never give you any reason to feel insecure about that.”

he smiled, finally relaxing under your touch, and rested his forehead against yours. with the smallest, most honest whisper of thank you, he fell asleep. but not before he heard your hushed response, sweet and kind and beautiful and everything he saw you to be.

everything he knew you saw him to be.

🏷️ — @ariyabella @sw34terw34ther @ell0ra-br3kk3r @meredarling

#starstruckwillows #grishaverse #jesper fahey #scholar!reader #jesper fahey x scholar!reader #jesper fahey x reader #fluff #hurt/comfort #jesper fahey fluff #jesper fahey hurt/comfort

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pencilpat · 2 months

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Sanders Sides: College AU - Part 7

Part 1 | Previous Part

“I meant it when I said I wouldn’t mind being your weirdo forever, y’know,” Remus says quietly. “Whatever that means, I want that.”

Janus squeezes his calf and stares up at her water-stained ceiling. “Well, if that’s the truth, then you’re not going to be weird alone, at least there’s that. Fuck it, I’ll be your weirdo forever too.”

“You may now kiss the bride,” Remus says jokingly. It makes them both laugh, even if it’s not entirely a joke[...]

We see a brief moment in a long friendship. Virgil has a bad day. Patton lies and then realizes they can't for much longer. Janus and Remus have a good day, and maybe a good... forever. Whatever 'forever' means in college.

[CW: manipulation, implied homelessness, panic-induced dissociation, lying to friend/partner, gender dysphoria]

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

Remus lays upside down on the concrete barrier separating the school’s flower garden and the sidewalk boredly. He’s chewing gum sloppily, biting off tiny chunks from the whole and spitting them onto the concrete so that students will step in it.

“Ugh, nasty,” his friend Janus speaks beside him, her face both grossed out and amused with her lips quirked upward. Remus snorts out a laugh and turns around, laying on his back on the rough stone. Janus is barely focusing on a book. If she were to be honest, which she hardly ever does, she would tell her friend that she hasn’t showered in four days or eaten anything but school food in probably weeks, and it is making her book feel quite insignificant. But some dry shampoo and loose-fitting clothing hide those secrets plenty well.

In the building, the final bell for the day rings and the high school kids begin filtering out of the building to the buses and the student pick-up area. Remus and Janus try to look distracted and unapproachable so that, with any luck, everyone leaves them alone like the freaks they are. However, the only two other students who they do not want to be left alone by exit the doors and begin walking up to them.

Roman is already huffing and puffing before he gets to them. “You guys skipped again, didn’t you!” he accuses.

“No, Roman, we were just faster than you,” Janus soothes falsely, and Remus nods along with a wide grin. Their other friend, Virgil, shifts his bookbag on his shoulder nervously and darts his eyes between everyone, undoubtedly trying to decide if he should allow the two to lie to Roman. A slight raise of Janus’s eyebrow keeps him silent, looking at his shoes.

Roman sighs exaggeratedly. “Okay, fine, fine. Just don’t worry me like that!” He pulls out a brand-new mobile phone, the bedazzled red case making Remus and Virgil exchange a silly glance to secretly tease him. “Anyways, we need to get going if we’re going to beat dinner rush,” he says, starting off towards the parking lot with a wave of his hand. The other three follow behind like sheep to a herding dog, with a few grumbles and eye rolls at being made to move quickly.

Virgil and Janus hop into Janus’s car while the twins both get into Roman’s sleek sports car, much too expensive for a new driver 11th grader to have. Remus makes a face through the window at Janus, who lets out an uncharacteristic snort of a laugh, before clearing her throat and pretending that it didn’t happen as she pulls out of the parking lot. Virgil puts up the hood of his hoodie, the hand-stitched patches across it making him perhaps not as unnoticeable as he would like to be.

“Stupid fancy car,” Virgil mutters as they follow just behind Roman. Janus hums, smiling just slightly.

“Honestly, I don’t think you’d guess our cars were even together. But you know how it is with rich men and their incessant need to gloat their egos about.”

Virgil chuckles, tugging his hood lower to block out the sun as he leans against the window. “I mean, at least we get paid-for dinners as often as we’d like.”

“Oh, how grand and kind of the lovely princes to pay for commoner’s bread and butter!” Janus teases. They both giggle and settle into a comfortable silence. Virgil’s comfort is only interrupted by his usual glances towards the two duffle bags and sleeping bag poorly hidden in the back of her car. Also as usual, he says nothing about it and keeps his thoughts quiet for fear of upsetting her. Upsetting Janus is never a good option. It usually results in either weeks of silence towards him or even being yelled at if it was too egregious an offence.

At their group’s favorite Greek restaurant their cars meet up, parking right next to each other. Remus throws his (much larger) body against Virgil’s back, forcing him to hold up his weight. “Oh, I missed you two soooo much!” he says through a grin. “It may as well have been eighty years!”

Virgil makes a growling sound at him, barely holding him up. “Get off of me, idiot!” he says, though he is also smiling. Remus laughs, a high-pitched cackle of a noise, and picks himself up. Janus and Roman stare on with varying levels of amusement.

“Alright, enough goofing about, I am beyond hungry!” Roman declares, turning and walking towards the door. The other three follow once again, snickering.

They sit at a table in the back corner, a booth, with Janus and Virgil on one side and the twins on the other. The menus are large and everyone fights for space lightheartedly. Janus chuckles and Virgil hums at her. “Oh, it’s just funny that we go here so often even though not a single one of us is Greek even in the slightest, it’s ironic considering both Indian, Asian, and all South American food is, you know, fucking delicious,” she jokes, drawing a smirk and a roll of his eyes from Virgil. Janus looks over the menu. “I’ll order for you,” she whispers to him. “You know you just hate speaking to strangers,” she coaches. Virgil nods, face falling straight with a slight blush of embarrassment, feeling just a tad pathetic. He puts up his hood and sinks down slightly in his seat.

The twins both order gyros, as well as Remus ordering dolmadakis, which Roman makes a grossed-out face about. Janus orders courgette balls and a salad for herself, and keftethes for Virgil to start with. Remus then pipes up and gets himself a coffee, which Roman scolds him for after the waiter leaves; “at 5 p.m. Remus, really?!”

Virgil is fidgeting with his hoodie strings absentmindedly when Janus’s gloved hand touches his. He jolts and looks at her. “Is something wrong?” she tests, and though her face is straight, Virgil can sense that there’s ulterior meaning to the question even if he doesn’t know what it is.

“Uh- no, I’m good. I’m good.”

She hums. “You just looked anxious-“

“No, yeah, I’m good,” Virgil nods, giving a weak thumbs up. Janus smiles at him a tad too warmly, then turns to join the conversation with the twins.

“I’m telling you Remus, drinking six cups of coffee a day is ridiculous, there’s something wrong wrong with you,” Roman bites at him.

Remus laughs, very loudly for such a small space, causing other diners to glance at their table. “Roman you already knew there was shit wrong with me, don’t pretend,” he says shoving Roman’s arm. Roman shoves back at him, until they’re all but wrestling in the booth.

“The way I see it, speaking objectively, there is shit severely wrong with both of you,” Janus teases casually, leaning on her arm. Hungry and in a lot of physical discomfort in general, she subtly rubs the fabric of her gloves against her cheek, the stim calming her into a small sigh. Virgil glances at her and she nods at him to tell that she’s fine. Happy, even, Virgil, so don’t ask her again.

The food comes and they dig in heartily, all chatting in circles and laughing. The dinner passes fast, and before they know it Roman is paying with their parents’ card and ushering everyone outside. Roman says goodbye a tad dramatically with a bow, and Remus dramatically hugs Janus goodbye, bowing and kissing both her and Virgil’s hands to tease Roman. They all share some final giggles, and part back into the separate cars.

Virgil buckles in as Janus starts the car to drive him home. “So,” he speaks, voice cracking just slightly. “Will your parents be upset about you ruining your dinner or-“

“Virgil,” Janus says sharply, a warning in her voice. Virgil flinches and draws back. Janus sighs. “My parent’s opinions don’t matter, there’s no need to worry about me.” She shoots him a comforting smile in his peripheral, and he nods tautly.

Janus pulls out of the parking lot, sighing, happy to have actually eaten nicely, Virgil’s attempts at prying not spoiling her mood. Virgil sighs as well, subconsciously mimicking her calm mood. When they get to his house, his mothers have left the porch light on for him, and he can see one of them watching T.V. just inside the front window. He hesitates in her car, hand half outstretched to the door handle.

“Janus?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

He glances towards the back of her car one more time, but he doesn’t have enough nerve. “Nothing. Just- Have a good night, okay?”

“Okay,” she says softly, touching his hand with her gloved fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She says it as a statement not a question, even though it’s a Friday, so Virgil nods, and he gets out of her car. He watches her leave from his porch, sucks in a deep, deep breath, and slinks guiltily into his warm, happy home.

“Virgil?”

Someone is calling his name, but it’s not yet loud enough to pull him out of his dazed stare, still adrift in his memories with his eyes blurrily fixed on a phone with a food delivery app open that was placed in his hand. He’s just barely registering the food names, chewing his lip roughly.

“Virge!” Roman says again, at a shout this time.

“Huh- whu?” Virgil shakes his head and blinks hard to refocus his eyes. They settle on Roman’s own, right in front of his face. “Oh, sorry. What are we doing?”

“Getting food? Are you okay?” Roman quirks his head at him, frowning.

Virgil tries to block out the memories he was having, taking in a deep breath. “I’m okay, yeah.” His lips press together tightly when he looks at the screen. “Can we… not do Greek food?”

Roman nods in immediate understanding, taking his phone and going back outside of the bedroom to Patton for the two of them to choose new foods. Patton makes a small noise of confusion when he reappears so quickly, tilting their head at him.

Roman sighs, plopping down onto the couch heavily. “Something’s up with Virgil, 100%.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

Roman pinches his lips together, side-eyeing his friend. "I don't know," he lies. "Have you noticed anything?"

"No, maybe just some extra anxious thinking," Patton hums.

Roman's lips squeeze thinner together, alarmed that Patton hasn’t noticed the changes in their own partner’s demeanor, and he licks them to steady himself. "Virgil has been worried about you, I've noticed. He says you've been kind of... distant. Gone most of the time and not spending time with him."

Patton's eyes widen, and they bite their lip, not looking at Roman. "What are you um.. saying?"

"Nothing, bud!" Roman suddenly tries to course correct. "I wasn't trying to imply things."

"Okay," Patton says, putting on a tone of upset suspicion. They need to throw him off somehow, it can't become a common thing to question where they are or they'll end up having to admit to the drinking and sneaking out. Which they absolutely cannot do. "Roman, I'm- You wouldn't think I would lie to him or- or cheat on him, do you?" They let their eyes tear up, touching his leg.

Roman blinks at them, mouth hanging open for a moment. "Pat, no, of course not."

"O-okay," Patton sniffles. "I'm just… under a lot of stress. I didn't realize Virgil was upset with me."

"Oh, he's not! He's not upset, Patton," Roman says, frowning as the suspicion turns to concern. Thankfully. "Virgil has been struggling too and I think you- You sort of accidentally made each other nervous is all?" Roman suggests.

Patton nods, faux wiping at their eyes a bit. "As long as he's not upset." And they mean that part genuinely, even if they are making secret friends and behaving so recklessly, making Virgil upset would make them feel horrible.

"Of course he's not, you're okay. Do you need me to tell him you've been struggling? If it's the depression or the OCD I can call your psychiatrist for you, even."

Patton closes their eyes and lays against Roman's shoulder. "No, I can make the appointments. I- I should do that anyway. Roman, you're a very good friend."

Roman feels warmth in his chest and he smiles, proud of himself. "Aw, anything for you, puffball," he jokes, bumping his shoulder into them. "Anyway, we need to choose a different place for food! Virgil was upset when I went in and asked for no Greek." Patton nods and takes the phone. They feel a worm of guilt in their stomach over Virgil being upset.

"How about I go take the phone to him?" Patton suggests. Roman waves for them to do so. They go to their bedroom, and find Virgil on his stomach under his dark purple weighted blanket.

"Need some more weight, shadow?" they call out to him. He looks up to them miserably and nods. Patton lays their chest along his back, half on the bed half off. Virgil sighs pleasantly, which makes Patton giggle. "What sort of food did you want? Roman told me you said no Greek, why so?"

Virgil sighs shakily. "Bad memories. We... we ate it a lot in high school, the friend group." 'The' friend group, as though separating himself from it, Patton notes. "I was on a thought loop about it all, couldn't get myself to calm down and ended up spacing out. I- I don't know, I could feel her gloves on my arm and stuff. Not good."

"Gloves?" Patton says. "I thought the friend group was here, not in Minnesota."

"Oh, she would always wear them no matter the weather. I dunno, probably a thing with the vitiligo, like how Roman wears them. He gave the idea to her back then."

"Janus had- had vitiligo, and wore gloves?" They feel their heartbeat skip, eyebrows furrowing up.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I know I never tell you anything about her. Just too upsetting." Virgil's chest rises and falls heavily under them. Patton doesn't reply, as the nickname of 'J' on such a similar looking woman turns their gut. J initial, vitligo, gloves. J initial, vitiligo, gloves. There's hardly been anyone Patton's met that fits all three at once. "Anyway, uh, food." Virgil moves under them and they sit up to allow him to turn around before distantly laying against his chest instead, handing Roman's phone to him. J, vitiligo, gloves. Did she know, somehow, or is this town just tiny - is this a scheme or pure coincidence?

"Pat, bluebell?" Virgil looks at them with a frown, turning their face to meet his eyes.

"Sorry-" Patton blinks heavily to draw themselves to the present moment. "I'm more tired than I realized, I think. Hungry still, though!" They laugh and thankfully Virgil smiles at them and playfully rolls his eyes. believing them fully as always.

"Yeah? How about Anne's? You feeling up for some chicken and pizza?"

"You know it," they say, a bit more breathless and exhausted than they would like to hear their own voice ever sound again.

Not for the first time since he moved in with her, Janus wakes up in Remus’s bed, with him on the floor of the kitchen. She brushes hair out of her face, blinking in discomfort as she realizes she fell asleep without removing her contacts or even her daytime clothes. They watched movies til the late hours again, and Remus never moves her once she’s asleep. She groans with pain as she sits up; the couch bed really is just awful. She glances over his lower half peeking from behind the island, questioning how he’s been doing it for a month and a half now. She immediately takes out both of the contacts, just in case. Janus gets up, wobbling on her sticks of legs. “Remus,” she says, kicking his leg. “Remus get up.”

Remus snorts awake, blinking at her in the light. “H-whuh?” he says, intelligently. Janus smirks despite herself. His hair is twice as messy as usual.

“We’re going to get breakfast or coffee somewhere, get up.”

Remus sits up, cracking his back with his hands. “Ughhhh, why? You’ve never wanted to go anywhere with me. Even in highschool.” He says it as a fact rather than something he’s insulted by, but Janus bites the inside of her cheek with guilt anyhow.

“Well, I guess you must be special. Enough to be worth my social time and effort.” She examines her nails as though disinterested in him, but he is too busy beaming with a smile as he wakes further to notice.

“Sweet! Fuck yeah! I’m paying,” he says, shimmying to his feet and running around to gather a proper outfit.

“Uh, no, we can both just pay for our own.”

“Janussss!” he whines at her, frowning. “Lemme pay, just one time, please?” He flashes her with very big, watery eyes that she knows are fake, but can’t help listening to anyway. She doesn’t need his money, but… he just doesn’t stop offering. So, she reasons with herself that she’ll have to let him pay eventually, and it may as well be now. She rolls her eyes with a smile.

“Fine. Once.”

Remus cackles with victory and begins undressing, uncaring that she’s here. She feels her cheeks darken with blush despite herself. “Oh, you have way more tattoos than I thought,” she says, trying to keep a breathless tone out of her voice with a more casual topic.

Remus pauses and straightens up to show them off, hands on his hips. There are the typical ones on his arms that she’s seen before, obscene jokes. “Fisting record” in between two solid black lines all the way on his shoulder, the barbed wire above it, and a pair of actual scissors ‘scissoring’. There’s a line of black barbed wire along his collar bone that must’ve hurt like a bitch to get, but that’s just the start. There are two matching barking dogs on each of his hips, and the word ‘wild’ between them on his lower stomach in a cringe inducingly intense font. On his chest and stomach are dotted lines like markings made before a vivisection to guide the scalpel. There’s a large rose on the muscle of one of his pectorals, black with a green thorned stem that traces a circle around his nipple. A butterfly in a particular style on one part of his stomach, most likely a symbol of sorts though one Janus doesn’t recognize. The rest of his stomach is dotted with very amateur looking, upside down stick and poke tattoos. And that’s just the ones on his front side.

“Aren’t they sick as fuck?” Remus smiles, his full teeth showing with the amount of pride he seems to have over them.

Janus clears her throat with a cough. “Yeah, they look very nice.”

“Wanna touch em?”

“Remus, what?” Janus laughs. ”I have tattoos too, they don’t feel any different than skin.”

“You have tattoos and didn’t tell me?!”

“Yes, only two,” she sighs. “They’re kind of known for being expensive, and, well-”

“Show me, show me!” he begs, running over to her and touching her arms. She tries not to let her breathing stutter at him, mostly-naked, feeling just fine to run up and touch her.

“Are you subtly asking me to strip, Carmona?”

“Huh? No, I wouldn’t do that subtly if I was going to!” he says, tone cheeky but honest.

Janus sighs and, thankful to at least still have on a bra right now, pulls up her sweater to show them. “There’s a moth on my hipbone, see, and there’s a snake along my chest. That’s all.” She lowers her shirt to his intense gaze. “Can we refocus on getting food? I’m starving.”

“Right!” Remus says, turning around to hide just how flustered seeing her chest made him. He for once realizes that his nudity might be affecting someone, seeing as her just pulling up her shirt has gotten him so embarrassed. “Where you wanna go?”

“There’s a diner a mile or two away, it’d be a few minutes driving. They’re very stereotypically American but I wouldn’t be one to say no to well-made breakfast food and burgers.”

Remus has pulled on a shirt, a ratty looking band t-shirt specifically, one that she thinks he might’ve had since high school, and cargo pants by the time she finishes the sentence. “I wouldn’t be one either, let’s go!” He grabs her wrist and starts to tug towards the door.

“Remus, wait, I need my glasses, some gloves and probably to change too, I slept in this.”

Remus pauses looking at her. “You look fine though? I don’t see anything wrong with it, you wear that or a similar sweater like every day anyway.”

“Gloves,” she insists, her voice a bit more desperate than she would like it to sound.

Remus pauses, taking both of her bare hands in his. “Jan, look,” he says, gesturing to their hands. She does look, taking in both of their hands splotched by paler patches. “Nothing to be ashamed over, ok?” he promises. “If anyone said anything I’d kick their ass.”

Janus takes a breath in, eyes closing. “I- I can’t, I’m sorry.” She pulls away her hands and walks to her room to grab a pair of her gloves, leaving a slightly dejected looking Remus behind. In her room she stares at her skin, breathing uneven. It’s not that a skin condition should cause, well, anyone shame, it’s that it’s her skin. It’s her. She doesn’t really like any part of her appearance, and that includes the largest visible organ she was saddled with. The vanity mirror catches her face, and she tries to not look at how square her jaw is or thick her eyebrows are or how covered by the uneven coloration she is or how ugly she is without some makeup to feminize her- Catching herself being so needlessly hateful to herself embarrasses her and she shakes her head out, leaving the room and the mirror behind while barely remembering to grab her glasses. Whatever, Remus was always there to make her look better by comparison anyway, she thinks bitterly.

They get into Remus’s truck without many more words exchanged, and Janus leans on the window when they begin to drive after putting the location into Remus’s GPS. Remus looks at her from the corner of his eyes, chewing on his lip and biting skin off of it. She looks so normal, and he doesn’t understand it. She’s so averagely dressed, and so pretty, the only outwardly odd thing to him being her dyed hair, which is cool! She should love how she looks! But he always felt that way about Roman too, and he acts the same over being seen naked or gloveless. Maybe he should get it, being that he has a skin condition too, but he just doesn’t. Uniqueness like theirs is only beautiful to him, and he’s always considered it rather stupid to think otherwise.

“Hey, Janus?” he asks, breaking the quiet.

“Mmh?”

“Why do people think being weird is a bad thing?”

Janus blinks at him, unsure of the right answer to that. “Well, uh… Humans aren’t very nice to each other even among basic bitches, so there’s even more likeliness if there’s specific things to pick on you for – things that stand out, good or bad.”

“Yeah but- but why?!” Remus’s fingers drum on his steering wheel, his face creasing, with worry or anger he’s not certain. “It’s just- It’s stupid to me! Being different is just a fact, like, every single human is different! We’re not clones or mass-produced dolls.”

“People don’t really see it that way, Remus,” she sighs. “Humans tend to group together based on sameness just on an instinctive and community-based level. In group and outsiders.”

“That’s such culty shit though, and not the cool movie kind.”

“It’s just cliques, tribes, groups, packs, herds – community. It’s normal for more species than just people.”

“People are the only ones who are so smart yet act so fucking dumb about it!” he says, seeming more annoyed than angry. “Like animals beating the shit out of each other just happens because they’re entirely instinct and survival based - humans aren’t that! We’ve got so much brain power being used on nothing.”

“People are just like that,” she says.

“People like hurting each other, I know that,” he grumbles. “People have always liked hurting me because I’m so different and weird, and I am different and weird, so they’re right, I guess. I know people just wanna hurt me and laugh at me at this point. People like hurting weirdos even when it’s not right,” he says. Janus feels something painful rising in her chest at how… casually he’s saying this, like they’re factual statements rather than the opinions of assholes. “But I just feel like it makes no sense, to me myself and I.”

He sighs. “Like you, you’re the prettiest most normal looking person ever,” Janus feels her cheeks get hot as he continues, “but because of, what, a skin condition? You’re weird? We both got bullied like crazy even though you’re gorgeous and I’m hot as fuck! They shouldn’t do that to you!”

“They shouldn’t do that to you,” she snaps in agreement, coming out sadder than she intended. “You’re not a weirdo. You’re right, it makes no sense. It- it makes no sense.” She wipes at her face and looks at the floor of his car.

He touches her shoulder, though he’s no longer looking at her. “Glad we agree on that, at least,” he laughs, high and subtly strained, squeezing at her. He pulls the car into the parking lot the GPS tells him to, parking and slapping his own legs, smiling at her. “Let’s go eat, mkay? Anything you want, it’s how I’ll make up for rent since I’ve been here bothering you so long.”

“Remus, you’re not-“

He gets out of the car before she continues, and she huffs and tries to follow him, cursing and struggling to right herself in her crutches from how high his truck is. He seems to notice at the door, and rushes back over to her, reaching to help. She groans, frustrated by herself and her body and her inability to comfort him and fix it for him and be a good person and- and-

“Janus, hey, breathe,” he suddenly mutters at her, his hand brushing her hair out of where it had become stuck to her lip. She looks up at him and he’s frowning in sympathy for her – for her as though he’s not the one clearly hurting so much. She feels herself drawing back to snap at him or reply to the help angrily, but it deflates from her chest before it leaves, her head slumping on his shoulder for a second. He seems unsure of how to respond to that, just going still and letting her rest there.

“You’re smarter than most humans, Remus,” she says quietly by his ear. “Smarter, nicer, and cooler, too.”

Remus chuckles, nervous, patting her back. “Aw, Janus, there’s no need for all that. Let’s just go eat. You said they have food you like, let me buy it for you. You deserve it now especially, complimenting me all sweet.” He helps her get into her crutches more securely, and she silently lets him take her inside.

Both feel better as their meal goes on, talking about nothing at all yet such important things. The food is fatty and filling and salty, which Remus will not stop complimenting, and Janus laughs. She laughs so much around him, more than she has her entire life. She keeps trying to thank him for that, to somehow say it without having to say it – but as she’s driven home with a full stomach, finally fully having let him pay for her and take care of her, even if a small amount, she realizes that it must be said.

“Thank you, Remus,” she says to him.

He hums distractedly, half glancing at her as he drives.

“Thank you. For- for-“ she shuts her eyes, and tries to force words out of her mouth even though her brain wants to shut them down. “Thank you for being here. Making me laugh and trying to make me feel good. Just- You’re so-“ She feels her eyes watering, and looks fully over to him, finding him watching her much more than the road. “You’re a really good person. A really good- good- I- Thank you.”

Remus tries to keep a neutral face and fit with her serious tone, but he can’t help the small bewildered smile that does escape him. It’s the most honest tone he’s ever heard her use, in high school or now. It gives him butterflies and makes him nauseous and makes him happy and sad and every emotion at once. “Janus-“ he lets a tiny laugh out, his chest shaking slightly. “What are you saying right now, you’re acting funny.”

She touches his arm, and he realizes one of her gloves is off. She takes his hand, and they look like they belong there, together. But she can’t say what she wants to, because she doesn’t fully want it to be what she wants. Remus has stopped at a stop sign, and he just stares back at her. Gazes locked and not doing or saying anything but breathing. Janus leans, and pulls him into a hug across the empty middle seat. She hears him exhales beside her ear, and then he hugs back, tightly, gripping his fingers into her sweater.

They just sit there until cars come behind the truck and begin to honk at them, and Remus lets go with a laugh as he rolls down his window and flips the other car off before speeding forward. Janus notices the light hit wetness on his cheeks as she wipes it from her own as well. “Let’s get home,” Remus says, shaking his head and grinning. Home, Janus thinks as she lays back against the window and shuts her eyes. Not just 'Janus's shitty empty apartment' – home.

Remus flops face first on the couch bed when they do get there, Janus pausing at the door to put away her crutches. She doesn’t go to her room, though. She lays down facing the opposite direction on Remus’s bed, their feet and heads on opposite ends. Remus flops his arm over her legs, and when he does, she touches his legs as well.

“I meant it when I said I wouldn’t mind being your weirdo forever, y’know,” Remus says quietly. “Whatever that means, I want that.”

“You may now kiss the bride,” Remus says jokingly. It makes them both laugh, even if it’s not entirely a joke. Whatever. They have forever to figure it out, after all.

#sanders sides #college au #sanders sides au #sasi au #tss au #tss human au #sanders sides human au #sanders sides fanfic #sasi fanfic #tss fanfic #dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders

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abbatoirablaze · 4 months

Text

Trapped, Soldier Boy

Word Count: 749

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you whimpered; the straps biting into your body as you attempted to fight off another orgasm.

“All you have to do is tell me what I want to know,” he growled huskily as he hungrily eyed your body, “and I can make this all stop!”

“I-I’m not working-for-the-oh god!” you moaned as the cord snapped and you fell over he edge into another orgasm. You bit down hard enough on your bottom lip to draw blood as his fingers worked expertly inside of you. His fingers continued to massage your g-spot, making your body shudder until you were practically seizing against the restraints, “PLEASE! OH FUCK! PLEASE!”

Suddenly he pulled out, leaving you a gasping mess.

Your thighs were shaking as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and slurped down your juices, “you’ve quite the mouth on you…nasty little slut…your pussy feels too tight to be fucking those Russians you work with!”

“I-I’m not-I don’t,” you gasped breathlessly as you fought your own body to try to tell him that you weren’t employed by the Russians, “please…I-I don’t work for them!”

“So you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Soldier boy scoffed as his brow raised, “yeah right!”

Your thighs involuntarily clenched at the way he looked at you.

His hands slid back along your naked form and you whimpered as you felt the hard leather from the palm of his glove trail against your thigh.

“I swear!” you whimpered softly, shaking your head, still breathless, “please-please!”

Beside him, Gunpowder was twitching, “I-I can get her to talk, Soldier Boy. Let me have a go at her.”

Soldier boy’s brow rose once more as he looked at his sidekick, “you think a pathetic thing like you can show a woman her place? Dream on, angel dust! You wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman like her. Prime body made for taking on a man…your little dick probably would spurt off before you got in her.”

“But Soldier Boy…”

“Fuck off,” he growled. The younger supe frowned and Soldier Boy turned to him once again, “I SAID GET LOST!”

The dejected jumped ever so slightly, before disappearing out of the room.

You could feel your heart racing now that you were alone with the leader of Payback.

Sure, you’d seen him around Vought, but you were just an assistant to one of the mid-level men. You’d never actually dealt with any superheroes.

He smirked as he turned back to you, some hair getting in his face, “we’re all alone now, sweetheart…I can do whatever I want to you…”

“P-please…”

He stalked towards you and stopped at the table you were strapped to. You attempted to swallow down your nervousness as you caught the large bulge in his pants.

You gasped.

“I’m going to be honest,” he shrugged, “Because it’s fucking Christmas…I know you’re not working for the Russians…you’re just an empty-headed little assistant…but your boss…well, I’ve got Countess frying his ass up ten ways to Sunday because we have proof on him. But I’m not going to let you off the hook so easily…”

“Wh-what are you talking about.”

He started undressing himself as he looked at you, “this can go down one of two ways…you can be a nice, sweet little thing…and do what I say. You’ll leave this room and I’ll take care of whatever little bastard I fuck into you…or you get nasty. In which case, I get nasty. And after I fuck you mindless, which won’t be hard…because you’re a stupid little bitch, you disappear. For good. And I have Countess char you up so much that you look like some spare charcoal for the grill. So what’s your choice?”

You stared nervously at the superhero before your eyes met the door.

“Oh, don’t even think about that option, sweetheart,” he chuckled, hanging his suit over the back of the only chair in the room, “see…you try that option, I rough you up…then I fuck you so much that that tight little pussy turns into a hole so big I can shove Gunpowder’s head up it after I’m done…”

You whimpered, terrified of what the superhero was saying.

Your eyes flickered back to him, and you gasped, seeing him in all his naked glory.

He smirked, “so which way you wanna go, sweetheart? I can give you a pretty good life if you let me have that tight little cunt willingly.”

#25 days of christmas #amazon tv #the boys #payback #soldier boy #drabble #trapped #superhero #gunpowder #smut

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emotionalcadaver · 1 year

Text

Part 5: A Sleepless Dream

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Robert Fischer x OC

Summary: While on a business trip, Alice and Robert’s repressed feelings for one another begin to present problems.

Word Count: 5,096

Notes: Now they both need to be sent to horny jail. Warnings for depictions of sexual content and masturbation.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 6: Play Pretend

“So I have some bad news.”

Looking up from her book, she watched as he lifted the feet she’d had sprawled out on the couch so he could sit down, immediately settling them in his lap the moment he was situated. Robert’s fingers stroked mindlessly along her ankle as he spoke.

“What?”

“My penthouse in Los Angeles is going to still be under construction while we’re there, so we’ll have to stay in a hotel.”

Every two weeks, Robert had to fly to Los Angeles for work. As his assistant, it was expected that Alice would accompany him during those trips. A relief, to be honest. She didn’t like the idea of being separated from him for so long.

Maybe she was getting clingy.

“Damn.”

He shot her an apologetic look. “Sorry.” Shrugging, she placed her bookmark in between the pages of her book and set it on the side table. “It’s not your fault.”

“How long has it been since you were back?” he asked after a moment.

“Long time. At least a year,” biting her lip, she wrapped her arms around herself. “I haven’t told any of my family that I’ll be back in the area,” guilt churned in her stomach at that. But much as she knew that she should visit her siblings and parents, the idea of being in a room with any of them was enough to make her want to tear at her hair and scream. She already knew how any visit she made to them would go: her mother would fuss about everything she thought Alice was doing wrong. Celia would sneer, and make some vile comment that Alice would pretend didn’t bother her even as her self esteem slowly crumbled. David would try his best to be pleasant, despite how clear it was that there was next to nothing for them to talk about. Her father’s eyes would look right through her, little more than a hello and a good-bye uttered between them. Tracey would cling to her arm, demanding to hear everything Alice had been up to while she was away, still desperately attempting to reignite the friendship she had destroyed when she decided to fuck and marry Alice’s father.

“You don’t owe them shit,” Robert said comfortingly.

“I know,” sighing, she tipped her head back against the couch. A part of her wished that she had the strength to cut them all off for good. No more phone calls, or presents sent in the mail. No emails. No contact whatsoever. “I wish that I could just let them all go.”

“It’s hard,” he acknowledged. Her lips pulled into a sad, grateful smile. If anyone understood what it was like to deal with difficult family members, it was Robert.

“Yeah.”

His fingers began to message into the spot on her ankle that sometimes ached for no reason at all.

“What time is our flight tomorrow?”

He gave her a kind smile. “Alice.”

“What?”

“It’s my plane. They leave when I get there.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I usually try to leave around nine o’clock.”

“Okay,” she checked the time. “Fuck. I should probably start packing,” she made no move to get up. Robert raised an eyebrow.

“Are you going to…?”

“I’m building up the motivation to move,” she huffed, even as she sank deeper into the cushions.

“Well. While you do that,” he snagged the remote from the coffee table. “I’m gonna watch a movie.”

Head ever so slightly tilted, she watched as the light from the television reflected in his eyes. The soft curve of his nose and the lovely prettiness of his features. He was still partially dressed for work, wearing his dress pants and white button-down, suspenders hooked over each shoulder. But he’d shed his suit jacket and tie sometime after they’d arrived home. Alice bit her lip. It would be lying to say that the look wasn’t doing it for her.

Feeling a sudden swell of boldness, she pulled her legs from his lap, scooting closer until their sides were pressed together. Drawing in a deep breath, she let her head settle against his chest, an arm wrapped loosely around his waist. Robert’s breath stuttered at her movements, and for a moment she was terrified that he might shove her away, until one of his arms looped around her shoulders, fingers stroking through her hair.

“I thought you were going to go get packed,” his chest buzzed beneath her ear from his voice, a quiet chuckle rumbling against her cheek.

“Shut up.”

He just laughed again, head falling to rest on top of hers as the movie started to play.

∗ ∗ ∗

Alice didn’t need to check to know that the hotel was incredibly, ridiculously expensive. In the past, she liked to think that she’d done well for herself. Mal and Dom had paid her a decent salary for her contributions to their research. But damn, sometimes she almost forgot just how unfathomably rich Robert and his family were.

The room was spacious and beautiful, with gold accenting on the ceiling, a heavy, wooden wardrobe in the corner, a plush couch near the windows that covered an entire wall. The bed had more pillows on it than she could count, and a canopy stretching out over it. Had she not already been half asleep from the full day of travel, she would have taken more time to more properly appreciate it. Instead she tossed her suitcase into a corner of the room and rubbed at her eyes. The bed looked so damn inviting that she was tempted to just face plant in the middle of it and pass out right then and there.

Wait.

It took her exhausted brain a rather long time to process that there was only one bed in the room. Eyes widening, she glanced at Robert, who smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. The hotel was already mostly booked out. They only had rooms with one bed available. I can take the couch.”

Raising her hand to cover a yawn, she shook her head. “We can share, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“You’re sure?” there was something in his eyes that she couldn’t place. Alice shrugged. “Okay.”

Nodding assuredly, she just barely managed to mumble out something resembling words about getting in the shower to Robert, who shot her a fond look. Watching him walk gracefully out onto the balcony to take a few phone calls, she allowed herself just a short moment to appreciate the lovely lean lines of his body wrapped in an expensive dark suit and white button-down.

Shaking her head, she made her way into the massive bathroom. The entire floor was made out of white marble, the biggest bathtub she’d ever seen in the corner. Making a mental note to try to fit some time in to use it during their stay, she instead stumbled in and out of the shower, already in a half asleep daze. Robert was busy talking to someone–probably Peter–on the phone out on the balcony, looking infuriatingly well put together for someone who had just gotten off of a ten hour flight. As she curled up in bed she could hear him fumbling about, too interested in wrapping herself in a cocoon with the comforter to pay him much mind. She was just barely beginning to doze when she felt the bed shift as he got in beside her, flicking off the light and pulling the blankets up around himself.

The last time they had slept in the same bed together had been a long time ago, and she was suddenly struck with the memory of the two of them plastered together in her little twin bed, as they had always done from the first time they had a sleepover as children.

It had been a common occurrence, even more so after his mother died. Maurice had been such a fantastically horrible father that Robert would often go out of his way to spend as much time away from him as possible. And her parents never minded having him over. Hell, she knew for a fact that her mother had been betting on Alice and Robert getting together. With the added hope that Robert would knock Alice up and secure a slice of the Fischer fortune for them.

She let her eyes flutter open to look at him. Robert was laying on his side facing her, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. He looked younger that way, more peaceful. Shoulders more relaxed and brow less furrowed. It was like a massive weight had suddenly been lifted off of his shoulders. A sudden force of anger flooded up inside her, deep and roiling. Damn Maurice for making him feel like that entire fucking company rested on him, for putting that tension in his son’s shoulders, those bags of stress under his eyes. She should have taken him with her, she thought with no small amount of regret. Stolen him away. They could have lived freely, traveling the world as they worked with Dom, Mal, Arthur, and Eames. She bit her lip at the thought. Robert and Eames together would make quite the entertaining duo.

She had forced herself not to think about how much she had missed him. She’d gotten so used to the ache of not having him with her, that she had almost forgotten that it was there. But now that she had him back, she couldn’t understand how she had lived all those years without him.

All of a sudden, she couldn’t sleep. Too intensely aware of the feeling of the mattress under her back, the blanket shifting around her, the warmth of Robert curled up beside her. She flipped onto one side, and then back onto the other.

After more tossing and turning she felt a stir beside her and suddenly Robert was plastered up against her back, his arm around her waist and pulling her close as he nestled himself up against her. His nose pressed into her temple with a sigh.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, hoping that he couldn’t feel how hard her heart was pounding in her chest. Robert just gave her a little squeeze and fitted his cheek more comfortably against the top of her head.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he whispered. Her stomach swooped at the nickname. And while her mind was still buzzing, Robert was comfy and warm. It amazed her, how easily they’d slipped right back into the way things had been before, like no time had passed at all.

“‘Night, Robbie,” she breathed back, letting her eyes slip closed when he purred at the nickname. She knew that later she would look back at this memory with the same aching longing that she did with all of her other memories of him. But for now, with Robert holding her and the anticipation of the peace that sleep promised, she could allow herself to pretend that what she yearned for was real.

Just for a little bit.

∗ ∗ ∗

She woke up to soft sunlight bleeding through the curtains. The chirps of birds outside. Robert’s arm, heavy where it was still wrapped around her. His chest warm against her, breaths gently stirring her hair and tickling her neck.

And something poking insistently against the small of her back.

Her eyes snapped open, breath catching in her throat as she tensed, cheeks turning the color of a tomato within the span of a few seconds. Fuck. Well…um. Shit.

She did not have even an inkling of an idea how to handle this situation. For a moment she considered elbowing him awake, but the idea of the embarrassment and awkwardness that could cause them both was a little more than she could handle. Attempting to wriggle free and out of bed would more than likely wake him up as well.

So instead she just laid there, silently curled up with Robert draped around her, trying to distract herself by focusing on the artwork mounted on the wall and not the morning wood currently pressed up against her. But her mind was of little help, only supplying her with abstract thoughts along the lines of: big, warm, thick, wonder what he would feel like in her palm or buried inside of her–

She was saved by Robert stirring in his sleep, swiftly closing her eyes and breathing regularly to simulate the appearance of still being asleep. He groaned softly with wakefulness, very slowly pulling away, and she secretly mourned the loss of him tucked up against her, erection included.

Once she heard the bathroom door close behind him, she opened her eyes and sat up. Rubbing at her face, a whimper escaped her lips when she closed her eyes, images flashing behind them of what they could possibly be doing, had she rolled over and woken him up by cupping his cock in her hand…

No, no, no, no. She could not start thinking about that. He was her friend. It was wrong.

But still that did nothing to alleviate the longing pangs in her chest.

∗ ∗ ∗

They were running down the hallway, hands clutched tight to each other, taking random turns, cutting through offices. Robert glanced anxiously over his shoulder.

“They’re getting closer,” he warned.

“I know,” Alice said, and he couldn’t help but warily eye the gun clutched in the hand not holding his. Behind him sounded a crash as the projections broke through another door.

Turning suddenly, Alice led him down a long hallway, then skidded to such a sudden stop that he almost crashed into her. Shouldering open the door to a closet, she dragged him inside with her, slamming the door shut, wedging a chair from the stack in the corner under the handle.

The closet was tiny. So much shit stacked in it that there was only a small space left for them to move around. Alice was squished firmly to his front, and in the darkness he could barely make out her holding a finger to her lips in a silent shush. He nodded, swallowing hard as the sound of the stampede of projections grew closer. Suddenly frightened, he wrapped his arms around her waist, burrowing his head into her neck and closing his eyes. He knew that death in a dream just meant he would wake up, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to experience getting torn limb from limb by a pack of feral projections hungry for blood.

The sounds of them racing past the door was louder than thunder, feet rumbling against the floor. Robert was barely breathing, he was trying so hard to remain quiet. One of Alice’s hands fist in the back of his shirt, holding onto him tightly.

Finally, finally the sounds of the projections ceased. Both relaxing slightly, Alice leaned back to squint up at him in the dark.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Running a hand through her hair, she shook her head, leaning her ear against the door. “We should stay here for a while. They might still be looking for us in the building,” she blew out her cheeks, brow knitting. “This is my fault. I’m sorry.”

“What even caused them to come after us like that?”

“I was changing too many things. Manipulating the world too much. The more you do that, the faster the projections attack.”

“Oh,” he was having a hard time focusing. They were too closely squeezed together. He could feel her breasts pressing against him, one of his hands having found purchase against the curve of her hip. She smelled like the vanilla and lavender soap she liked, the scent making his head spin with want. Squeezing his eyes shut did little alleviate it; if anything making him even more aware of how she felt flush against him.

Push her up against the wall, kiss her neck. Would she moan when he rolled his hips against her? When his hands dug into the flesh of her thighs, oh god–

A whine left his lips without permission, and Alice took the sound to be a sign of fear, sliding her fingers through his hair in an attempt to be soothing, but only further igniting the arousal in his gut. Robert was desperately trying to keep his hips as far away from her as possible, so that she wouldn’t feel the bulge growing in his pants as a result of their closeness.

Throwing himself out into the hallway and at the mercy of the projections was seeming more and more appealing.

“We don’t have long until the clock runs out,” Alice mumbled.

“How long?” did his voice sound normal? He hoped that it sounded normal, and not like the garbled gibberish of arousal currently spinning through his mind.

“Hm. Five minutes? Maybe a little less?”

Okay. Five minutes. He can handle that.

Maybe.

Except Alice was moving against him, trying to get more comfortable, probably. But every little shift put in her greater danger of bumping against his erection, which was only fueled by the brushes of their skin against each other.

God. If she knew what he was thinking about…she’d probably be disgusted by him. Or rightfully furious.

On her next movement, she came alarmingly close to bumping his hips with hers, and in frantic surprise he jumped away. She almost lost her balance, letting out a quiet yelp as she teetered on her feet before he caught her.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, clearly a bit stunned. But she stopped moving around so much.

God, she was so soft and warm nestled against him like this.

It was getting harder to hide his clear affection for her. And then she went and did things like cuddle up to his chest while watching movies on the couch or tease him until he turned red while at the office and it took everything in him not to pull her into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Or fall to his knees, arms around her waist as he blurted out the words he’d wanted to tell her since they were children. To try to somehow find a way to accurately summarize the depths of his feelings for her.

But the idea of losing her again left him paralyzed. He wasn’t sure if he could survive her leaving a second time.

“Soon, now,” Alice said, and he wondered if she’d been counting the seconds in her head. Not trusting his voice, he nodded weakly. “Sorry that this session turned into a bit of a mess.”

“It’s okay,” he croaked, eyes focusing straight ahead.

“Projections can be finicky.”

“Do they all turn violent like that?”

She was quiet for a long moment. “No. Not all of them.”

“Why not?”

“Projections can take the shape of people we know in everyday life. Usually they’ll have some semblance of their personalities in the real world, but because they’re made from our own subconscious, they’ll also carry the biases and interpretations that you have about them too,” a tiny, humorless laugh left her lips. “Which is probably why my projection of Celia is a major fucking bitch. But it also means that those projections can only be as violent as your mind can actually conceivably imagine them to be.”

“Okay…”

“My projection of you was never violent.”

“You had a projection of me?”

She looked down, like she so often did when embarrassed. “Yeah. He was sweet. Never hurt a fly. I think it’s because I could never see you being like that,” she jerked her head in the direction of the door, where the projections still roamed, ready to tear any perceived intruders to pieces.

“I’m…flattered? I think?”

She huffed out a tiny laugh, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder. “Robert?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

For a moment, he felt his face twitch with unspoken emotion, grateful that it was so dark that she probably couldn’t see it. “Yeah. Yeah. Of course. Why?”

“You’ve just been quiet the past couple of days is all.”

“Work wears me out,” it wasn’t a total lie, even though that wasn’t what had been weighing on his mind recently.

“Do you…ever think about leaving?”

“Sometimes,” he sighed. “But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, struck with the realization that he didn’t have a concrete answer for her.

“I-I don’t know. I guess, I can’t just leave Dad like that. Or, or, all the people who depend on me. It’s–I don’t–” he huffed in quiet frustration.

“It’s all you’ve ever known,” Alice said wisely. He relaxed somewhat, grateful that she seemed to understand without him having to explain.

“Yeah.”

For a brief moment, he felt that maybe, just maybe he should tell her. Get it all out. Put the ball in her court. All it would take was three little words and it would be done. Robert wasn’t sure where the sudden burst of courage had even come from.

“Alice–”

He woke with a jerk, scrambling against the material of the comforter beneath him, almost upsetting the PASIV laid out between his and Alice’s bodies. Sitting up, he moved to get off the bed before realizing that he was still attached to the IV in his arm, gingerly pulling it out before getting off the bed. Staggering to the windows, he pulled back the curtains, squinting into the sunlight that greeted him.

“Robert?” Alice’s voice sounded from where she was still on the bed, but it sounded muffled, almost like he was under water. He pinched at the bridge of his nose. His mind was still spinning, attempting to reconcile the sudden change in scenery surrounding him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, dropping his hand to let it rest against the windowsill. When he finally looked over his shoulder, Alice was sitting on the end of the bed, eyes huge with worry. “I’m alright.”

“Disoriented?” her gaze softened at his nod. “It gets easier, with time. And practice.”

Raking a hand through his hair, he ran his fingers anxiously over his watch, allowing the feeling of the familiar, intricate details to soothe him.

“The good news is that I think it’s working. It’s slow. And tedious, but I think your subconscious is learning.”

“Yeah. Good,” glancing back out the window, something occurred to him that he hadn’t really considered before. “Does that mean that there will be a point in time when we can’t share dreams anymore?”

Alice hesitated, head tilting as she considered. “I don’t know if it’s possible to customize the projection’s reactions to specific people, but,” when she was thinking hard, sometimes she rubbed her lips together, like she was doing now. “It shouldn’t be a problem so long as you’re the dreamer and I’m the subject. Dreamers don’t usually populate the area with their projections. I’ll have to teach you the layouts, for the dreams. But that isn’t usually too hard. Or if you were a sleeper and not the subject. Sleepers can bring in projections, but it’s very rare and usually they can only summon one or two at a time.”

“Okay. Good.”

She continued to examine him. “Are you starting to feel better?”

He nodded. Relief passed across her face. She was always so sweet. So worried about him.

It was hard not to feel like he didn’t deserve her.

“I think…I’m going to go take a shower,” he said. Alice nodded, beginning to clean up and put away the PASIV.

“Okay.”

He stumbled into the bathroom, closing the door and resting his palms flat against the counter, head bowed. Looking up, he was met with the startling image of a gaunt, exhausted man. Dark circles bloomed beneath his eyes, lips pressed in a miserable looking frown. For a reason unknown to him, tears began to swell in his eyes until they toppled down his cheeks. His eyes, a twin to his mother’s, looked back at him sorrowfully.

Everything was such a fucking tangled mess. His father, Uncle Peter, the company. Often he barely felt like he was keeping his head above water, the insurmountable pressures and expectations of everyone around him leaving him nearly paralyzed with uncertainty and fear. Nothing he could do these days seemed right. No matter what decisions he made. His father would always find something to yell at him for, while Uncle Peter looked at him with a disappointed, helpless expression.

And not once did he ever get to consider what it actually was that he wanted. It was always about the good of the company. Or what would make his father the least furious.

Alice was the only anchor point he had left. The thing he was most sure of in the world. Robert was positive that there were days when she was the only thing keeping him from being swept out into the sea of his own hopelessness.

Christ, he’d almost told her.

That would have been disastrous. As if she could ever feel the same way. He knew how telling her would go. It would be awkward. And painful. Perhaps the most painful thing to happen to him since his mother’s death. Just the idea of Alice’s rejection of him was enough to have a fresh batch of tears rolling down his cheeks, body shuddering in violent terror. It would destroy them. She would leave. Again. And he would be left alone to be torn apart by Fischer Morrow until there was nothing left of him.

Pulling away shakily from the counter, he turned to the shower, twisting the nozzle and feeling the water with his fingers until he determined it warm enough. It took a few tries to undo the buttons of his shirt, his hands still trembling slightly. Tossing his clothes into a far corner of the bathroom, he stepped into the scalding stream, allowing the water to wash away the remnants of tears on his face.

Memories of being pressed together in the closet flashed behind his eyelids whenever he closed them. Shaking his head, he rested his hands against the slick tile of the shower wall and tried to think about anything else. Memos. Meetings. The warmth of the water against his back. Alice. Alice, Alice, Alice.

His mind, ever the traitor, began to feed him more…creative images on how things could have gone down in the closet. Images that involved Alice’s legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers in his hair, pulling, guiding him to kiss her while he thrusted. Her back rocked rhythmically against the door. She was tiny enough that he could pick her up, easy.

With a surrendering whine, he finally let his hand fall to wrap around his cock, throbbing wantonly between his legs. Closing his eyes, Robert let his head fall forward, one hand still flat against the shower wall while the other began to stroke himself, every once in a while stopping to caress his balls.

In his mind he kissed her. Slow and soft first, then with a bit more urgency, backing her up against the door. Hands cradling her face, then running down her sides. Maybe he would take a moment to squeeze her clothed breasts, or slip his hand inside her shirt and bra to stroke his fingers along a hardened nipple. Pinch it lightly until she moaned into his mouth. Then his hands would be on her hips, lifting her up, up, until she was settled perfectly against him. They would fit together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces. He knew that they would.

Running his mouth along her neck, kissing every spot there until he found which one made her gasp and buck her hips unconsciously against his. Perhaps he’d find a ticklish spot; get her to throw her head back and giggle while he teased her.

Their pants would come off quick, and he’d get on his knees for her, thighs thrown over his shoulders, and eat her out until she screamed and pulled on his hair. Just the thought of it was enough for Robert to feel a tightening in his balls, a quiet moan rumbling from his lips as he picked up the pace of his pumps, cock twitching in his hand.

When he finally slid inside of her, the sound she’d make would be the best thing he’d ever heard. Holding her as close as possible, he’d start thrusting into her nice and slow. Careful. So he wouldn’t hurt her. He imagined the way she would say his name. Maybe she would call him Robbie.

Mouth falling open, he felt the flutter in his balls that indicated his orgasm was close.

She would be wet and tight, and far, far better than his hand. The way she would attempt to draw him in even closer, legs cinching tight around his waist while her hands held onto his shoulders. He’d bring a hand down, to between her legs, find the right angle and rhythm to rub her clit that would make her walls flutter around his cock. She would come first, he would make sure of it. Holding onto him tightly, moaning his name, trying to pull him even closer. As close as it was physically possible for them to be. And he would finally be able to whisper in her ear.

I love you.

I have loved you since we were children.

Robert barely managed to bite down on a moan as his cock twitched in his hand, balls tightening as he began to come in hard spurts. His body seemed to practically curl in on itself with his orgasm, shoulders shaking and breaths ragged. It was a good thing he’d braced his hand against the wall, or else he very likely would have toppled over with the force of it. His balls tightened again with another burst of thick seed before he finally slumped forward, spent. Watching numbly as the remainders of his release slowly circled down the shower drain.

Mind finally beginning to clear from arousal, he let out a quiet whimper of shame. What a terrible friend he was. To fantasize about her when she would never reciprocate.

Gulping down his heartbreak at the thought, he straightened, reaching dazedly for the soap.

He needed to get his head on straight, he decided resolutely. Needed to get this ridiculous pining and longing under control before it consumed him. Otherwise, someday, he was going to slip up. She was going to find out. And then she’d be gone for good.

It was the only way he would be able to keep her in his life.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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tarydarrington · 3 years

Text

"Alright, everyone," Veth says with authority, and everyone else quiets down. "Tomorrow is the big day."

Caleb sighs and ducks behind his drink. There is a speech coming. This is exactly the sort of ceremony he had hoped to avoid by having this get-together at his home rather than the bar Veth had suggested. It's only five of them, tonight; Beauregard and Yasha are always in town, and Veth had insisted on coming. And Essek, of course. He's not sure when the elf's presence at his side became an of course, but in a careful way, he likes it.

“As the person in this world who cares the most about Caleb--”

Essek silently quirks an eyebrow at that, and it doesn’t get past Veth.

“Alright, come on, just because you got him into bed and I didn’t doesn’t mean--”

Caleb clears his throat loudly, and Veth’s smile snaps back into place.

“As Caleb’s oldest, dearest, truest friend,” she says, and Essek manages to look dignified even while rolling his eyes, “it is my humble duty to tell you all how amazing he is on this momentous occasion.”

“You know, I am starting a new job, not getting married,” Caleb murmurs in her direction.

“And we’re all very proud of you!” Veth replies.

Caleb takes a long drink as the others chime in with agreement. Yasha shoots him a sympathetic look, and he returns a tight smile.

“Come on, man,” Beau says from where she leans against the table, “aren’t you excited, at all?”

He takes a long breath. Excited is a word for it. Ready to vomit at a moment’s notice is perhaps more accurate. The Soltryce Academy is tricky. He’s been back there a few times in recent weeks, for interviews and preparation, and each time, it’s felt like walking through a dream of a place the mind could not quite capture properly.

For whatever purpose, Trent has always wanted Caleb - Bren - to follow in his footsteps. Those footsteps feel a touch too literal in those hallways.

“Caleb?” Beau’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “You still with us?”

He shakes his head. "Ja. Entschuldigung. There is a lot to think about."

Veth lowers her glass, frowning. "Nobody threatened you, did they? Because I'll have words with them."

"No, nothing like that." Not lately, anyway. He sets his own drink down on the table. "Just a bit worried, perhaps."

"Worried about what?" Beau asks flatly.

Caleb lets out a long breath, looking down at the floor. Where to begin? He’s worried that everything will go wrong. Worried that he’ll turn up with his clothes on backwards, or spill coffee down the front of his shirt, or trip over his words before the lesson even starts. Worried, most of all, about what comes after.

“I hope that I will not…” He searches for the right words. “I hope that I will be able to serve my students well enough,” he settles on. “The examples I have had were, ah….” Trent Ikithon is not one he wishes to emulate.

Essek frowns. “Carve your own path,” he says. “Someone as brilliant as you are needs no one to emulate.”

“Ja, well, that is fine for throwing together a spell or two, but I imagine the students will need a little more structure.” These are young minds. Any mistakes he makes will stick with them. He, of all people, knows just how much.

“Maybe you could ask them what they want from you,” Yasha pipes up. “You know, make sure you’re doing alright.”

Caleb lets out a long sigh. “Ja, maybe. That is a good idea.” Of course, it also requires that the students in question trust him enough to give him a straight answer.

They sit in relative silence for a moment, working away at their drinks. He hopes Veth doesn’t resent him for stepping on the atmosphere.

“Seriously, man, you’re gonna be great.” Beau knocks back the rest of her drink. “You’re already the best professor I’ve ever known.”

“I do not think the owl counts as a point of comparison,” Caleb deadpans. “Regardless, I will settle for not making a fool of myself for a first impression. That will be difficult enough.”

Beau shrugs, and reaches over to refill her glass. There’s a devious look in her eye that makes him nervous. "So why don't you practice?" she asks.

Caleb looks at her warily. "Practice?"

"Yeah, man." She gestures at the others. "Here's your class. Teach us something."

Before he can object, she’s already begun to pull an armchair toward the coffee table in the center of the room. Soon enough, three more seats have joined it, all on the same side. She throws her arms wide with a challenging grin.

“First day,” she says. “Don’t be late.” With that, she flops down onto the rightmost chair.

Transfixed in bemusement, Caleb watches as Yasha and Veth rush to occupy the next two seats in the makeshift classroom. The Expositor commands a room, it seems.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Essek murmurs as he brushes past as well. “I am willing to be the, ah... wet blanket, if need be.”

Caleb sighs, briefly twining their fingers together and squeezing once before letting him go. “Not comfortable, no, but it’s not a bad idea.”

Someone wolf whistles from the peanut gallery, and Caleb turns a fond glare on them all. All three of them are, of course, the picture of innocence. He shakes his head as Essek settles down primly in the last remaining chair. It’s not exactly the picture of an academic setting, with their glasses of half-finished booze still on the table in front of them and the lot of them draped over armchairs and ottomans.

“Alright,” says Beau, who has not even bothered to put her drink down. She makes a trilling sound that he thinks is probably meant to emulate a school bell. “Hit us.”

"We will be brutally honest," Veth promises. "Which means we will tell you honestly how perfect you are."

"Or if there's anything you could do better," Yasha adds.

Caleb stares back at them. It’s nothing he hasn’t gone over in his own head a hundred times. Even once or twice, to a captive audience of cats. It’s a short class. It will be over before he knows it.

The others look up at him expectantly. Watching him. Waiting. Caleb clears his throat.

"I, ah... feel a bit silly,” he admits.

Without a word, Essek waves a hand, and the familiar faces before him shift to those of strangers.

It’s almost embarrassing how much it helps. Caleb takes a deep breath and lets it out, running through the lesson plan in his head.

"Guten Morgen, class, I am, ah… Professor Widogast." It's the first time he's said that particular pair of words out loud.

"Whoo!" the student who is not Veth shouts.

"Yeah!" the student who is not Beau chimes in.

Caleb gives them a look and straightens his coat. "This is Introductory Transmutation, in room 142, so if you are all in the correct place--"

"Professor?" The student who is not Yasha raises her hand.

"Ah, ja, Miss…"

"Lionett."

Not-Beau slaps a hand over her own mouth and mutters, “Holy shit,” into it.

“Was that too much?” not-Yasha whispers.

“Babe, it was so hot,” not-Beau hisses back.

Caleb clears his throat. "Miss Lionett, do you have a question?"

Not-Yasha seems to suddenly remember her role, and she folds her hands in her lap. "No," she says, "I have to use the bathroom."

Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose as not-Beau bites back a giggle. “Ja, okay, go.”

“Don’t let her go!” not-Veth interjects. “She knew it was almost time for class; she should have gone earlier.”

“Dude, if she has to pee then she has to pee,” not-Beau protests.

Pointedly, not-Essek raises his hand.

Caleb lets himself sigh with relief. “Ja, Master…?”

“Gross, Professor, we don’t need to know about your weird sex dynamics,” not-Beau says.

Not-Essek’s face blooms red, and Caleb presses a hand to his face to hide the same. “You know very well, Beauregard, that it is an honorific.”

Not-Beau shrugs, looking very pleased with herself as she takes another sip of her drink. Not-Essek glares very polite daggers at her before clearing his throat.

“Thelyss,” he answers.

Beau cups both hands around her mouth and boos.

“No, it’s better that he’s honest,” Veth says. “We already know he’s a terrible actor.”

“Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says, raising his voice above the heckling. “Do you have a question?”

Essek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in a gesture that’s much too endearing. “I wondered what you will be teaching us today, Professor Widogast.”

Caleb tries not to dwell on the way the title hits differently on Essek’s voice, instead straightening up and waving one hand behind him. An illusory chalkboard appears in the air behind him to polite applause from Veth and Yasha. Back on track.

“Well, this is your first day,” he says. “So I know that - Beauregard, please remove your feet from the table - I know that most of your other teachers will be spending time going over the material that you will be covering this semester, but, ah…” What is he meant to be doing with his hands? They feel limp if they’re at his sides, but too formal behind his back and too awkward in front of him. Perhaps he should have a lectern? Somewhere to rest them, or shuffle with papers?

His gaze drifts back to his “students,” who all blink back at him expectantly. Essek inclines his head as though to prompt him on. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, hoping it will do for now.

“Right,” he continues. “Ja, so I thought we would take a look at something more practical to start. We will leave the reading for tomorrow; you have enough of that today.”

He waves his hands again, and behind him, a set of runes and diagrams appears on the chalkboard. Above it is written the word Prestidigitation.

“So, ah, partner up,” he orders. “Introduce yourselves. If there is someone on their own, a group of three is perfectly acceptable.”

“I call Miss Lionett,” Beau shouts, grabbing Yasha’s hand.

“Can I go to the bathroom, first?” Yasha asks.

Caleb gives her an incredulous look.

“I really do need to go,” she says.

He gestures towards the hallway, and she shuffles off. In the meantime, Veth and Essek scoot their chairs closer together. Caleb’s gaze lingers questioningly on Beau, who shakes her head.

“She’s not learning anything tonight, man. Go ahead.”

“Ja, okay,” he says distantly.

It feels silly, explaining the spell to this motley crew. Beau has leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes glassy, clearly not paying an ounce of attention. Essek has produced a piece of paper upon which Veth occasionally scribbles, though the way he periodically nods approval at Caleb’s points betrays his own prior knowledge of the subject. After a few minutes, Yasha returns and attempts to take down notes of her own.

“Is everyone following along?” he asks after a while, knowing it’s a futile question.

“Yep,” Beau lies.

“Hmm.” Yasha hums.

“Perfectly,” Essek says.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Veth confirms with a wink.

He continues, running them through the various applications one by one. Beau gives him an occasional “uh huh” that he believes not one bit. At one point, he catches Essek take a passing glance at Veth’s paper, widen his eyes, and lean forward to murmur something to her. He isn’t sure he wants to know what that’s about.

“Let’s keep focused, please, everyone,” he reminds them.

Essek waves a hand to signal him to continue. Nothing too scandalous, then. He goes through the final few points, then comes to stop in front of the chalkboard, hands awkwardly clasped again.

“Okay, that is it,” he says. “You have as much time as you require to finish the spell, and when you are finished, I would like one person from each group to demonstrate.”

He gives the others a questioning look. It’s one of the points he’s most worried about. A way to take pressure off some of the slower students could just as easily be a way to unintentionally foster competition and resentment. But none of them objects, so he gives them another nod.

“I suppose we should skip the demonstration portion,” he mumbles.

“I can do it,” Yasha chirps. Without warning, she swings the massive greatsword from her back and sinks the tip into the table, making the others jump. “I made a small mark.”

Caleb covers his eyes with one hand. “Ja, will it go away in one hour?”

Yasha silently places her drink down over the indentation. Caleb sighs. It isn’t as though he has very many guests, anyway.

“I can probably swing producing an odor, for you,” Beau offers. “But I figure you probably don’t want that.”

He ignores her, and instead gives Essek a tight smile.

“Well, would my second group care to demonstrate?”

Beau jerks a thumb in Essek’s direction and fake-coughs to Yasha, “Teacher’s pet.”

Essek ignores her and sits back, fingers working in those little patterns he draws when something has piqued his curiosity. “I believe so,” he says, and nods to Veth.

Caleb raises his eyebrows as all eyes turn to Veth. Though Essek had the courtesy to leave her a halfling, her features and coloring are entirely different - but that wide smile as she stands and rubs both hands together would give her away, no matter the face it was set in. And as Beau swears under her breath, Yasha and Caleb look on wide-eyed, and Essek watches with a smirk, she pulls her hands apart to let loose a shower of sparks.

“You… learned the spell,” Caleb says numbly. He hadn’t imagined any of them were actually paying attention.

“It was an excellent lesson!” Veth replies.

As she takes her seat again, Beau and Yasha give her a smattering of stunned applause. Essek clears his throat pointedly.

“And I guess, maybe, Essek gave me one pointer,” Veth amends with an eye-roll.

“Hey, so your partner system worked,” Yasha points out.

It had. The lesson had worked, the procedure had worked - his teaching had worked. There’s still a little voice in his head reminding him that Veth is brilliant, and an adult, and perfectly capable of learning things like this without even so much as his help - but he can’t deny that it’s his guidance that taught her this particular spell. ‘An excellent lesson,’ Veth had said. In this moment, he’s inclined to believe it might be half true. Caleb realizes very suddenly that he’s beaming.

With a snap of his fingers, Essek dispels the disguises. The soft smile on his face - his real face, and Caleb always misses it dearly when it’s hidden - says he hasn’t failed to notice Caleb’s relief.

“Danke, all of you,” he says sheepishly, waving a hand to vanish the chalkboard.

“Thank you!” Veth says. “For the shiny new spell and for the masterclass in professoring.”

“You were really good,” Yasha agrees. “I’m, uh... I’m sorry about the table.”

He dips his head to hide the way his face is flushing. They exaggerate, the lot of them. But there is something to be said for having friends who will say such things. “Ja, well,” he says, “I am not convinced it will translate to an actual class, but I will hope.”

Beau takes another swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. “Dude, we were the worst and you still managed to teach somebody something,” she says. “Those kids have nothing on us. You got this.”

He offers her a smile, retrieving his glass from the table as Yasha, Veth, and Essek do the same. He hopes it’s true. He hopes that, separate entirely from his ability to teach them the how of magic, he will be able to keep them safe. That he will be able to keep from passing on any damage he received in his own time in those halls.

He catches Essek’s eye, and the knowing look there puts some of the anxious buzzing to rest. He will be better. He will struggle, most likely. He will stumble, inevitably. But he will give better than he got. He’s been practicing that part for years.

“To Professor Widogast!” Veth shouts, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Professor Widogast,” the others echo, and Caleb smiles.

“To my very good friends,” he replies.

“To the hottest professor the Soltryce Academy has ever seen,” Veth shouts in response, and Caleb nearly chokes on his drink when Essek casually clinks his glass against hers with a nod.

They drink together. Caleb thinks, just a little bit, he might be excited.

thanks @peregrintook for reading this over and telling me it wasn't the worst thing i had ever written (in much more generous words than that), and @saturdaysky for catching me red-handed last time i deleted it and being so kind about it 💜

#okay here's the strategy. i posted a ficlet i'm happy with last week and i finished another one i'm happy with yesterday #so if i sandwich this in between the two surely i will not believe i am entirely worthless as a writer because of it #...probably #queueing it to post when i'm not home to physically wrench my hand away from the delete post button #shadowgast #background beauyasha #caleb widogast #mine #mine:fic #caleb #essek #veth #beau #yasha

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mischievoussub · 2 years

Text

Mood: giving tummy kisses and leaving hickeys on your thighs

#if we’re honest I’ll probably leave a bite or two as well #chomp chomp #wanna nom #everyone is all about the shoulders and hands #but I want it all

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can i request a yandere bully! Bakugou, locking a darling in the locker? I may leave You there for a while, and comfort you when the reader is begging you to

Continuation of this one here! Thanks for requesting ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

You couldn’t deny that the feeling wasn’t new.

Being roughly shoved into the barely big enough locker, you both felt scared and, at the same time, knew what to do. Braking your fall with your back, you kept your head forward so you wouldn’t hit it again, the mild concussion you had last time having been learn-experience enough. You had closed your eyes out of instinct when Bakugou gripped your shirt, but they snapped open immediately, trying to help you. However, Bakugou, too, had honed his skills, slamming the door close before you could squeeze your fingers in its way.

You’d rather have a broken finger than suffer this ordeal again if you were honest.

“No!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, knowing it was futile since no one else was around. Still, a part of you hoped that you might be able to intimidate Bakugou to think this over. “Shut. Up,” was his angry reply, his fist hammering into the locker door with every word. You had to fear he might actually break through the door by force, but it would have been in your favor.

It was so damn frustrating. You always thought you had done something to Bakugou, apologized over and over to him, so maybe he’d stop his bullying. But after finally talking to someone about it, you had decided that you wouldn’t engage with him anymore, and well... it just so happened you found comfort in the arms of the new student who finally treated you well as the only person ever since you came to UA. Everyone had always been too scared of Bakugou once he started targeting you. Of course, you couldn’t blame them either...

You and the new student started to hang out at any time, so you could avoid being targeted, and you spent some of the most wonderful hours by his side. The bullying did seem to stop now that a witness was always around, and you were so sure it was finally over, and you could move on. What could have caused Bakugou to explode the way he did? Not only did he punch your new boyfriend - and possibly broke his nose - no, he also carried you off without permission, bringing you to your most hated place on planet earth.

The annex had always been sparsely visited by students and teachers alike. There were just some clubrooms around, but since it was already late in the afternoon and a sunny day, most members were out in the fields or back in the dorms already. But strangely enough, even the weirdo Bakugou had a locker here; one big enough to fit a person in it.

“You can’t-- Ah, damnit, Bakugou! Stop locking me in this damn locker! It’s not funny anymore! What did I ever do to you?!”

Perhaps you were feeling especially feisty that day. You never had screamed at him like this, except if you were pleading for mercy. But ever since your boyfriend convinced you to see the guidance counselor, you had started to come out of your shell. Everything had been so good. Why was it coming back to bite you in the ass now?

Bakugou didn’t respond. No mocking comment, no snide remarks. Not even threats or insults belittling you, even as you started hammering your fists against the door. Out of experience, you knew someone would come. You were sure your boyfriend already contacted the teachers and people were searching for you, and latest when someone passed by, you could reach out and ask for help. But were you really going to fall back into old behavior and just sit it out? Wait for the time to pass and life to go on like before?

“... like you,” you suddenly heard from outside, a tiny voice compared to the usual boom and vibrato that Bakugou had. “What?!” you hissed, annoyed that once ‘his majesty’ decided to talk, he did it so you couldn’t understand. A long groan escaped him, furious and raging. “Just listen, you idiot! I said I like you!”

This time, the ‘What’ echoing in your head was left silent. Your mouth hung open as you stared at the blonde tuft of hair through the slits in the locker, Bakugou standing there with his back turned towards you. “... the fuck...” you finished your thought, accidentally saying it out loud and quickly realizing it, but it was already too late.

“What’s your problem,” Bakugou grumbled, annoyed, and part of you was glad not being able to see his face. You wouldn’t have known how to come to terms with him blushing or nervously fidgeting around like someone who just confessed usually would. “Just tell me what your fucking answer is.”

“No,” you replied instantly, without even a moment of hesitation. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to think it over before blurting it out but never. You could never imagine yourself at the side of your bully, the person who made your life a living hell. Someone who’d lock you in a locker to confess to you. What kind of joke was this?

“No?” he mumbled, suddenly turning around, you two staring eye to eye through the slits. “What do you mean ‘no’?!”

“Is this a joke?!” you barked back. “Tell me it’s a joke, ’cause there’s no way I could be together with you!”

Bakugou opened his mouth to say something, but instead, his eyes only grew redder, expression growing mad and furious, and you heard the unexpected crashing of fists against the metal, making you flinch back. The whole situation seemed so surreal, but it was very, very real. Standing up for yourself made you feel strong, but when uncomfortable silence befell you two, you started to overthink again.

“Bakugou...” you mumbled, placing your hand against the door. You were back to only seeing his hair, but you knew he was leaning forward, probably starring daggers into the ground. Maybe not everything was too late. Perhaps you could fix this, appeal to him one more time. “Just let me out, okay? You and I... that doesn’t work, but we can stop being children and scream at each other and just go our separate ways.”

You couldn’t think of a better way to talk to him. After all, you couldn’t understand what was going on inside of him at all. He had been bullying for god-knows-how-long, yet, he thought he liked you? Couldn’t he see the contradiction in his statement and actions? But this cruelty had to end at some point and now was as good as any. Going different ways would help him too, you were sure.

“Children?” he whispered, finally snapping upwards again to stare at you with a mocking expression. “Do you think my feelings aren’t real?”

Weirded out by his behavior, you only shook your head.

“I don’t think you know your position in this. There is no ‘no’ when I ask you if you like me.”

“Bakugou...”

“It’s that guy, isn’t it? He’s in the way, right? He’s been stealing you from me, taking up all your time that you should spend with me, isn’t he?”

“Bakugou, please, we’re never spending time together--”

“He’s making you say no because you’re guilty, am I right? I can take care of that, you know?”

“Wait!” you interrupted his speech, sudden panic rising inside of you. You were well aware of Bakugou’s strength, but attacking your boyfriend wouldn’t make any of you happy! “If you go, I’ll scream! They’ll find me, and I’ll tell them what you’re doing! That’s criminal! Aren’t you studying to be a hero?!”

Your appeals were met with a cocky grin, his eyes shining as if you just challenged him. “Who says I can’t be a hero and still beat the shit out of that bastard?”

“Everyone! Everyone will know what they did! I will tell them!”

“Try it,” he hissed before pushing away from the locker. You threw yourself against it, but the door must have jammed when he kept bashing into it. Slapping your palm and hammering your fists didn’t help as you had to watch him walk away after looking at you in this typical, belittling way he used, always looking down on you. “You can have some time to think about your answer while I’m taking care of some business. Remember what day it is?” Bakugou yelled back over his shoulder, and you could hear the smug grin on his lips.

“What day...? Friday?” Your eyes widened suddenly as you realized that there were no clubs on the weekend due to the new regulations for safety, and you began to panic and scream Bakugou’s name after him. If you’d just have to spend the night, that would be manageable, but with the strange mood he was in, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust him to come let you out anytime soon. A whole weekend inside the locker would kill you for sure, and tears rolled down your cheeks as his footsteps slowly faded.

What a monster.

How could you ever like him back?

What more would you have to endure because of him?

But truth be told, what else could you do but tell him you liked him? You just wanted to get out of the hell that was this locker. Save yourself from the embarrassment and torture.

"I like you! Bakugou, I like you!" you screamed.

But the footsteps didn't come running back.

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selfcarecap · 3 years

Text

Hey so idk if you’re taking requests but I was dreaming about our boy Pete again 🤧 and I was wondering if you could write a blurb about him being nervous about you seeing his dick for the first time pretty please if you want to 🤎

-this is a repost of an old blurb-

You pull off Peter’s shirt eagerly, leaving him only in his boxers.

Tugging at the waistband, you already feel the light fuzz on his skin and Peter laughs sheepishly, bringing a hand over yours to stop you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, still smiling.

“Nothing - I just...” he trails off, hovering over you to kiss you on the lips, but you push at his chest, “Hey, it’s okay. You can tell me. We don’t have to do this if you don’t wanna.” He knows this already, but with his hesitation you feel like he could use a reminder.

“No- no! It’s nothing just... we’ve been friends for so long and now that we’re more I don’t want to disappoint you. I’m so scared that you’ll realise you don’t like me like that.” He scratches his neck, not meeting your eyes, and lies down next to you.

Your heart breaks a little at the thought of going back to being just friends again.

You always try to show Peter how much you love and appreciate him, but if he needs more reassurance from you, you’ll be glad to make sure to give him even more of your love.

“Just look at you-,” he continues, “- you’re so gorgeous and you’re like the hottest person I’ve ever seen and-“

“Wait, wait- is this about looks? Do you not realise how fucking cute you are?” you smile, kissing his lips but his eyes stay open.

“Yeah but I... I don’t wanna be called cute- at least not in this situation...”

“Okay, well, you’re also very hot.”

“Now you’re just saying that cause I wanted you to.”

You’re lost for a second, so you decide to tell him something that you wanted to keep a secret, but it’ll definitely prove how hot you think Peter really is.

“If you want me to be honest... Do you remember the picture I took of you when we were at the pool?” He nods.

The picture is simply gorgeous. You took it after you and Peter had gotten out of the water and had something to eat at a swimming pool you went to during the summer.

His hair was still damp, his pecs glistening with a few droplets of water. He was sitting back, just soaking up some sun, his abs looking delicious even while he was relaxed.

You decided to snap a picture that moment - a photo which you like to look at a lot. It’s cute, yes, but it’s also helped you in moments when you were on your own, with less innocent thoughts.

“The other day I was looking at that picture while I was, you know, on my own- and”

“What do you mean on your own?”

“You know what I mean,” you mumble, cuddling into Peter’s side to hide your face.

“I don’t.”

You’re not looking at him, so you sincerely can’t tell if he’s too innocent or if he’s just teasing you.

You close your eyes and just say it.

“I was masturbating to your picture, Pete. There, I said it. And if that doesn’t show you how hot I think you are, I don’t know what will.”

You turn your head to see him. His mouth is wide open, his eyes surprised and his face redder than his Spider-Man suit.

“I- you- you did?” he asks, eyes flickering over to yours but then away again.

“Yes. One of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.”

He’s speechless for a bit, so you take the opportunity to kiss him again, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh that’s thrown over his lap.

Peter starts kissing you back a few seconds later and you figure his head is a little clearer again.

“Fuck,” he groans and lifts you onto his lap, your pussy rubbing up against his cock as you two make out.

You guess this means he’s sure now, and you undo the clasp of your bra, about to pull the straps down your arms when Peter blurts out, “What if you don’t like my dick?”

His eyes screw shut and you quickly put your bra back on, holding a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

It’s a real insecurity and you’d never want to make fun of him for that.

“Baby..” you start, his eyes still closed, “Look at me.”

He bites his lip and opens his eyes, expression softening when he sees your smile.

“I’m sure I’ll love your dick, baby. I love you and it’s a part of you, so why wouldn’t I?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! I mean I think? It’s average. But it’s just, I know I’ve gotten hard just thinking of, like, your collarbones, or your thighs or your lips and I have to warn you I’ll probably cum when I see you completely naked,” you giggle at that but he stays serious so you pull yourself together, “And I’ve heard that girls don’t really like the way dicks look and I’m just worried I can’t satisfy or impress you.”

You kiss his pouting lips, “I’m already impressed only by sitting on it,” you wiggle your hips against his hardness beneath you to demonstrate and his eyes flutter.

“I’m sure if I stay on your lap a few minutes longer you’ll feel how wet I am through both our clothes so maybe we should just get naked?“

Peter grins, pulling you closer to kiss you, fumbling with the clasp of your bra until you help him, sliding the straps down your arms and discarding it somewhere on the floor.

He‘s seen your tits before but he looks as if it’s his first time seeing them every time.

You decide to take the first step and raise your hips to pull off your underwear and now you‘re completely bare in front of him.

The look in his eyes is enough for you to shrug off any insecurities and you straddle him again, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, “Now you.“

After seeing you naked he‘s eager, switching positions so he‘s on his knees in front of you, you lying down and spread out for him.

Licking his lips, he pulls down his boxers a bit, revealing his hard cock.

Your mouth falls open and you close your legs. Peter immediately tucks himself into his boxers again, “W-what? See, I told you-“

“No- it’s just. How is that gonna fit?”

He looks clueless.

“You said average, Peter.”

“Wait- are you saying my dick is small or big?”

“I’m no expert but to me it definitely looks big,” you say.

His face reddens once again, you see his hand clamping over his boxers.

“I bet you’re gonna feel so good once I’ve gotten used to it,” you say.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, though,” he frowns.

“You won’t.”

He kisses you and you pull bis boxers off in the process, seeing how his cock stands tall and hard against his abs.

The horny part of you just wants to straddle him and sit on his cock, but the bit of logic your brain still has left tells you to go easy first.

“But maybe you can eat me out first so I‘m as wet as possible?” you give him your most charming smile, and he’s already got your legs on either side of his head.

“I’d like nothing more.”

#peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #this is 1.2k #peter parker #peter parker blurb #fem!reader #selfcarecap #sorry for the bad quality 😭 i obviously don’t have the ask cause this is a repost #quality of the pic/ask #i mean i don’t like how asks look on like desktop when they get longer like for blurbs so #i usually put the screenshot instead of the ask anyway but #idk sometimes the quality is fine and sometimes it isn’t #maybe it’ll look fine once i post it idk

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

✦ 👻 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 SEASON 2 👻 ✦

↪ ✧ SO SHY ✧

this chapter pairing; warlock!vernon x witch!reader

genre&warnings; witch/warlock!au, warlock!vernon, professor!vernon, witch!reader, dom!vernon, spanking, usage of aphrodisiacs, dirty talk, restraints, mentions of tentacles.

notes; It’s Friday! 🎊 🎉 Wow you guys! Thank you so much for your support on all the chapters thus far 🥺💕 It really means so much to me! 💕 I’m very excited going forward and there’s only about a week left of fics! 😭😭😮‍💨 Let’s get this bread 💪 I’m also going to try to answer some inbox msgs on Sunday as well! I know a bunch of you have been sending some in so I'm gonna try to answer those earlier in the day before the MMS2 fic goes up 🥳💕 For now, enjoy ch 4 and have a good rest of your day/night! I’ll see you tomorrow ghouly ghouls! 👻 🎃

word count; ~3000

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x

just came to say good night

you were shifting around like

it was too soon but right on time

i was just so shy, so shy

“I heard you’re failing Professor Chwe’s Incantations class… again.”

Jihoon shoots you a shit eating grin as you pout.

“It’s not my fault, he fucking sucks at explaining anything!” You retort back; cheeks warm as the two of you make your way towards the said professor’s class.

You excelled at every class you had at the academy - excelling at everything except Vernon’s Incantations class.

“Are you sure it’s not just because you won’t stop ogling the man?”

“Yes, I’m sure. He just explains everything so weird,” Mumbling, you pry the doors open as the two of you let yourselves in, “I already signed up for extra tutoring classes with Joshua though… He passed last semester with an A+ so I think I’ll be in good hands.”

Jihoon nods and walks to the row in the back with you - Vernon nowhere in sight just yet when the two of you settle down.

“Have you, at least, been practicing at home? By yourself?”

You bite the inside of your cheek - instantly embarrassed because while, yes, you had been - admittedly the incantations you were experimenting with weren't completely wholesome ones.

“I--yeah just… Just some really basic ones to get the, um, foundation going, y’know?”

“Well, at least you’re not completely in the shitter. I mean, that last pop quiz was… pretty bad. For you, I mean.” Jihoon grins as you grimace in return - about to respond when the double doors fly open.

“Good morning class! We’re going to go over with the results of the pop quiz before we start class today.” Vernon adjusts his glasses before setting his things down onto the rich mahogany desk at the front of the lecture hall. “I’m… Going to be honest. Some of these results were worse than I anticipated.”

He shoots you a glance as your lips settle into a firm line.

At least I saw that one coming.

There’s mumbling around the room as Vernon gently shushes everyone.

“I’m going to pass back the grades. I’ve left notes for everyone on them so be sure to read them over as I discuss the answers and go over the more common mistakes I was seeing on the quiz. Any questions before we start? No? Okay, let’s get started.”

You’re unable to focus the rest of Vernon’s class - thoughts too preoccupied by the cursive ‘Stay back after class is over. I’d like to speak to you.’ scrawled messily next to the big F that had you grimacing.

You knew you’d done badly but not that badly.

“Okay everyone! We’ll end class there for today. I know it’s All Hallow’s Eve but I want you all to behave tonight, alright? Don’t get carried away.”

Vernon nods firmly to everyone who leaves and you watch as Jihoon gets up from his seat next to you.

“Why are you still sitting? C’mon, I wanna get some food from the dining hall.”

“Um…”

Shaking your head, you slide your quiz paper into view as Jihoon reads it quickly; a small ‘yikes’ falling from his lips as he slings his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Um… I’ll get you something to eat and I’ll just meet you at the library. You’re probably gonna be in a lot of shit so… Good luck!”

He waves you off and scurries out of the room leaving you and Vernon alone as he reassess some paperwork on his desk.

You’re afraid to come any closer but the way he softly calls your name has your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Y-yes?”

“Please come here. And bring your things with you.”

He doesn’t sound too pleased as you sigh and grab your things from the tabletop; quietly making your way to the front of the lecture hall as you stop in front of Vernon’s large table.

“Professor Chwe, I’m r-really, really sorry. I swear I studied so much for this quiz!”

He leans back in his office chair - momentarily taking his glasses off to clean the lens as he nods. “This is your second time repeating this class with me and I’m not seeing much improvement. You excel at your other classes but what is it about mine that you’re having a hard time grasping?”

Your eyes dance across his face; taking in his long eyelashes and kissable lips.

Admittedly, you’d spent most of your lectures with him daydreaming about the way you wanted him to bend you over his desk and usually by the time you were studying alone, nothing had made any sense.

The only incantations you’d managed to somehow get right were the ones pertaining to sex and arousal - one too many experiments leaving you much needier and unsatisfied than you expected.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I--I mean I… I guess I’m having a hard time paying attention.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know.”

You shift awkwardly in front of him, fingertips playing with the hem of your pleated skirt.

“Are you sure?” He asks; the tone in his voice insinuating that he knew more than he led toy to believe.

“Yes.”

Nodding, he reaches for a drawer in his desk and takes out a small familiar velvet pouch that has you gasping as soon as you see it.

“I’m not too sure if you were aware, but the handbook when you started at this magic academy states that using your spells to create aphrodisiacs is strictly prohibited.”

You feel your mouth run dry as he fiddles with the pouch - an amused smile on his lips as he spills a few of the circular, candy looking orbs onto his table.

“And yet somehow… You made these perfectly? So I would like an explanation on why you made these and how you managed to craft them perfectly when you claim to be unable to pay attention in my incantations class. I won’t report you to the dean if the excuse is good enough.”

“How--how did you find that?” You grip the hem of your skirt out of nervousness and your mind goes a mile a minute the longer he sits and admires the tiny orbs.

“They must’ve fallen out of your bookbag after a lecture because I found them on the floor. And I knew it was yours because I used a spell to see whose magic it was that made these.”

“I—why are those spells there in the book then!?” You retort - embarrassment making you raise your voice unintentionally.

“The Book of Spells is old. We have no say in what we can remove or add to the book - we just give them to you all in good faith that you won’t use them in the ways you decided to.”

“Oh…”

“Oh is right.” Vernon gets up from his leather seat, simultaneously taking his glasses off as he steps right in front of you.

“Well, should we see if they work?”

“What?” Your eyes widen at the grin on his face - cheeks warm as he leans in close to you.

“Do you forget I’m your professor? My magic is more advanced than the rest of you and I can use my magic to find out things that… Many of you can’t. Quite literally, I have a spell for everything. And considering you don’t seem to be paying attention in class, you wouldn’t have known that.”

“S-such as…?”

The nervousness mixes in with the adrenaline coursing through your veins with each step that he takes towards you.

“Such as, the Books of Spells that each of you take home with you? Let’s just say I have a means of seeing which spells in those books are being used and by whom.”

“I-isn’t that an invasion of p-privacy?”

“Mm, you’d think so but the books are the academy’s property. You all return them at the end of the week for safe-keeping and well… Let’s just say I know how you’ve been using yours. Quite the interesting last few weeks.”

You groan mentally.

That meant he knew that you tried a lust spell on him in particular - going so far as to use his name in the spell.

“I--sorry…”

“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how about you tell me the real reason why you can’t pay attention in class. I believe we’re on the same page.”

“P-professor… I’m r-really sorry, I--I don’t know what I was thinking. I swear I’ll do better! And--and I’ll stop with, um, the--the other stuff too...”

You bow your head at him, brows furrowed when you hear the clinking of the small orbs in his hand when he tosses and plays with them.

“I heard through the vine that you’re taking tutoring classes with Joshua. Is that true?”

“Y-yes…”

He brings a singular orb to his lips as you gasp - watching as he pushes the candy-like aphrodisiac into his mouth.

“How about I tutor you instead? We can start right now by testing how well you’ve made these.”

The second that you let Vernon place the candy on your lips is the second you seal your fate - shy eyes peering into his own that are blooming with lust by the time you accept the candy into your mouth.

“You made these quite strong, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I--”

The words die on your tongue as soon as you taste the sweetness of the aphrodisiac - the sweet apple flavour making your mouth water as Vernon grins watching your expression.

“You’d actually excel at incantations if you just paid attention during my lectures.”

“S--sorry…” Mumbling shyly, you let the strong magic run its course as you stumble slightly but Vernon is quick to grab a hold of your arm as he brings you towards his large desk.

“I want you to be less shy and pay more attention, okay, sweetheart?” He flips you around so that you’re facing the lecture hall with him standing behind you. “I want you to pass my class and maybe I can teach you some other things.”

Vernon waves his hand over his desk - using his magic to make all of his paperwork disappear in an instant.

“Wouldn’t want you to get them dirty~” He teases.

“P-professor…”

“Call me Vernon for now.” He leans in, warm chest against your back as you shiver.

“Or did it get you off calling me professor when you were touching yourself thinking about me?”

You feel your heart do a backflip when you hear him chuckle - now too nervous to move since you’d been called out.

He flips up your skirt and admires your ass before hooking a finger around the waistband of your panties that were already translucent with how wet you’d gotten.

“I was just teasing about that part but the way you’re not responding tells me that I must’ve said something right. S’okay, you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“O--okay…” You’re about to ask what he’s doing when he suddenly tugs on your panties hard - the fabric getting caught between your soaking folds as you mewl.

“O-oh, p--professor!”

“We won’t need these anymore, right?” The fabric rubs against your overly sensitive clit as you whimper and you find yourself drooling onto his table; squirming when he lets go and drags it down your legs as the fabric pools around your ankles instead.

“Tell me, sweetheart, what kind of toys do you put in this pretty ‘lil cunt when you’re playing with yourself?”

You feel his fingers glide through your folds - poking and prodding at your clit before you feel them circling your entrance.

“I--my--my fingers but I…” Embarrassment laces your voice as you bite your lip. “I m-messed up once and…”

Vernon sinks his index and middle finger into your soaking wet pussy and he groans when he feels your walls sucking his digits in deeper.

“And what?”

With his free hand, he undoes the button and zipper of his slacks, shimmying down his boxer briefs along with them as he wraps a hand around his leaking cock.

“I want to know what you did, sweetheart.”

Gulping, you try to work your hips back, trying to ride his fingers as he scissors and curls the digits knuckle deep.

“I--I accidentally… s-summoned, a-ah, a--I don’t--don’t know what it w-was…” Muttering, your eyes flutter shut when you feel the tips of his fingers grazing against your sweet spot.

You really hadn’t known what you summoned that night and you don’t know where the spell had gone wrong either.

All you really knew was that the tentacles had given you what you craved; one deep inside your pussy while another one had fucked your ass and another one had fucked your throat as you reached an orgasm several times.

You’d imagined them to be Vernon’s cock, all the while.

“I heard a rumour there was an odd aura emanating from the dorms… Tsk, guess I finally know what it was.”

“Mmnh, s-sorry, p-professor…”

He slides his fingers from inside of you after a few more skillful flicks of his wrist and he’s quick to position the head of his cock at your entrance as you moan out his name instead this time.

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Those aphrodisiacs you made are really taking their toll. I don’t know how long I’m gonna last…” He groans as he slowly starts to sink his cock into you - meeting no resistance as your wetness drips down your inner thighs.

“P-please… fuck me, ngh, h-hard and--and fast… I--” You remember the tentacles slamming into you as your body rocked against the bedsheets; craving the same pleasure they’d been able to give you. “I wanna, a-ah, cum so bad, V--Vernon…”

Vernon grits his teeth as he bottoms out inside of your pussy - letting you adjust to his size before he’s starting an erratic pace.

“I do too, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re so wet for me. Dripping all over too…” He undoes the tie around his neck at the same time; sliding the silk from around his neck before he reaches for your arms.

“I do have to punish you a little bit though. You summoned monsters and created illicit drugs at the dorms. You understand, right?”

“Ngh, y-yes, professor…”

He ties your wrists behind your back tightly before he raises a hand to your ass - quickly bringing his palm down onto your skin as you cry out.

“I won’t make you count them but I expect you to perform better during my lectures, understood?”

Your skin stings when he brings his hand down five more times in rapid succession.

“Y-yes, V--Vernon! I mean, professor!”

The stinging sensation quickly bleeds into pleasure and he doesn’t stop spanking your ass as he starts to double his pace.

“Tell me, did you imagine this? Me fucking your soaking wet cunt over my desk like this?” Vernon gives you a break as he soothes your skin. “I’ll be honest, sweetheart, I was intrigued when I saw my name being used in such a spell.”

“I--ngh, i-imagined it a-all the time…” You admit, “S-sometimes I i-imagine you, mmnh, j-just pulling me into a-an empty room and--and pushing my panties t-to the side just to f-fuck me…”

“Oh? Such a naughty student.”

His words go straight to your core and the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot has broken moans spilling off of your lips as you beg him to go faster.

“Please! Please, I’m s-so close to c-cumming!”

Tears blur your vision as the pleasure becomes unbearable - unable to stop yourself when your orgasm hits you hard out of nowhere.

And Vernon’s thrusts become even more erratic as he throws his head back and rides the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock; his hands going for your bound wrists as he uses it for leverage.

“Do you want me to cum inside you or do you want me to cum elsewhere?”

The memory of the tentacles filling up all your holes makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as you all but cry for Vernon to cum inside of you.

“P-please... I-inside... I want you, ngh, t-to cum inside m-me... Want to--to feel it dripping d-down, ah, my t-thighs when you g-give me everything...”

Growling, he holds you steady as he chases his own orgasm - hips rocking into your ass as soft curses and growls spill from his lips.

“Okay, then be a good girl and take all of it.”

It takes a few more erratic thrusts before his cock is throbbing and unloading all of his hot cum inside your pussy - both of you moaning at the warm pleasure that washes over your bodies.

Your mouth opens in a ‘o’ shape as you feel the fullness of his cock and cum inside you - the reality far better than anything you’d ever imagined.

Mentally wondering if you’d ever be able to come back from this normally now that’s you’d fucked your incantations professor and felt him in real life.

Vernon starts to slow his movements after a few more minutes - only mildly satisfied and still feeling high strung from the aphrodisiacs still coursing through this body.

“Professor… how--how am I supposed to go to s-study after this… I, ah, still—still have l-lectures…” You whisper tiredly - body still buzzing in need as he holds you firm against his table.

Vernon smirks at your back; mentally thinking of all the spells he knew to, perhaps, conjure up a clone of you that would at least get through your classes for the rest of the day while he made you cum a few more times.

“Didn’t I tell you? I have a spell for everything.”

#vernon smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #vernon scenarios #vernon imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #vernon #vernon fic

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felswritingfire · 3 years

Text

(Hades) Gods x Shade! Reader

No matter how much you try, mortality will always catch up to those who are not of gods. Even the most blinded of them learn this eventually. You take your death with grace, choosing to go and explore this new world as soon as Lord Hades permits you to go, impressed by how little you complain and demand. You are one of the brighter parts of his day (night?).

You drift along, catching certain snippets of other Shade’s conversations as you wander aimlessly. You notice a crack in the wall; deciding to muster up your courage, you slip through it to find yourself in the glowing green torches of Tartarus. With what little you have, you hold it close to your translucent body and push forward.

You’re quick to notice the large glowing ball with an oddly familiar symbol floating in the middle of it. You take your time circling it, feeling compelled to touch it. When you do, a beam of light comes slicing through the dreary air to reveal a mighty god who stares down at you at your shocked form...

Zues

Cause of Death: Lightning Strike

Zues is confused when he sees you. He’s even more confused when you start screaming at him, waving your hands about and threatening to fight him yourself.

“You fucker! You killed me!”

He raises a brow. “I think I’d remember if I killed you.” You flipped up your middle finger at him and his eyebrows drew into an angry v. “How rude! I am the God of Gods-”

“I don’t care!”

Zagreus had to high tail it to you before Zues tried to smite you (possibly a second time).

Suffice to say you hoped you’d never bump into that boon again. And you didn’t. No, the God of Gods and Lightning himself decided that he’d have to make a house call himself (Hades was not pleased when a bolt of lightning came crashing down and left a scorched black ring in the carpet).

He picks you out quickly and you try to zoom out of the lobby until he catches you by the back of your robe and then you’re swinging and yelling profanities at him. He’s kinda amused now instead of angry- you’re just so weak and tiny compared to him. It’s hysterical- ow! Did you just bite him?

After you and Zues finish your little “spitting match”- Hades kicks Zeus out and you're forced to hang out in Tartarus for a bit (“but I’m just a simple fisherfolk! I can’t fight anything!” You cry, Hades does not spare you a look as you're dragged out by Meg).

You think maybe that’s the end until you’re approached by a… a squirrel? You almost punt it when his voice spills out as he shoots into a long prattle about how much of a jerk Hades was and how he couldn’t handle someone as grandiose as him appearing before him. Threatened him as a god or something- you were busy trying to figure out how you were going to kill this guy and make sure he stayed dead.

Turns out, after the two of you chattered (argued) a bit about whether or not he actually killed you, Zeus had some neat stories about the gods.

While you were interested in his children’s and brothers’ and sisters’ stories, he was interested in your stories of the mundane. A simple fisherfolk? That was a word? You just fished and traded? Amazing! Tell him more!

After this particular interaction between the two of you, Zeus really ended liking you. Maybe a little too much, but, aw well, it wasn’t everyday a mortal soul had the balls to argue with him for something he doesn’t remember doing (he probably did. Probably. Most likely). He swore that he’d come and see you everyday as he sat on your shoulder as a squirrel, going on and on about how you should feel blessed to be praised by one such as he. You were about to throw him until a giant hand came out and grabbed him (seemed you drifted too close to Lord Hades’ desk), the hulking god flinging him out of a portal.

He continues to pop up and bother you and, to be honest, he’s kinda growing on you. Also, I’m gonna be frank and lay it out that, if he likes you enough, he’s probs gonna want to smash, especially if you lean more towards the feminine side (he’s fucking AWFUL). It’s up to you if you wanna indulge that or not, I don’t recommend it, but you can if you really want to.

We’re going with the option you don’t smash- he’ll be salty at you for a whole ass day before he comes back the one after that as a rat (Hades kept finding out his forms that he used to sneak in so it was an ever constant menagerie of appearances to keep up the disguise) and is like: “I thought you would miss me too much so I came back before you could even complain.”

Zag likes to watch the two of you interact because he finds it absolutely fascinating. It’s like watching… He doesn’t know what it’s like but he’s having a blast as you roast his uncle to bits. It really helps him out when he’s feeling a bit down after failing getting out one too many times.

When you first get Zeus an Ambrosia, he thinks it’s poison and then he gets all prideful because of course you would give him an offering, he was the strongest of all the gods! Him and him alone!

“Silly, mortal, you cannot poison me! I am a god.”

You squint your eyes at him before you huff and pull the bottle closer to you. “Fine, whatever, I’ll just give it to Zagreus- or better yet, Hades if you don’t want it.”

“No! No! I want it! Give it to me! It’s mine!”

During this time, he’s actually experiencing some purer emotions in life- he’s genuinely giddy that you got him the Ambrosia and asks how you got it. You hold up a makeshift fishing rod and grin at him, telling him you snatched it from some nasty shades before you wandered back down to Tartarus.

His gift to you is a little lightning pin that, when you're in danger, will send a nasty bolt of lightning down on your enemies. You wonder what good it’ll do since you’re dead already, but shrug and accept it, thinking that he looks years younger and friendler when his smile isn’t packed full of ego and pride.

Poseidon

Cause of Death: Drowning

Poseidon, Lord of the Oceans, Earthquakes, and many other things, is simply- how do you say? Amused? It’s the best way to describe it at least. Of course he was mostly surprised when he appeared expecting the Little Hades to be waiting for him just to meet a Little Shade in his place.

“Why, hello there, Little Shade! You wouldn’t happen to know where the Little Hades is, would you?”

You shake your head, he doesn’t miss the way you nervously play with your hands, drifting back as some of his droplets float close to you.

He laughs at your simple reply. “Shy one aren’t you?” He leans closer to you, squinting and running a hand through his beard while he hummed.

You fight the urge to take a step back, the smell of salt water making your stomach churn.

His eyes flutter shut as he takes a deep breath. He takes a moment before he opens his eyes again and a look of understanding flashes across his eyes. “You drowned. Didn’t you?”

You stare up at him, eyes round and glassy. You nod.

Before your conversation can go any further, Zagreus comes running through the window, surprised to see his Uncle talking to a Shade (you look so scared- he hopes that you aren’t being bullied). You’re quick to take your leave bowing to both and passing the boon to the Prince before you scurry away into the cover of the other Shades.

He hums to himself, a cryptid smile on his face as his eyes follow after you. Such a strange little thing you were- he wouldn’t mind seeing you again.

It takes a bit, but he does happen to see you again, by peaking through a fountain in a fountain room in the Underworld. He spies you trying to poke at the water that he happened to choose, but jumping back each time. You face scrunched up into one of pure frustration. He asks if you’re doing alright there, Little Shade? Causing you to flash out of existence for a moment before settling back down and looking into the pool with wide eyes. Posiedon almost busts a gut with how hard he’s laughing and you huff telling him that it wasn’t funny.

He says otherwise, but asks what you’re doing. When your face bursts into a large blush you mumble something that he doesn’t quite catch and he’s left with more questions than answers as you take the chance to phase out of the chamber when Zag walks in and steals his Uncle’s attention for a split second. He furrows his brow before asking his nephew about you, which Zag, surprisingly, supplies rather quickly, seeing as the two of you talk a lot: apparently you’re deathly afraid of water after you were thrown into the ocean by your supposed best friend. The memories of the waves crushing you deeper and deeper beneath them sticking with you even in death. So, you were trying to curb that phobia. Posiedon nods, letting the words sink in before he offers the Little Hades a thumbs up and says he’ll help with that.

The next time you see the god, he’s eager to call you over and explain that he’s figured out what you were doing last time and offers to let you mess with some of the drops of water that follow him wherever he goes. You stare at them, eyebrows furrowed and looking just as sick as a shade could look. Yet, you still nod your head and hold out a shaky hand. He smiles at you, praising you for your courage and flicks one towards you; it floats gently before it rests serenely on your palm, allowing you to feel the cool sensation of the droplet. You marvel at it, still shaking with an anxiety before you nod. He pulls it away, it shoots back to rest next to his head and you thank him for going out of his way to help you and ease your fears.

He remarks that you should fear the water out of respect: it’s unpredictable, terrifying in it’s own right- vast and, seemingly, never ending, what could possibly be more terrifying than the unknown, hm? He continues to say that you should also hold onto a bit of bravery at the very least, for untold treasures come from there for those who look.

After that conversation, Poseidon makes it a habit of having you hold onto his droplets of water, making them slightly bigger each time for you to get used to them.

By the time you’re able to touch them freely without experiencing crippling fear- the droplets are almost the size of you. Poseidon praises you the more you grow out of your fear.

You do eventually open up to him about how you died and he never tells you that he already knew. Just allows you to talk in a soft voice as you recall it. It’s a nice bonding experience for the both of you and Posideon decides that you’re his favorite Shade and he’ll treasure you for as long as you exist.

The first time you get him a bottle of Ambrosia, you come to him shivering and sopping wet. He’s confused and concerned as he hovers to you.

“What happened to you, Little Shade? Are you alright?”

It takes you a moment to be able to speak. “I- I found a bottle of Ambrosia. I thought-” you take a deep breath, holding out the bottle with both hands- “I thought you’d like it.”

It’s one of his prized possessions now, he takes little sips of it once in a while, but other than that it remains as one of his most precious memories. He’s very attached to you at this point and you’ll forever have his blessing. His gift to you, aside from the undying loyalty, is a shell necklace, if you ever need him- you only need to whisper his name to it and he’ll appear in an instant.

Athena

Cause of Death: Exhaustion

Athena had been prepared to meet with Zagreus- not a curious shade staring back up at her with all the relevance of one of her worshippers.

“What business do you have with me?”

She raises her brow at your gobsmacked expression, watching as you screw your face up before bowing. “Apologies, m’lady, I only happened to bump into your…” you look at where it glows, furrowing your eyebrow, “your orb?”

“Boon.”

You nod your head in understanding before bowing your head again. “Again, my sincerest apologies.”

Luckily, she didn’t smite you, instead asking the question of how you were even talking to her. Getting a shrug from you, you say that maybe it’s because you worshipped her (unofficially, you were never able to make it up to her shrine much to your disappointment) when you were alive- maybe a deeper bond is there compared to someone who had never prayed to her for her protection and guidance.

When she hears this, she’s very interested, pressing you to elaborate further when the Young Prince comes jogging out of the glowing window, waving to you. You slink away, passing the boon to him and bowing to her once again before you disappear into the mass of Shades that choose to wander their new home as well.

After the conversation, you had caught the Goddess’ attention, planting a desire in her to see you again. Even going as far as to write a letter to ask her uncle for a council with you after a week passed of her placing her boon in Tartarus so that maybe you would drift too close to it once again. But each time only the little prince would find them (which she was fine with, but it still left such an unflattering taste of defeat on her tongue each time it wasn’t you). She figured it would be a moot point to send the letter, but it was worth a try.

But she decided to place her boon down once more before she sent it out. Just to try. And this time it worked.

You were the one she saw and she was absolutely delighted- not that she showed it, choosing to keep her stoic and sharp expression. You greet her in a similar way before: awed before bowing your head to her. You continue to go on about how you're happy to see her again and, despite how little you had been buried with, you hoped that she would take this- a broken sword, despite the worn hilt and the deep scars the littered what was left of the flat of the balde; it was still polished (at least what was left of it)- as a proper offering to her for all she had done in your life- even if it truly wasn’t all her doings.

She takes the sword in her hand, holding it high, her eyes shining as she studies it: truly, it was a warrior’s blade. She watches as the history and memories flash in the smooth iron. She remarks that it is a remarkable offering, but she cannot accept it. It feels wrong taking a weapon of a warrior such as yourself.

You smile as her, shaking your head, urging her to take it, for you didn’t need that blade in this afterlife. You had already fought your battles, killing the man who you had been battling with and quelling the rage that had followed you since you were a child for revenge. Eventually, dying from the strain of the fight with a feeling of contentedness.

Athena raises her brow, remarking how that sounded more along the lines of Ares rather than her.

You nod, but say that you couldn’t help but desire her help for she was the goddess attached to your favorite animal. She had to fight the urge to laugh, a shaky smile slipping through as she nods at you. Such a silly thing you are. She decides that she’ll take the sword as a reminder of you, no matter where you should go now. She also decides that you were forming a rather soft cradle in her heart.

After this, she is quick to ask Zagreus about you every chance she gets- not that he minds too much, he tells her about how you’ve been helping him train and you’ve even told him about your life when you were alive (“a general, can you believe that? They’re so young!” Zagreus says as he shows her the new move you taught him). She’s only the slightest bit miffed at hearing that you and Achilles have begun to form a sweet friendship. She’s pleased to hear that his father has been trying to barter with you to get you into Elysium, though she’s a tad confused on the reason you refuse to.

She asks you about it one day and you say that it would take longer to see her and you would prefer to avoid that. It was the only time the goddess has ever had to fight down a blush.

When you get her a bottle of Ambrosia, she’s in pure awe at the huge bottle.

“How did you get one this big?”

You lean against the new sword you managed to get your hands on- something simple and obviously used- you offer her a lopsided grin. “Well, not just any Ambrosia would work, so I decided to try my luck with Lord Theseus and, The Great Bull, Asterius. Took me a couple of tries but I managed to beat them and snag it.”

Athena smiles warmly at it, telling you that she’ll treasure it and think of you every time she takes a drink of it. She realizes in that moment just how important you had become to her, never feeling this… soft for a mortal soul in her life. Her gift to you is a shield and a new sword: the shield bares her symbol of an owl while the sword was ornate with a divine glow. She promises that no matter what they’ll protect you and so will she, you only need to call out her name.

Aphrodite

Cause of Death: A Broken Heart

When the Goddess of Love first sees you- she thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous (of course not as gorgeous as her). The sad look in your eye and the slight frown that rests on your lips makes her almost fall in love right then and there.

“Hello, little one- do you know where the little godling is?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, Lady Aphrodite. I know not where he is.”

She raises her brows, a smile on her face. “How did you know I was Aphrodite, my dear?”

You look up at her, a sudden glint in your eyes has her yearning to see it once again. “No one else could be so breathtaking, my Lady.”

Oh. Oh, she likes you.

She chooses to chatter away with you- despite you mostly listening, adding little things here and there, she feels a strange sense of fullness, like she just ate a full and warm meal for the first time in a very long time, by the time Zagreus arrives. You bid your farewell and she can’t help but follow you with her gaze as your transparent form blends in with the other Shades.

Aphrodite is thrilled the next time she runs into you- or rather you run into her boon. She missed the melancholy look in your eyes, she also doesn’t miss the fact that you’ve come bearing gifts this time: an assortment of colorful flowers rests in your arms and you offer it to her. That glint coming and going like a shooting star as she accepts the offering, holding it up to her nose to take in their sweet scent. How sweet were you to hand her something so delicate.

She asks you where you got them and you remark that you made your way up to Elysium. She’s surprised to hear as such- you didn’t seem like the warrior type. You shake your head, your eyes sweeping low. You weren’t a warrior, far from it- a simple florist if anything. You just drifted until you made it up there and plucked some flowers to make bouquets. You mumble that maybe you’ll be more useful in death.

She tilts her head at the comment, beginning to ask until Zagreus is jogging up to the both of you and it was time for you to leave. She’s a tad annoyed, but reminds herself that the little godling didn’t know- simply trying to break out of this dreary place he calls home and see Olympus in all its glory. She’ll just ask next time.

You gave her another bouquet, this one more beautiful than the last, when she gets the chance to ask you her question. Your eyes pool with a mournful look as you gaze up at her, your hand resting over the place where your heart used to beat as you look to the ground. You explain that you were young when you were wed- just as you were young when you died. You were married off to someone you did not love- someone awful, vile, who beat you down daily just to build you back up so they could laugh when they toppled you over once again. You remark about how you could feel yourself dying little by little, your delicate heart bleeding as your want for life began to dwindle away. You grew sick and you would sit by the window day in and day out, staring out and wondering what your life could have been if you were married to someone you loved. A ghost of a smile blooms on your lips as you look up at her, that glint she oh-so loved twinkling in your eye as you say that you did not die in as much loneliness and pain as you could have; having been making a bouquet dedicated just to her love and sweetness: your Lady Aphrodite who you love, ever so much.

She’s shocked when she realizes the tears that drip down her cheeks, her hand coming to caress your cheek (really your head, she was hulking compared to your small form) with her fingertips. She comments that she would accept every bouquet you made and treasure each flower like it was the one you made for her with your last breaths in the living world.

After that interaction, she comes down a lot more, asking Zagreus if he could bring along her darling florist so that she could talk to you. He always obliges, loving to see the two of you chatter about (well, her chatter about, you usually just listened with a smile on your face as you used the flowers you had plucked into flower crowns for him and Lady Aphrodite). You two become a sort of comfort for him when he’s getting frustrated: seeing your usually melancholy demeanor light up as soon as the goddess appears and in turn the goddess becomes something less vain and more gentle as she speaks to you.

At some point, you’ll probably meet Ares himself- the two never that far from each other, also she adores you, so it only makes sense for you to meet him. He’s honestly a tad unimpressed when you first meet, but when he hears about the heart ache you faced he gains a sense of respect for you, remarking that love is a battle in and of itself and you fought valiantly to keep your ability to love freely (Aphrodite might convince you to have a threesome, I’m not gonna lie, she’s attracted to you on a deep level and she has her trysts with Ares- it’s perfect in her eyes. Though she won’t push you if you don’t desire it).

When you first get her Ambrosia, she’s flabbergasted before it turns into worry for how you got it and the potential danger you were in.

She takes the bottle of gold liquid and the flowers that you had so carefully arranged. Her attention, though, is focused on the said bottle of Ambrosia. “My Darling Florist, how did you get this?” Before you can answer she shoots into a flurry of questions. “Are you alright? Did anything catch you? Hurt you? You don’t seem hurt. Oooh-” she puffs her cheeks out, her gaze sharp- “why did you get me this? It’s dangerous!”

You wait for her to calm down. “I apologize for making you worry, but I simply snuck around and grabbed it from some witches- they didn’t even notice me. And I-” you tap your fingers together, a blush blooming across your face as you look away from the goddess and she decides that she craves seeing that expression on you again- “I thought that you deserved it. It’s a much better offering than my silly bouquets.”

Well, aside from the ‘silly bouquets’ comment (which she corrects you on very quickly), she’s absolutely flattered and it might be the final nail in the coffin that has her falling for you, the little shade in front of her. She decides that you hold a piece of her heart in your translucent hands, though she chooses to keep that information to herself.

Her gift to you is a hairpin that matches hers, though if you don’t have enough hair- she says, you can always pin it to your robe. It’s a blatant claim on her part, but it also helps ease the residual heartache that followed you into death. And, hopefully (a personal hope of her), each time you look at it, you’d fall deeper and deeper in love with her as well.

Artemis

Cause of Death: Arrow to the Heart

She’s confused when she sees you, quick to voice her confusion as well. Also depending on if you're more feminine or masculine (and I don’t mean woman or man, I just mean how you present yourself), she will treat you differently depending. So, for now, we’re gonna go with the more “feminine” option:

“Who’re you?”

You bow. “An honor to meet you, Lady Artemis, I seem to have bumped into that orb on accident. Wasn’t sure what it did and the curiosity got the better of me.”

She hums, she perks when she notices your bow. “You’re a hunter?”

You smile, holding it out to her. “Yes, indeed, my Lady- I prayed to you a lot.” You laughed, adding. “Hoped to join your hunters when I was young.”

She’s quite happy to hear that and begins to chatter along with you. For some reason feeling oddly at ease around you. It’s probably because you were a fellow hunter but she simply can’t help the way she grows an odd sort of… adoration? Something like that, she thinks- for you. She almost laments the fact when Zagreus comes to get the boon.

You nod to him, biding your farewell to the Goddess and passing the boon to the Prince. She doesn’t miss how Zagreus’ eyes shine as you walk away. She almost comments on it but bites her tongue, wanting to observe the prince and the dreamy look that drifts over his features, even as you disappear.

The next time the two of you meet, she asks if she can see you in action. You agree and search up ahead to find something to demonstrate your skills on. You’re quick to find a few Numbskulls. She watches as you take a deep breath, your eyes narrowing on your unassuming targets and your footsteps become silent as you skirt closer to them. You nock an arrow, never looking away. Her eyes gleam with thrumming adrenaline at the way the muscles in your arms tense as you draw the string back. The low groan of the wood barely above a whisper as you wait for them to line up. You hold your breath, releasing the arrow- it goes through all three of them, making them break into dust in a consecutive line, a harrowing scream being wretched from them as they fade from existence. You release the breath you were holding and stand, sending a smile to the young goddess whose eyes shine with stars.

She praises you for your amazing skill and sings of your prowess. You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you argued that you were but a simple bow folk in your living life. Nothing more, nothing less.

She begs to differ! That type of skill only belongs to those of her highest ranking huntresses! She continues to gush about you until Zag comes up and, once again, greets the both of you. That dreamy look coming over his face as he looks at you. She watches as you once again disappear into Tartarus, this time though, after you’re gone, she turns to her cousin and shoots into a tangent about why he had never told her about you before and where did you come from? She has to know!

He answers all of her questions to the best of his abilities but there are even some he doesn’t know about, for example: how you died.

Artemis accepts this and decides that she’ll just ask you the next time the two of you meet.

And, true to her word, she does. She asks you point blank and you can’t help but be slightly taken aback. You laugh softly, leaning on your bow as you begin to recount that you were traversing her forest, as you had done many times before, and noticed fresh foot prints of man. You decided that it would be a good idea to look and you found hunters trying to kill her Golden Stag. You had dove in as quickly as you could, shooting one- the arrow sailing in a clean arch through his wrist before he could let loose his arrow. But as you went to nock another arrow- a searing pain in your chest and heart. You looked down to see blood pooling around your robes, dying the olive green of your cloak a wine red. You remember the last thing you saw was the Golden Stag running away. You smiled telling her that you were happy he got away- you don’t know what you’d do if he had been captured despite your effort.

Artemis suddenly remembers that day: her stag rushing to her and urging her to follow him- he bounded through the forest, frantic and panicked. When they got to a clearing, she was quick to notice the blood and the drag marks of a body. Her stag pressed his nose to the ground sniffing at the pool of blood, his eyes watering and bulbous tears slid down his muzzle. It suddenly made sense. You were the one he was mourning for.

She couldn’t help but grab your hands, resting her forehead against the back of them; thanking you for protecting her stag when she couldn’t. You smile at her, bowing your head to her and thanking her for the countless hunts she went on with you. You pull your hands away from her and hold out your bow to her. She asks what you think you're doing in a watery voice and you say it’s an offering. You couldn’t give much when you were alive and you still can’t give much now, but, this bow- it shall treat her right.

She sniffles as she takes it, trying to hold in tears. She vows to treasure it for all of time as she admires the worn wood.

That day, the two of you became closer as comrades, she would actively come down to say hi to you (and encourage Zagreus to take the leap and court you after she learned of his growing affections for you). The two of you would talk about everything you could think of, explaining how your hunting styles differed or how you could set a trap easier. She had realized that she had never felt this carefree with anyone before. She felt like a child. It felt nice.

When you snag her a bottle of Ambrosia- she’s swaddled in a whirlwind of emotions.

“You… You got this for me?” She asks as she takes the bottle of golden liquid.

You nod, that gentle smiling spreading across your face. “Of course. You had helped me so many times- it is only fair, my Lady-”

“Artemis-” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles- “call me Artemis, my friend.”

She finds you to be a perfect friend- a breath of fresh air from home. She may not feel any romantic feelings towards you, but she still holds you in a dear place in her heart. Her gift to you is a new bow and quiver that will never run out of arrows. The bow is enchanted and you’ll never have to fear it breaking for it will protect you for as long as you exist- in this realm or another.

Ares

Cause of Death: Blood Loss

When Ares first sees you, he is… well- he’s impressed that you stumbled upon his boon, but at the same time… He’s a tad miffed? That you found it?

At the very least he’s condescending as all hell about it:

“What is this? A little lamb came to beg me for power? How foolish. No matter how hard you struggle you will never be much more than some little shade.”

“Ah, sorry, my Lord! Didn’t mean to bump into it!” You hold up the basket in your translucent arms, “I wanted to see if I could find some new ingredients to bake with! I do oh-so miss it, sir.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting that.

He ends up allowing you to chatter on with him despite his obvious judgement on your, what he calls, “soft mortal hobby” until Zagreus comes to do his daily try of breaking out from the Underworld.

As he watches you drift away (after passing the boon and giving words of good luck to the Prince, who happily takes it), he kinda hopes to see you again

And see you again he does! He literally sees you the next day- night? Whatever, he’s never sure when he drops a boon in there- it’s damn dark-

He’s presented with a basket of treats and your gleeful greeting as you chatter that you found ingredients to make some Baklava and you thought that, maybe, he’d like to try it?

He smiles- cruel and sharp- and asks if you truly think that this is a fit offering for a god such as himself?

You shrug, saying he doesn’t have to eat it if he doesn’t want to

He laughs and takes it and you two are off chattering again: him regaling you with his war stories and you of the ingredients you had (somehow) found down here until Zag shows up, once again, the boon is passed to him (this time along with a slice of the delicious, warm Baklava. Which, he’s confused on what it is but he finds out very quickly that it’s his favorite treat).

The two of you talk a lot, which Ares is pleasantly surprised about, usually he’s the scorn of everyone- not that he cares, it causes conflict and he likes that. But you’re so calm and sweet that he just can’t get a rise out of you. Which, on one hand, pisses him off to no end, but, on the other, it’s such a nice change of pace for him. He’s used to the bloodshed and animosity of battlefields- the iron tinged air that follows after the warriors that traverse those fields. And yet, here you are: a shade that always has a treat for him when you run into him and the smell of warm sweetness wafting after you.

So when he learned exactly how you died- he was absolutely floored.

“How did you die, little baker?” He asked one day, fiddling with his knife, tilting it discreetly so that your reflection was in it.

“Oh!” You smiled sheepishly, glancing away from him and placing the bag of flour (how did you even get that? He’d have to ask you next) back into your basket. “Well- you see, I bled out.”

He raised his eyebrow, suddenly very interested. “How? You’re so…” he tilted his head and flipped his knife so that the blade pointed at him and the hilt pointed at you, he poked your arm with said hilt. “Soft.”

“Well…”

You explain that you had a little brother who had a nasty habit of getting into trouble- he was a good person, just made foolish choices- and this time, it had cost you your life. He had pissed off the wrong person and, well, when the man had attempted to grab your brother when the two of you were out walking the stalls on your break- you did the only thing you could think of: you fought.

Of course it went horribly, you’ve never been in a fight before then and, despite all the work you did with dough, it didn’t help much when the man pulled out a knife and dug it straight into your gut. But, you don’t mind too much- your brother’s alive and well and, from what you understand from asking Lord Hades, he had started to be more aware of himself and who he angered. Which made you super happy and proud of him!

Ares can’t help but feel some sort of pity for you. So much life to be taken so quickly and placed in- wait. Why weren’t you in Elysium?

You’re incredibly confused when Ares suddenly disappears (Aphrodite appearing in his place in the blink of an eye- she greets you happily and asks if you have any of Baklava to share today. You do not but you do have some Loukoumades if she wanted some. She did). You’re even more confused when the Underworld shakes and angry yelling fills the entirety of it for a solid ten minutes before all goes back to normal.

You tell Ares about it the next day and he simply hums. Keeping it to himself that he made a whole scene about you not being in Elysium by popping up and butting heads with Hades, of course he got kicked out. That still doesn’t stop him from sending angry letters that can span anywhere from one word letters (usually containing a curse word) to a 30 page essay on why you should be in Elysium instead of milling about in such unkempt places.

The first time you go out of your way to get him a bottle of Ambrosia is the day that both scares the shit out of him and makes him hate you for giving him mushy feelings.

You came to him in, almost literal, tatters: your greenish, transparent form ripped in places, the few wisps of you following after your torn form like they were tied to a string. You had held it up to him in a basket, a plate of Baklava sitting next to it, along with some other treats. “Lady Aphrodite mentioned that she wanted to try my Baklava, so I made her some! Though the Ambrosia is just for you, my Lord!”

He blinked at you, taking the basket in a delicate hold. He turned it this way and that, his chest feeling… warm? He wanted to grimace at the soft warmth that thrummed through his veins, yet it was replaced with a smile as he held up the gold liquid. “Thank you, little Baker.”

It was the first time he felt something so unexplainably soft: so gentle and warm as it settled somewhere between the bottom of his ribcage and the top of his stomach. He listened as you told him how you had gotten it: with Zagreus’ help (you even got to meet Lord Hermes! It was so amazing! He had scoffed at that) he led you to a room with Ambrosia as the prize and, despite the young prince’s worry, you managed to beat the monsters and collect it, mostly, by yourself.

Ares was so flattered, but he couldn’t help the way that your tattered form made him feel a sort of worry. He waved his hands through the wisps of your body before he snapped his fingers and a small blade appeared: a beautifully constructed blade that was an exact replica of his (albeit much, much smaller). He handed it to you, telling you that you should have a proper weapon if you’re going to go out of your way to fight in his name.

Dionysus

Cause of Death: Alcohol Poisoning

Dionysus, unlike many, is incredibly excited to see you sitting there. He adores mortal souls and can’t help but look at them each time Zag chooses his boons and he has the chance to glimpse at their souls (despite his tendency to let them go completely after they die- he can’t help but wonder about them once in a while).

“Why, hello there! What’s a little thing like you doing strolling up to my boon, hm?”

He can’t help but notice the way your eyes are a tad dull, but he writes that off as the dark of Tartarus since it’s gone as fast as he noticed it. You smile up at him, absolutely beaming at the God of drink and madness. “Hello, Lord Dionysus!”

“Oho, you could tell it was me? What gave it away?”

The two of you laugh, diving into a conversation. He offers you a cup of wine and is put off with how long it takes you to decline it. He almost thought you looked absolutely ravenous as you peered into the deep red liquid. He shrugs it off and continues to chatter with you until his favorite Zagman stumbles upon the two of you. He’s quick to say hi to you and even leans down to ask you… something. Dionysus misses it, but still watches the way you stiffly nod before you pass the boon to the prince and scurry off.

He’s tempted to ask about it, but decides that he should probably ask you himself instead of trying to pry. Mortals didn’t take well to people snooping around their private lives, which he could respect.

The next time he sees you though, he relaxes you into a sort of peaceful lull as he chats with you before he drops the question.

You stare blankly at him, that dark look in your eye coming back and making his skin crawl. You suddenly laugh it off waving your hands as you tell him that a god shouldn’t worry about a little ol’ shade like you.

He doesn’t push for an answer but the question still swirls in his mind, even as you toddle off after his Zagman pops up. He decides that he’ll actually ask the Prince this time around.

He asks him point blank and Zag, despite him being hesitant at first, decides to spill how you died. You had been the black sheep of your family, never truly fitting into the carefully set path that they wanted you to follow- so you found solace in drinking from a young age. It had taken the edge off of everything, Zagreus recounted you telling him. It filled you with a warmth you had been missing all your life and you couldn’t help but indulge more and more in it until it slowly became your own personal poison. Dionysus grimaced, for once feeling a sort of queasiness in the pit of his stomach as Zagreus continued on with your story. So, one day, you had drunk yourself into a deep stupor after an awful argument with your parents. But, this time, you never woke up. Instead you woke up floating in the river of blood- the River of Styx.

Dionysus had nodded after the Prince finished the story, playing with the goblet in his hand and swirling the red wine that resides in it. He offers a bitter smile to Zag and bids his farewell (of course leaving a boon of his choice with the lad) popping off back to Olympus.

The next time he runs into you, he asks if you’re feeling alright- if you want to talk. You blink at him, confused at first until realization dawns you. You bite your lip, looking down. He’s quick to assure you that you didn’t have to talk about anything- you two could just have a good time like always. You tell him that you’d like that, not yet ready to face your past. He nods, immediately telling you about an embarrassing story about Ares and how much of a lightweight he was which had you letting out an ugly snort along with your loud cackles.

The god begins to take it upon himself to have you smiling more and maybe remedy those dark clouds that appear in your eyes once in a while. He’s pretty observant despite being piss drunk half the time, it also helps that he’s very intune to your emotions for some odd reason, so he’s quick to pick up on when you feel down or your having something the equivalent to a relapse. He has you drink just a little bit from his goblet since it’s better than quitting cold turkey. And that little bit is always enough to quench your thirst and calm you down. You’ve been needing less and less of it as the days (nights?) pass by.

The first time you get Dionysus Ambrosia is the same day that he almost swears that he’ll marry you. He’s quick to grow emotional with the sheer fact that you went out of your way to get something so special for him, his face almost splitting with how wide of a smile he has on his face.

“You got this for me, man?” He says, holding up the bottle in his hand and inspecting it like it’s a precious jewel. “You know this stuff is hard to come by, super hard.”

You nod, the clouds far from your eyes now. “I had to thank you some way and punching a couple of Shades to get my hands on that was worth it.”

“You punched people for me?”

“Of course.”

He fights the urge to squeal and pops the top off, summoning another cup and pouring some in it. “Here’s to us!” He says as he hands you the cup.

He’s honestly never had so much fun just existing with one person. After that he’s never far from you, one usually not seen without the other around- even despite the Underworld not being Dionysus’ favorite place, he can’t help but be willing to venture down there to see you in person (he’s been trying to convince his wonderful Uncle Hades to let you come up with him to Olympus for a little bit- he’s even got his dad and (other) Uncle in on it. Hades officially hates all of them). His gift to you is a matching goblet that will supply you any beverage of your choice. It also has the double power to protect you from all that wishes to harm you, but you’ll learn that in due time. It’ll be more fun that way, Dionysus muses.

Hermes

Cause of Death: Falling

Usually, Heremes wouldn’t have taken the time of day to chatter mindlessly with a shade. But, it was a different story when that shade summoned him through bumping into his boon- now it’s just interesting!

“Eh? Who’re you? It’s kinda strange for a shade to be here and not my Cos, huh? Did something happen to him? You his stand in or something? That’d be kinda funny because you don’t seem like his stand in- not buff enough or something like that.”

You blink slowly taking in the words of his mile a minute speech as he continues to prattle on. You take a seat in front of the quick mouthed god, getting yourself comfortable as he flutters about and chatters. Not like you minded- he filled in the places where you couldn’t with steady conversation. You nod to some of the quips he makes, just to show you were still listening.

He decides then and there that he likes you a lot and that you should meet Charon. As soon as Zagreus pops up to collect the boon- he grabs the back of your robes and goes zooming off with you in tow. You wave to the panicked prince, allowing yourself to be dragged around. He continues to chatter on and on, only taking a break when he reaches the Boatman (who was not expecting a Shade to be accompanying the God of Messengers). He sets you down, tries to introduce you two to each other- realizes he doesn’t know your name, so you end up telling them your name- and then is quick to say goodbye, after he gives a scroll to Charon, and shoots off.

You end up staying with Charon after learning a bit more about the quiet boatman and Hermes is quite pleased when he realizes that he’d be seeing you around a lot more. He’s quick to flutter about you and chatter for a few quick seconds before zipping off. You wave at him.

The process repeats for a while before he finally takes a moment to really sit with you, Charon having gone to pick up more souls and lead them down the River of Styx. He chatters on aimlessly, asking little questions here and there before he decides to ask the million dollar question: “How did you die?”

You blink slowly as him before murmuring that you fell from a very high place, you head cracking open on the rocks at the bottom and now here you are. He asks why you were messing about on a high place, as that seemed to be something most mortals avoided doing. You explained that there was a kitten stuck in an old root on the ledge and you couldn’t just leave her. So, you crawled onto the branch and put her back onto safe ground, but the root gave way and then you went tumbling to your doom.

Hermes is surprisingly quiet throughout the entire exchange until you reach the end and he says: “you’re a real bleeding heart under all that quiet, huh?” You nod solemnly and he laughs, pulling you into a side hug. How could something with such a fleeting life be so selfless with it? He squeezes you harder before he stands up and bids you farwell, shooting off once again. And, again, you wave as he goes.

He grows attached to you quickly afterwards, bringing you little things that might help make you more comfortable down in the Underworld. Of course Charon is there to keep you company which he’s happy about- and he voices that exact thought to the boatman, who just grumbles out a long: uuuuaagghhh as his reply. He pats his arm and says that he knew he’d get it.

When you manage to get your hands on a bottle of Ambrosia- he’s completely blind sided that he almost trips on his own feet. His face flushing a deep red as he takes the offered bottle.

“How’d- how’d you get this?” His speech is all jumbled and jumpy, though he tries to keep the giddy excitement bubbling in his stomach as bay.

“I saved up my coin,” you said, nodding to Charon who nods back. “And bought it from Charon. I would’ve fought for it, but I’m no warrior.”

A smile splits across his face and the wings on the side of his head flutter. He’s quick to scoop you up and hug you, floating up with you as he does.

Hermes is an absolute giddy mess with your offering, not sure if he should kiss you or simply remain holding you. He had a special place for you before but this just solidifies his adoration for you. His gift to you is a pair of boots with wings on the side of them- an exact replica of his (in your size! Somehow-). He promises that they’ll help you get anywhere you want quickly, also the two of you match! How cute is that?

877 notes · View notes

shoichee · 3 years

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how would atsushi, akashi and aomine react to haizaki threatening/hitting on their s/o?? (cue that one scene where he was literally taking on himuro, kagami, kise, and alex all at once 😡... basically that, but with their s/o)

ANON…. THOSE 3???? LONG STORY SHORT…. HAIZAKI EXPERIENCES DEATH (OR AT LEAST NEAR-DEATH) 3 SEPARATE TIMES…… BUT HERE’S THE “LONG STORY” THROUGH THESE HCs

TW: attempt of physical assault, unwanted advancements… asshole Haizaki? cut under this to keep y’all safe JUST IN CASE

[Headcanons]

Aomine Daiki

you went out to look for Aomine after noticing how he hasn’t come back to his seat for too long

this was shortly after Kaijō defeated Fukuda Sōgō, and it was currently intermission before the next match rolled in

your face was met with crisp air as your eyes adjusted to the dark, scanning for any sign of your boyfriend

upon seeing no one, you decided to walk around the perimeter, just in case Aomine decided to nap for a quick moment on a whim and forgot to tell you

maybe you shouldn’t have walked out alone and in the dark of night, but you figured that in such a public event in a public area, you didn’t think anyone had the balls to start anything fishy around the stadium

oh how you were so wrong

you unfortunately bumped into Haizaki right when he was slowly strolling with his basketball shoes over his shoulder, and you immediately stopped in place, praying that he would walk past by you or perhaps not even see you

you knew that he wasn’t good news based from what Aomine told you and from watching that unpleasant game… he was bad, bad news

why did you think he wasn’t gonna see you? his senses are as sharp as a falcon, scrutinizing you before he realizes your identity

“Oh? Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here… all alone?”

“I, um, I was looking for someone, but I realized it’s been getting a little too late… I think they returned back to the stadium, so that’s where I’m heading…”

your voice slowly diminishes to a soft whisper by the end, but judging from his widened eyes from glee, you knew he wasn’t going to walk past by you after this

“That so?” he drawls, licking his thumb. “The stadium ya say?”

something about his gaze turned sharp and dangerous, “the stadium” triggering unadulterated rage and frustration from the game and from his encounter with Aomine

“I… I really gotta leave,” you say in a hurry, quickly backing up. “Th-They’re impatient, so—”

“Huh?” he mocks, leaning closer to you. “I’m kinda of an impatient guy myself, yeah?” but upon even closer inspection, he realizes that he’s seen you somewhere very recently

“Hm?” he muses lowly. “Weren’t ya sitting with Daiki that game?” when you don't answer out of fear, his eyes merely shine with excitement… “Ohhhh… is that how it is?”

. . .

Aomine returns back to his seat after settling a score with Haizaki outside the stadium, but immediately becomes confused when he sees your seat empty

Sakurai immediately apologizes and quickly informs him that you went out to look for him, and Aomine immediately dashes back out… after all, who knows if you got lost in the dark or if you kept being persistent in looking for him?

imagine his visible distress when he sees Haizaki putting an arm around your shoulder while still holding his shoes and you looking absolutely fearful because you knew what he was capable of

this was a very rare moment where Aomine was not so calm and collected

but he tries to, especially when he knows that Haizaki probably relishes in the fact of “getting revenge” for that punch earlier (and probably realized the connection between you and Aomine to do so)

“Hey, asshat,” he calls out, grabbing Haizaki’s attention away from you, but Aomine notices him pulling you slightly closer to his body. “The fuck you think you’re doing with (y/n)?”

“Hehh? So (y/n)’s your name?” Haizaki merely pays attention to you, completely ignoring Aomine

“Back off,” he says lowly, almost to a growl. “I won’t be holding myself back to just a punch this time if you do anything else.”

at his hardened glare, Haizaki does a gleeful mock-surprise expression before putting his arm off of you and says: “Whoaaa there, Daiki. Never pegged you as that typa guy.”

he licks his thumb before walking away casually without a care in the world before calling out, “It ain’t fun here anymore, I’m bouncin’ out.”

by the time he leaves Aomine’s field of vision, he finally releases a pent-up sigh before calling out your name:

“... Come’ere… he didn’t do anythin’ to you right? Sheesh, I leave you alone for one second—alright, alright I guess it was more than a second… fine, it was several minutes… look, I’m sorry… okay, okay quit lecturing me… more importantly, promise me you don’t go out alone like that. It’s dangerous out there, y’know.”

when you finally ask about what he meant by his threat to Haizaki, he smugly replies, “Aw, that? I gave him a hard sock earlier. Went down pretty easily.”

Murasakibara Atsushi

it’s quite rare that Murasakibara would agree to going to Tokyo temporarily over break, let alone leave his house, but here you two are, resting on the park benches in Tokyo

shortly after, you went to the nearest arcade hall, begging and tugging him along with you to try the strength test for the jackpot prize (totally using his physique to nab home prizes and merch LOL)

he only agreed because you looked way too excited for him to turn the plan down

he still enjoyed himself, if he was being honest; it’s just you, him, his snacks, and some games you both are playing together

Murasakibara notices that the arcade also has a mini food court to the side, and he immediately pouts at you to let him go tasting galore on a food binge

and you laugh, telling him to “hurry up” to tease him and letting him know that you were staying here to try to earn more points to exchange for rewards at the end

you entered a coin into the slot and hummed before seeing a START screen, but as soon as it went black into a loading screen you saw someone’s reflection on it

Haizaki was right behind you

“Whaddya know? Would ya look at that?” he says, hands in his pockets while sneering. “If it isn’t (y/n).”

you merely pretended that you didn’t hear him, considering that the arcade was pretty crowded and noisy, and went on to playing the game in front of you

you hoped that by the time you were done with the round, he’d be gone, but his reflection was very much still there on the arcade machine screen, depicting his laid-back posture against the back of another arcade machine, watching you with complete amusement

after spending all the available coins on hand and still sensing him behind you, you promptly turned to your left to head for the coin machine and acted completely casual, but before you got too far ahead, Haizaki easily blocks your path with an outstretched arm, the hand against the arcade machine

“Whoaaa,” he drawls. “That’s pretty fucked up for you to ignore me like that.”

“... You’re blocking the way, so can you please kindly let me pass?” you flatly say, not bothering to look at his face

“What’s with the cold shoulder?” He tilts his head with a crazed look in his eyes that spelled unpredictability. “I just came and stopped by to say hello to an old friend from Teiko. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“Look,” you sigh. “You’re in the way, and I wish to spend my time here left alone. No, I’m not interested in small talk. No, I’m not in the mood for a bite with you. No, I don’t want to give you my number. Did I address everything?” you finally turned your face to look at Haizaki, but his face contorts to one of a dangerous beast

“Good, good…” he slowly says. “You haven’t changed one bit, haven’t ya? I was wonderin’ where that feisty side of yours went.”

perhaps you shouldn’t have spoken up after all; it only riled him up more

before you can formulate any further thoughts, he grabs your chin and directed it towards him, and you immediately froze up

you tried to dart your eyes around you if anyone noticed, but no one seems to pay attention

“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Cat got ya tongue?” when he looks to where your gaze was at, he chuckles before drawing closer to your face. “No one’s gonna help… not when they think we’re a little thing…”

but he instantly feels a heavy hand on his shoulder, and Haizaki turns around, ready to cuss the perpetrator out, but his eyes widen when he sees a furious Murasakibara

a giant with a very, very hostile aura… even nearby crowds dispersed out of fear for their safety

“Hands off of (y/n)-chin, pest.”

“Oho?” Haizaki releases your face and completely turns around to face him. “Well if it isn’t Atsushi… been a while hasn’t it?” he brings up a hand in a shrugging motion. “While I’d love to chat, I’m busy. Scram.”

“Touch (y/n)-chin again, and I’ll break all of your fingers.”

“Huh?” Haizaki licks his right thumb. “What’s up with ya? It’s non’ya business.”

you took this as an opportunity to run to Murasakibara’s side and seek shelter behind his back, which Haizaki raises a defiant brow

“Hmmm?” he smiles a slow smirk. “Was I really such bad company, (y/n)?”

his smile was completely wiped when he sees Murasakibara’s outstretched hand towards his head, and he deftly dodges his grasp before he walks off with a scoff

“I’m gonna crush him—”

“W-Wait! Just leave him be…” you held onto his torso in a full-attempt to stop him from going too far, and after a few moments, he relaxes with body and finally turns to face you

he doesn’t say anything but darts his eyes all over your figure to make sure there weren’t any injuries on you

he gently holds your hand before he tugs you to follow him to the food court

“Murasakibara…?”

“... You won’t be separated from me if we hold hands, (y/n)-chin.”

“I’m fine, you know.”

he doesn’t say anything more, and when you both settled into your table with your orders, he’s constantly staring at you and giving nonverbal cues that he wants to do PDA with you

becomes very protective and affectionate of you for the rest of the trip

grows very quiet and deep in thought until you reassure him that you were okay because of him stepping in to save you

Akashi Seijuro

it’d be extremely rare for you to ever bump into Haizaki, especially when the only chance you can see him is during the annual Winter Cup

Winter Cup arrives once again with the GoMs being 2nd years this time, and Akashi is still the same Oreshi ever since last Winter Cup

Haizaki definitely had seen you walking with Akashi very closely before the opening ceremony started, and it gave him ideas on how to “get back” against Akashi without directly confronting him

he was gonna mess with you

even after all those years, he still has that grudge against Akashi; the fact that he is one of the few people who has that power over him irritates him to no end

even when Akashi told Haizaki to quit long ago to help him save face, his pride was still heavily bruised

when he was sure Akashi wasn’t with you, he approached you while you were waiting outside the stadium

. . .

Akashi exits out of the locker rooms and carries his duffel bag before he heads to the entrance to greet you, excited in reuniting with you to talk about today’s games and your opinion on Rakuzan’s performance… that is, until what he saw made him beyond furious

“O-Ow…!”

“If ya want someone to blame for,” Haizaki sneers. “Ya can thank Akashi for messin’ with me, yeah? Don’t take it too hard babe, but I’m just returnin’ the favor… by proxy.”

Akashi strides over to the two of you with the intensity of death that would even surprise Bokushi himself

“Haizaki.”

at the sound of his eerily calm voice, Haizaki turns over to Akashi, and his glee is immediately wiped off his face and replaced with one of anger… and hidden fear

he suddenly drops you from his chokehold, and as you hit the ground, coughing to intake air, he turns to Akashi with a vengeful look

after a suffocating staredown between the two, Haizaki tuts and turns to leave in unspoken defeat, knowing full well the consequences from defying against Akashi; it’s something he never did in Teiko and certainly not something he would risk doing now

Akashi immediately drops his cold facade and rushes over to your side, rubbing your back and examining the slight bruises on your neck

his HIGHEST priority at that very moment was your safety, and he decided to take you to a doctor and then to your home, opting to cancelling/rescheduling any plans for today despite your objections

all the while, he coos softly at you and touches you with such care and gentleness that you managed to calm your heartbeat from that sudden attempt of assault

as soon as he feels like you’re safe, mentally and physically (and probably in a safe environment with either a GoM or at your own home), he reveals his true emotions on his face regarding the incident for the first time when he’s alone

being super considerate about your current mental state, he didn’t want to potentially scare you even more with his anger and much more negative emotions

for the first time, he allows his darker thoughts to simmer and stir… it’s one of those rare times where he wishes that Bokushi still existed within him

he eventually finds time to pay a visit to Fukuda Sōgō… to make nice… threats conversation

if you somehow figured out that he was going to do that, only when you convinced him is when he’ll decide to back down

but that’s only IF you figured out about how Akashi really felt about this…

#knb #knb headcanon #knb headcanons #knb x reader #knb x y/n #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #aomine daiki x reader #murasakibara atsushi #murasakibara x reader #murasakibara atsushi x reader #akashi seijuro #akashi x reader #akashi seijuro x reader #haizaki shougo #haizaki shogo #kuroko no basket #knb fic #knb fics

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 2 years

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Do I wanna know? | chapter two

summary: because if we’re being honest, Yelena is one hundred percent an excited tourist and she loves New York, while y/n plans her way out. Meanwhile, although Bucky promised Yori for a full dinner, that might have to wait because he doesn’t appreciate y/n leaving notes everywhere.

word count: 3.8k (maybe this is going to be a short chapter fic for the first part?)

listen to: Death wish- Role Model, Bad blood- Taylor Swift

series masterlist

If we were being completely honest, Bucky was a bit shocked about your whole story as he read file after file on the last few days of what Ayo and the other Dora Milaje had gathered on you, you were a black widow. Bucky, being in Hydra for so long, was aware of their existence and the threat that they pose to everyone that was their mission or that got in their way.

Bucky even recalled that he had been woken up from his slumber to actually train with some and although he usually ended up injuring them, there were a few times when he ended up being knocked out after actually having a longer fight than they usually had. Now, from what he remembered Natasha saying back when they were running away, is that they killed whoever didn’t pass the test. Bucky’s skin was covered in goosebumps as he recalled which ones had failed, which ones had probably been killed because of him.

Another thought popped into his mind as he recalled a mission not long ago, probably fifteen years earlier, a mission involving a target in Iran, a nuclear engineer if he remembered correctly. He had been accompanied by two black widows, the memory of them still seemed foggy but he could almost see their faces if he tried hard enough.

Suddenly, his phone started to ring and he looked down at it, it was Sam.

“Did Doctor Raynor ask you to call me?” Bucky asked as he checked the time on his watch, it was almost five a.m., which you guessed was about five p.m. wherever Sam was.

“It’s nice to hear your voice as well, partner,” Sam stated and Bucky could already feel the smile on Sam’s voice.

“Co-worker,” Bucky corrected him as he closed his files on you but let your picture up as he settled on the tiny desk. He could already see people starting to move on the street, getting ready to work. “So, did she call you?”

“Maybe,” Sam said sincerely with a shrug and Bucky closed his eyes and placed a hand over his face with annoyance. “But I also was wondering why you weren’t answering my texts since yesterday about your date with the pretty Bartender,”

Bucky knew that leaving Sam on “read” about his questions would eventually come to bite him in the ass but he had procrastinated having to deal with his emotions on telling Sam somewhat the truth. That he didn’t feel up to it, that he truly never thought anyone could understand him and his guilt, that he truly felt alone and that he didn’t think of anyone in that sense.

But now, he believed that the last part could be also a lie because there was something about you that he truly didn’t even know how to feel about it.

He’d rather be anything but a target for a trained assassin like you were. But Bucky felt like he had been doomed from the second that his eyes met yours. Did he feel inadequate for being so captivated by someone that had tried to kill him? Yes. He thought about your encounter every day, multiple times throughout the day? Yes.

“It’s nothing, we just didn’t click,” Bucky answered with a nod and he could feel Sam trying to find the words on how to console him and his loneliness, which honestly, he didn’t need right now. “Plus, I’ve been thinking of going back to Louisana soon and perhaps I’ll pay a visit to Sarah,” he said before Sam cut him off.

“Don’t you dare,” Sam warned with a voice flat and hard as a stove lid.

Bucky simply chuckled mostly to himself before continuing. “See, this is what happens when you try to meddle,” he said nonchalantly.

“I hate you,” Sam answered.

In a weird way, it was their way of saying that they cared about each other although neither Bucky nor Sam would ever confess to it. They would truly deny it until the end.

“I hate you too,” Bucky replied with a smirk. “Keep in touch and be careful,”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a groan, Bucky assumed that he was about to get ready to fight. “You too,”

Bucky smiled as he hung up, he was thankful for having Sam to watch his back, even more now that Steve was gone. But soon, his eyes fell back to yours, effortlessly.

God, he thought, he needed to find you.

“I need to find him,” you stated hours later to Yelena as you both ate the pizza you had bought a second ago. Apparently, Yelena told you that it was traditional to eat one slice for one dollar pizza when you first came to New York. So, there you were, you had decided that you needed to take a day off after repeated panic attacks regarding Petrovich, and Yelena had agreed.

“But you already know where he lives,” Yelena answered back, mouth full as she watched you with a pair of heart-shaped glasses she had bought right before eating the pizza. After being free for a while, you realized how fun it was for Yelena to dress in an unusual or out-of-the-ordinary way, you assumed it was the freedom that she had to acquire to actually be whoever she wanted to be.

You sometimes felt jealous of her, you wished you could be that confident but you knew that deep down you, maybe, enjoyed your long trousers in neutral colors and turtle neck sweaters, moreover, you also knew it was easier to go unnoticed that way; just in case someone was following you.

Someone like Petrovich, or Bucky Barnes.

“I know, I know where he lives but he’s a fucking avenger,” you whispered before taking another bite as you watched your phone and realized that you were closer to Times Square than whatever you had anticipated. “Maybe he doesn’t have all the security than others have, but the other’s might freak out and caused them to be more alert if he gets killed in his apartment,”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Yelena stated, clearly not paying enough attention to your plan but to an elegant excentric lady that had just passed close by with a large orange coat that almost touched New York’s streets, she was clearly Yelena’s type.

“What about you?” you asked, deciding that changing the topic was the smartest thing for you to do. “How’s your job going?”

You were a great active listener, nodding and following her with your eyes and trying to call back whatever thing he was saying. Yelena was not the best with things that she didn’t find quite significant on her mind but you always appreciated being the listener in conversations and at least Yelena was always there for you for the difficult conversations.

Yelena simply shrugged as she finished her pizza and dumped the tissues she had on trash close to her as she then put an arm around you.

“I’m having a harder time, a bit more work than what I signed for,” she said as you cocked your head.

“Is it about your younger target?”

“Yes, she’s causing more trouble than anticipated,” Yelena said with a frown, but you could still feel the breeziness as she told you about her problems. “But you know what? Everything is going to be great!” She announced as you took a left on the corner and arrived at Times Square.

You could see the smile on Yelena’s face brightly and before you knew it, she whisked you off to the center of it as you gazed at the larger-than-life screens that surrounded you along with all the buzz of tourists and people close by. You laughed with her before she pulled her phone and took a selfie of both of you with the larger screens that you could catch. Yelena’s joy was contagious as she twirl on the busy streets as if she was a child, she watched with bright eyes everything and it felt like she was seeing colors for the first time, quickly she took your hand, and started to twirl with you.

She didn’t mind the other tourist or other new yorkers glaring at you with snubby frowns on their faces, as they watched you laugh, but before you knew it, you saw a glimpse of something. Your world suddenly stopped turning as you were sure you had caught those dark eyes with cruelty watching you sickly. Before you knew it, your feet gave up and you landed on the floor, Yelena quickly followed as she fell over you because of the sheer force of your game.

But you didn’t mind the pain of landing on the concrete, or of Yelena’s body over you, or your twisted ankle, you had only one thing in your mind.

Was it him? Was it Petrovich?

“Y/N? Y/N are you okay?” She asked with urgency before she saw the spell on your eyes as they frantically looked for any trace of the man you were most scared of but he was nowhere to be seen and you embarrassingly realized that it might’ve been your imagination playing games.

If we were being honest, recovering from the trauma was hard and you couldn’t exactly go to a therapist and you couldn’t find one easily that treated ex-assassins, or current assassins. So, when you had episodes such as this one and the last ones you had been having the last few days, you were left with an unsettling feeling, a feeling of wanting to run away as fast as you could. It took everything in you not to collapse to the floor or to start hyperventilating.

You never felt safe. He might always be right there, waiting for the right time to make you his once more.

“Y/N! Look at me,” Yelena finally screamed at you with exasperation as she cupped your face with his hands and made you look at her straight in the eyes. “You are safe, he’s not following you!”

Yelena wasn’t oblivious, she knew what you were going through. You barely managed to muffled a whimper that left your lips and your eyes shut as you nodded. People were already watching you on the floor having your panic attack and although Yelena wasn’t even phased by it, she knew that you both didn’t need to be the center of attention for this, this was the last thing you needed.

Before you opened your eyes again, Yelena had pulled you up with all the strength that she had, you automatically followed her steps and quickly took her hands before you open your eyes again and wiped some of the tears that were threatening of falling from your eyes.

“He’s not here,” Yelena whispered once more. “You are safe, he doesn’t know where you are and you’re okay,” Yelena assured you, as you squeezed her hand hard as if you were on a rollercoaster.

You weren’t sure if it had been seconds or minutes from falling but soon, your breathing was back to normal and you could let Yelena go. You looked around you and although some people were still staring at you, there weren’t as many as before, but you could still feel the lingering feelings of fear on the back of your mind and your cheeks warming at the thought of what you had done.

“Are you okay?” Yelena asked you again.

“Yes,” you lied as you nodded.

The truth was that you were definitely not okay and that although you were maybe sure that Petrovich had been a hallucination, a fraction of your memories of him, you couldn’t still discredit the theory that he might know that you were in New York. You knew him like the back of your hand and you were aware that you had to move places very fast if you didn’t want to leave any trails behind you.

That’s how it had worked for you for the past few years, you were always on the road, always in movement and you knew that it was a problem if you were in one place for too long because he could easily track you, he could find you and then you would be a prisoner again. If you were being honest, you knew that you were in a constant state of anxiety and the last few days had only made you double down on it. You’d sleep about 10 hours in total the past few days and although you knew that with Yelena you were able to conceal your feelings remarkably well, you could only do so much to hide them from Yelena, or anyone truly.

You had deep dark circles under your eyes and you almost felt frantic, a tight cloud surrounding you all the time, a feeling that made it hard to breathe the more you thought about it. The more you thought about the idea of going back to him, of having to endure the punishments, of having to endure him touching you, it made you feel sick to your stomach the more you thought about it.

You recalled your thoughts as you walked to your place, you had always dreamed about a different life but now, if you finished this, it wouldn’t be a dream anymore. Dreams are not for people who are not living a life already perceived as one.

But you realized that this incident of today only marked a new chapter for your mission.

If you wanted to get out and feel safe from Petrovich, you had to kill James Barnes sooner rather than later.

So, you did whatever good assassin would do when in doubt: review your files. As soon as you had arrived at the small Brooklyn apartment, you dropped your bag and coat on the floor before running to your computer and opening it.

You couldn’t figure James Barnes easily the first time you read those files. He seemed so melancholy and alone but you could sense that there was an entire storm under the surface. The long walks he took mostly on the night confused you for a second before realizing what they did for him, when you were feeling overwhelmed you would usually climb to a rooftop or go to an open space, you would feel the wind whipping at your cheeks and nose, but you didn’t care because you felt so at peace. You’d forget your anger, your fears, the overall feeling of being lost, and in those moments you’d only listen to the wind and the sound of whatever place you were around, trying to figure out where the voices came from, what they were talking about, what their lives might be like, what would happen if you had a similar life like them.

But suddenly, between all the lonely times he had and the times he visited the Avengers compound or his doctor’s office, there were few places where he would be other than his apartment, which was the last place you wanted to go to.

But then, between the hundreds of documents and a coffee that you had made halfway on your reading, you found something. Something that could be clearly useful, something that you were sure could make you leave New York in a couple of days. Before you took another sip of your coffee, you highlighted the name.

Yori Nakajima.

On a normal day, Bucky would be fine with going to the restaurant that had somehow become a safe place for him, a second home but right now, he had barely slept as he tried to do his best to figure out how to find you. Although the Dora Milaje had given Bucky a great dump of information, they hadn’t been exactly able to find your current location, they simply had managed to find where you were staying in Berlin before you came to America to kill Bucky.

Therefore Bucky was on his own. He knew he could handle technology, at least far better than what Steve had but he didn’t particularly enjoy using it, but if he meant finding you he didn’t care. Nonetheless, it hadn’t been an easy task to do so, he had to call Sharon for a favor on how to hack some city cameras and she had helped him easily, although, on the back of his mind he recalled his second rule: don’t do anything illegal.

But right now, he truly didn’t care because he needed to know who had sent you and, although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he wanted to know you.

But the last two days had taken a lot on his mind and now his back was rigid for spending so much time on the desk and on his computer, he hadn’t truly eaten something and before he realized it, Yori had been knocking on his door on the afternoon, claiming that Bucky had promised an early dinner a few weeks ago and he hadn’t kept his promise. Bucky rolled his eyes, trying to explain that maybe tonight wasn’t the best time for an early dinner but Yori had insisted on it.

Too emotionally and physically exhausted to say no to Yori and then listen to him complain about how he was being an awful person, Bucky had simply accepted and promised Yori he would be there by seven. He didn’t want to debate with Yori on why he couldn’t go that night, on why he hadn’t been sleeping, and why, a part of him was extremely embarrassed about running into Leah after not asking her for a second date. He needed more questions regarding his basically none existent personal life. Besides, the longer he kept Yori waiting, the more insistent he would become and Bucky knew it wasn’t just fair to him.

Yori was one of his only and sincere friendships, and following Dr. Raynor's advice, he really needed those at the moment.

So, Bucky quickly put on his leather jacket over his black t-shirt and put on his characteristic black gloves before closing his apartment and walking towards the restaurant. The streets were buzzing with people in Brooklyn and Bucky could feel the warm air of what was left of the summer, he walked through the streets as his mind recalled his childhood memories with Steve as they walked through those very same streets, playing and laughing along, how they would sneak out to go dancing with girls, how they would walk on them as they returned home from school, everything.

Bucky could remember everything and although he always tried to push it away, it chipped at his heart a bit.

But before he realized it, he had arrived at the restaurant, he was missing a couple of steps but suddenly a woman with a long black coat opened the door, she wasn’t facing Bucky’s way so he couldn’t truly see her face but Bucky caught the clicking noise her boots were making against the concrete and how confidently she was walking away, plus there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he tried to brush it away as he opened the door and entered the restaurant.

His eyes immediately fell to where he always sat with Yori at the bar, he was already waiting for him as he motioned on his hand for Bucky to walk faster towards him.

“You should’ve come at the same time as me,” Yori complained as he shook his head whilst he read the newspaper.

“Well, I’m here now, right?” Bucky stated as he finally sat down with a groan next to him, before he knew it Leah had appeared right in front of him with a sly smile, which Bucky reciprocated immediately with a really awkward grin.

“Nice to see you too,” she said with the soft tone of voice she always had when speaking to Yori or Bucky, and Bucky felt his cheeks turning pink as he nodded. “The usual?”

“Yes, please and I already want to order a miso soup, like the girl who was here before,” Yori stated with a smile as he continued to read the newspaper.

Leah nodded and went to the back to get him and Bucky their drinks but Bucky simply chuckled at the thought of Yori flirting with someone his age, he wasn’t aware that he might have it on him but he realized that he could always be surprised by him.

“So, who's the girl?” Bucky asked as he started to unzip his leather jacket.

“She was beautiful, and she knew so much about pinnacle,” Yori stated with his usually joyful tone. “Right, Leah?”

“Oh yeah,” she stated as she returned with their drinks. “In fact, I think that you know her,” Leah added as she cocked her head.

Bucky immediately frowned and wrinkled his nose as he listened to Leah, he knew for a fact that the few women he knew nowadays wouldn’t be close to this bar and even less would know about the existence of Yori, Yori was Bucky’s friend outside of whatever madness he had been living in, he was Bucky’s window to a common life, to a life without blood, a life without fighting, a peaceful life. And so, he had tried to keep as separate as he could those worlds so that they wouldn’t collide because he was aware of the danger that it might present.

“What?”

“Yeah, she left a note and everything,” Leah said as she kneeled on the counter and took a folded piece of paper, which Bucky grabbed it immediately and quickly unfolded the paper as fast as he could.

Bucky felt cold over his whole body and he was sure if he wasn’t already leaning into the counter of the bar, he would maybe even almost collapse. He could swear he was listening to his own erratic heartbeat and his head started to hurt as he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened, around the fact that you had found Yori, around the fact that you could actually cause harm. It felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him as he realized that he had seen you, that you were there, that the thing he couldn’t quite pinpoint was your perfume, that you had been watching him and that you knew, that you weren’t afraid of messing with him in the vilest way.

Before he realized it, he was seeing red.

“Leah, this is my card and charge everything that Yori wants in there,” Bucky stated firmly as he gave Leah his card. She rapidly blink, unsure of what to make from his reaction but Bucky didn’t wait. “I’m sorry, I have to reschedule Yori,” Bucky stated and he didn’t wait for Yori to answer, he simply ran towards the door, bumping into people as he finally reached the street and started to run towards where you’d gone.

As he ran, the paper on his hand fell on the street.

I’m seeing you.

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author's note: honestly lI feelike this chapter and the last are more like world setting than anything else? But I'M SO EXCITED FOR NEXT CHAPTER AND I'LL BE POSTING IT EARLY ON KO-FI because shit really hits the fan.

by the way sI'morry I didn't proof read this so it can be messy

anyway, let me know if you liked it and everything in between, your comments make my day so truly thank you for reading!!!

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feedback is always welcome!!!

donate: help me with my laptop? ko-fi

also available on wattpad (soon)

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