#it still decided to launch itself at me (i was fine thankfully)

[spinspoon]

[serasvictoria]

So I was supposed to be writing an incubus Hvitserk drabble and instead I got this beast that’s a little in over 2k long…

Under the moon, the wolves gather

“You want me to do what?”

“Chain me up.”

Ubbe held up the thick chains and a heavy padlock. You looked at them and then up at him again in confusion. Why was he asking you to do this? The two of you had dabbled in some kinky stuff a couple of times before, but asking you to chain him up was new and you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to subject him to something like that. What if you did it wrong? Besides, the roles were usually very much reversed. Ubbe wasn’t exactly what you’d call submissive. He had always very much been the alpha in your relationship and you liked it that way.

“Did you get this idea from Ivar?” You grabbed one of the ends of the chain and lifted it up. It looked like the kind of chains that people used to tow cars, not like something that people used in sexual games. “I know that he’s into some sick shit, but this is next level…”

“It’s not about that.” He sighed deeply, growing exasperated with your inability to get why he was asking you this. “It’s about that attack.”

“The animal.”

It hadn’t happened that long ago. Ubbe had been in the woods that stretched out at the back of the house. He later told you that he had heard noises and had gone to investigate while you slept. You always slept like a log so you hadn’t even noticed that he had gotten out of bed to begin with. It wasn’t until he stumbled back in later on, crashing against the door that led into the bedroom, covered in blood and using his shotgun as some sort of makeshift crutch, that you had even realised that he had gone outside.

He started rambling incoherently about how there had been something in the woods that had attacked him, something big and black, something that had scratched him and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Thankfully Ubbe hadn’t just lain down and given up. Not him. Despite the fact that the animal had a firm grip on his shoulder, Ubbe had started throwing punches wherever he could hit it. From what you had heard from others, he had a mean right hook and he had once broken the jaw of some idiot who had decided to hit on Ubbe’s then girlfriend. It was safe to say that something like that had never happened again afterwards.

Somewhere in between hitting the animal’s muzzle, it had released him and howled in pain. Ubbe had launched his full weight into the animal, knocked it against the ground and had run back into the house. You could only assume that his adrenaline had taken over at that point. While you did your best to clean out his injuries, he was pointing the barrel of his shotgun at the door right behind you in case whatever the hell had attacked him followed him into the house.

It never came.

The ambulance came half an hour later and after spending the good part of the following day in the hospital, where they disinfected his wounds and gave him a rabies shot just in case, he was home again. He did nothing but lay in the bed and sleep for the following two days. You assumed that it was because of shock, but you weren’t exactly an expert. Hvitserk came by to check on his brother daily and he reassured you that you probably didn’t have to worry. He checked the injuries with you and despite the fact that they looked horrific to you, Hvitserk had confidently stated that your concerns were unnecessary. According to him they were healing just fine. Apparently. Again, you were no expert.

It wasn’t until Ubbe eventually woke up, got out of bed and started eating again that you could finally breathe easily. He acted the same way he usually did. Just the same caring and sweet soul that you had first fallen for.

But then odd things started to happen. His sense of smell seemed to have gotten better. Even to the point that when he was out in the woods, which he patrolled almost endlessly in case the animal came back, he always seemed to materialise from out of nowhere because he could smell that you were making him a sandwich for lunch. That had actually happened a couple of times. Didn’t matter how far away from the house he was, he could smell food. His wounds also healed at a speed that seemed far from normal. About a week after he had gotten attacked, all that you could see were faint markings on his skin, like they were old scars. And one night you had found him in the kitchen while he was eating a raw steak that you were going to cook him the next evening.

Odd things. Too many things to count. And now this.

“I know what it was.”

“I thought it was a bear?” Despite the fact that Ubbe had sworn high and low that it was some kind of wolf-like creature that had attacked him, you knew that it couldn’t be the case. There were no wolves near where you lived. But there were bears so maybe he had gotten it mixed up while he had been attacked? It had been night after all. “It couldn’t have been anything else.”

“It was a werewolf.”

“A werewolf?” You shook your head. “Even a man who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the autumn moon is bright?” You instantly recalled a line from a werewolf movie that you had seen a couple of times. “One of those?”

“Not like in the movies.” He held the chain out to you again and you took it with some slight hesitation. “This is real.”

“Come on. Werewolves aren’t real.”

“Just stop arguing with me and do it.” Tired of talking, he grabbed your hand and dragged you down into the basement. There were hooks anchored into the wall down there which one of the previous occupants had installed for reasons that were entirely unknown to you. “Wrap the chain around my chest and arms. Lock them together. Then go back upstairs and don’t come down here to check on me no matter how much noise I make.”

“Ubbe, this isn’t funny.” He wasn’t one to play pranks on you, but there was a first time for everything. “Why are you even asking me to do this?”

“Because I don’t know what I’ll do if I change. Please just…”

“What if I lose the key to this padlock? Am I supposed to just call Ivar and ask him to bring his bolt cutters? How is that going to look?”

“Just do it!” In all the time that the two of you had been together, he had never once raised his voice at you. You dropped the chain out of your hands and stared at it as it lay at your feet. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He grabbed your hands and angled himself in such a way that you had to look at him. “It’s just… there’s not a lot of time. I don’t know when it’ll happen, when I’ll change…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You brushed your hand over his cheek and smiled at him. “Do you really want me to do this?” He nodded. “This is definitely one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done…”

Ubbe sat in front of the wall and you picked the chain up off the floor again, but before you could take the remaining few steps in his direction, his face twisted in agony. The chain was instantly forgotten and you made it to his side, cupping his face in your hands to make him look at you, but he pushed at your chest hard instead. You landed on your ass on the hard concrete floor. Swearing loudly, you’d been about to ask him what the hell his problem was, but all words failed you when you looked in his direction again.

He was laying on the floor, back arched, clawing at his chest and tearing at his clothes, like they were constricting him. It wasn’t until he managed to tear the fabric away, that you noticed that his nails had gotten longer and not only that, his hands seemed to have changed. Stretched out and deformed, his palms lengthened to almost inhuman proportions. His shirt gave way and when you saw his chest you started scooting away from him, moving backwards until you were sitting underneath the stairs, your back pressed against the wall behind you.

His claws were tearing at his skin, creating large openings in his skin and fur started poking through somehow. His jeans tore open as the entire lower part of his body started transforming as well, legs getting even longer than they already were. You could hear his bones breaking and he started howling, his own voice turning into something more animalistic the longer he kept going. You slammed your hands over your ears in a weak effort to stop yourself from hearing him, but it was to no avail. Nothing could stop that noise from reaching your ears.

Rolling over, he was on his hands and knees now, his limbs changing to something new, more wolflike. The scream that had kept pouring from his mouth got lower as his rib cage expanded. His face was the last thing to change. His entire skull was shifting. His jaw elongated to properly accommodate his new teeth and where had once been his nose, a muzzle was appearing, pushing itself out of his skull. His ears, longer and pointier, started appearing out of his fur. Somewhere in his howl, his own voice still appeared to be mixed in there, making it sound altogether eerier. Right before he collapsed to the floor, he turned his head in your direction and you saw that his beautiful blue eyes had turned yellow.

You released a shuddering breath when you saw that he wasn’t changing anymore, but when you saw him shift, you were frozen. You found yourself wishing that you could press yourself further back into the wall or that you could get your legs to move. But even if you could make your muscles cooperate, what would you do? He could probably smell you. The fear that was wafting from your pores was bound to be some delicious perfume that he’d be able to follow no matter where you went. On the off chance that you even managed to make it outside, he’d probably pounce on you before you ever got into the car and then he’d tear you limb from limb right there on the driveway.

You didn’t stand a chance.

Where his transformation had obviously hurt him immensely, none of that pain was present now. He got to his feet and shook his head. Where Ubbe had been before, a huge wolf now took his place. A whimper escaped from your lips and he turned himself in your direction almost lazily, big yellow eyes completely fixed on you. His movements were slow, probably not seeing the need to throw himself on you when it was quite obvious that you weren’t going to move anyway. It was almost as if he moved in slow motion and the closer he got, the more that you became aware of the fact that saliva was dripping from his lower jaw. He took in a deep breath, taking your scent in deeply and he blinked once before moving in even closer.

Right before he stuck his head underneath the stairs, you closed your eyes and found yourself silently saying prayers to whichever god you could think of, praying that it would be over soon and that you’d go quickly at least. As soon as his warm breath hit your face, you stopped breathing, too terrified to even take as much as another breath. It wasn’t until your lungs started burning up from lack of oxygen that you finally took in another deep breath. You opened one eye carefully while you waited for him to move. Instead you found him looking at you almost curiously with those new big yellow eyes of his.

Completely out of the blue, he suddenly pressed his muzzle against your neck, taking in another deep breath, before turning his head so he could lick your cheek. You wiped at your cheek when you felt the wetness and he briefly looked down, almost apologetic in his gesture, before fixing his eyes on you again. With shaking hands you reached out, slowly moving towards his head and when he didn’t move, you ran a hand down his jaw. He eased into your touch almost immediately and you saw his back leg move to scratch at his side when you scratched his ear. When you giggled nervously, he fell down onto his side and nudged at your legs with his nose. You stretched your legs out in front of you and he dropped his head down onto your thighs, putting one of his paws over you to make sure you couldn’t pull away.

“What am I going to do with you now, huh?” He cracked open one eye to look at you and you leaned forward to press your lips on his head. “Big bad wolf.”

*****

Tagging: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @methotrex8 (I forgot to do it last night, it was late!)

[bailey-reaper]

A drabble where Barok finally asks his crush out on a date but everything goes wrong? with a happy end? :)

A Comedy of Errors... (but Barok's not laughing)

Notes: 😂 Even though I love Barok having happiness and love and kindness to counterbalance all the suffering and turmoil he's endured... I do also love it when he loses his rag at people / things go wrong and irk him. I *love* everything that goes on in his office during the 3rd case in the 2nd game... it's my favourite part of the whole thing! He gets so angry and it's glorious!

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: schadenfreude; cringe; things going wrong; frog mention...

"It's a date!" they said with a big smile and a rosy blush on their cheeks. It almost felt like a dream – Barok had said he was 'deeply fond of them' and invited them out to dinner with him; a date.

"Yes..." Barok nodded, similarly blushing but trying not to acknowledge it, "I'm... looking forward to it," and he was. Deeply.

"Me too!"

The two agreed to meet a week later at a restaurant that Barok was familiar with; he explained it was not because he thought his taste was better, but rather because he was on good terms with the proprietor and, thus, far less likely to be poisoned...

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

At last, after a week in which the two of them thought of little else, the day of their date arrived. Despite a few annoying things going awry prior to him leaving the home, such as a button popping off his shirt when he accidentally rolled his shoulders back with a little too much gusto and his favourite cravat still being too wet to wear, he was determined not to let himself be downhearted.

He arrived at the venue promptly and waited outside for his beloved to arrive. Much to his frustration, a pigeon decided to relieve itself from its perch just above him -- leaving an unpleasant stain on the shoulder of his dinner jacket. Thankfully, he spotted it before his beloved arrived and was able to remedy it with a handkerchief before they saw it.

That didn't stop him scowling up at the pigeon, who flew off in a hurry as it clearly sensed danger.

"Barok!" their voice drew his attention, and took his breath away as they approached looking as radiant as ever. They were clearly dressed for the occasion.

"You look lovely," he remarked as he took their hand and kissed the back of it, "Thank you for coming."

They giggled, "The devil himself couldn't have stopped me."

He smiled at that, "I'm glad..." before offering them his hand, "Shall we?" they nodded, accepting his hand, and allowed him to lead them inside. Barok regarded the maître d and frowned slightly. Something was niggling in the back of his mind; déjà vu but not in a pleasant way, "Good evening," he pushed the feeling away. It would not spoil this date, "I arranged a table for two, name van Zieks."

"Ah yes!" the head waiter said, smiling, "Good evening, Lord van Zieks, allow me to show you to your table."

They were led to a lovely little table that offered a wonderful view of the inner courtyard and the fountain that was situated in the centre of it; it was an appropriately intimate space for a date. Barok pulled the chair out for his beloved and tucked them in, before sitting down himself. The head waiter handed them both menus and set a wine list down on the table, leaving them to look over the fare on offer.

"Wow," his beloved breathed, "This place is amazing."

Barok smiled, "I'm glad you like it... it's a fitting venue for one as beautiful as you."

They blushed and buried their nose in the menu, "T-...Thank you..."

"What wine would you like?" he picked up the menu to inspect the selection on offer.

"I think you're best suited to choosing that!"

"Hmh... very well."

Finally, the maître d came over, "Can I take the order of the two lovebirds~?"

Barok peered at him once more, cocking his head slightly as he studied the grinning man; there was definitely something... odd about him. It gave rise to the most curious irked sensation in the pit of his stomach, "Ahem... We'll have a bottle of the House Sauvignon--"

"Oh do forgive me, sir, we're fresh out of the Sauvignon Blanc..." the waiter said, vaguely apologetically.

"I see," Barok sighed, "Never mind... we'll have a bottle of the Moselle..."

"Mmmm... we're out of that one, too...."

"How about a bottle of Hock?"

"Sorry... none of that, either..."

"Well, in that case... a Burgundy?"

"... Ah... I regret to inform you...."

He grimaced in disbelief, "What the devil is going on... has your cellar dried up or some such? What wines are on offer, then?"

"Well... actually we're fresh out of wine, sir."

"Then why didn't you say that at the start?! More to the point, why bother bringing the wine menu over?"

"Well... on the other side are a number of other drinks that are available..."

"....." he sighed and turned the double-sided drinks menu over to peruse the other beverages on offer, "Fine. A bottle of Moët & Chandon. Black label."

"My, my! Someone has expensive tastes!" the head waiter remarked with a jovial laugh.

"..." The seething glare Barok offered in reply seemed to have the effect of making the man wither somewhat, "Just... tell me you have the damned thing in stock."

"Yes! We do indeed."

"Well that's a relief. Now, before we even bother with food, is there anything not on the menu?" he wasn't going through that... ordeal again.

"No, no!" the annoying man said with a shake of his head, "The kitchen is fully stocked!"

"A small mercy," Barok observed, before looking over at his beloved, "I'm... sorry about that rigmarole regarding the wine... what would you like to eat?"

They smiled and shook their head, "Oh, no, no, don't be!" then, they gave their order to the maître d before folding over their menu and returning it to him.

"Excellent taste!" the waiter said, before looking to the dour reaper, "And what can I get to delight you, sir?"

"Frogs legs to start," he said, "Followed by the steak, rare, with seasonal vegetables."

"Very good, very good!" he made a careful note, then took both the food and drinks menus, "I shall bring over your champagne in a moment and your food will be ready shortly. Do enjoy the wonderfully ambient surroundings, perfect for a date like this!"

Barok peered at the waiter as if he were more than overstaying his welcome; finally, he left them in peace.

"Gods..." he shook his head and sighed, "I do not remember the head waiter ever being that... vexatious. What has gotten into him?"

His beloved smiled, "Oh it really doesn't matter, I'm just happy to be here with you."

"Yes..." he nodded, "You're right, I'm delighted to finally have a chance to spend time with you... like this," it was a blessing that they'd reciprocated his feelings and were amenable to a date with him. No doubt most would be intimidated by his pseudonym and the general way in which he carried himself. But not them, not his beloved. They seemed to accept him as he was, and that was greatly welcomed.

They talked, mostly about how their weeks had been and about shared interests, such as the books that had taken their fancy of late. It was surprisingly easy to converse with them, which was a welcomed change from Barok's perspective. His beloved made for far more enjoyable company than the wooden aristocrats who drove him to the depths of boredom with their inane nattering and inconsequential opinions.

"This champagne is really lovely," they remarked, after taking another sip from their flute, "I'm not normally that fond of bubbles... but this has such a nice, fruity after taste."

"I'm glad you like it," he said with a nod; relieved that the beverage had a) materialised and b) wasn't corked or in some other way undrinkable. The way this date had been going thus far, outside of the interaction with his beloved, had left him wondering what else might go wrong.

Sadly, he didn't have to wait long...

"Your starters!" the waiter announced as he came over with two plates, their contents concealed by silver cloches. He set the two plates down, one in front of each of the diners, then lifted the first cloche, before turning to Barok's, "And, for the gentleman, frog's legs..."

Only, it was not frogs legs. It was a whole, live frog. After a few blinks of its beady black eyes and inflations of its vocal sac, the amphibian launched itself off the plate and into Barok's hair.

"What?!" he reached up in a bid to grab the creature, but his unwelcome passenger hopped out of the way and on to the floor, before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. Barok glared at the waiter, "What is the meaning of this?!"

"Gracious me! I do apologise! I must have written 'raw frogs legs' by mistake!" the maître d said with a look of shock that was strangely disingenuous, "Do forgive me! I shall put in your order immediately--"

"Don't bother," Barok snapped, "Just make sure the main course isn't an entire living, breathing cow."

"Now, now, don't be ridiculous, sir...."

Once more he levelled the waiter with a withering glare.

"Please," Barok said to his beloved, "Don't let your food go cold."

They smiled, "Shall we share it, perhaps?"

"Oh..." that brought a blush to his cheeks, "No... I... couldn't possibly take from your plate..." but, to his surprise, a piece was already being presented to him. He decided against continued declining, and leaned forward to accept the mouthful, "Thank you..." he said, once he'd finished chewing and swallowing.

"It's good, isn't it?" his beloved said.

"Yes..." perhaps all the more so, having come from their plate.

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

Thankfully, the rest of the date seemed to go surprisingly well -- in so far as there were no more frogs or similar cock ups (though his steak was medium, much to his disappointment, he decided against complaining as the mere fact the thing was edible was relief enough).

"I've had a lovely time," his beloved said to him as they finished off their dessert course.

"So have I," Barok replied, smiling softly, "Thank you, for agreeing to join me."

"Oh.... no... it's my pleasure... I've enjoyed myself a great deal in your company, Lord van Zieks."

"I'm glad to hear it... this has certainly been an... eventful date. I'm sorry, again, about all the oddities that have occurred."

"Oh, no, don't be! It's been a wonderful and memorable date, I loved every minute!"

"Oh ho! It seems this date has been a marvelous success, dear fellow!" announced a familiar voice. Barok knew that voice. It brought a scowl to his lips and a furrow to his brow almost instantly; as if the very muscles in his face were conditioned to respond in this manner.

"Herlock... Sholmes?!"

The maître d tore off his disguise and grinned happily, "Yes! It is I! You never suspected a thing!"

"... What are you doing here?!"

"Why! I had heard rumours that the Reaper was going on a date, so Iris and I took bets on whether that was the truth or not. Alas, it seems I now owe her five pounds..." he looked momentarily crestfallen, "But who can be glum when such a lovely couple is here before them? Truly, you two are as sweet as syrup together!"

"Hehe, thank you," his beloved smiled happily at the compliment.

". . . . . . . So you came to sabotage my date?" Barok hissed.

"What?! No! I came to ensure that you had a most memorable and eventful night, and I think I've exceeded expectations on all fronts!"

"You have indeed!" they said, nodding.

"Well," Barok folded his arms, "In that case, I shall leave the bill to you," he stood up smoothly and took his beloved by the arm.

Sholmes fell over, arms flailing, "Wait... WHAT?!"

"Farewell, 'detective'," Barok called over his shoulder as he escorted his beloved out the door. It brought him no end of delight to think that the man would be washing pots until the early hours.

(Let that be a lesson to you, you second-rate crime scene botherer!) he thought, smirking to himself. This was a most pleasing end to what had been a wonderful date, despite Herlock's meddling.

"You have some truly interesting and intriguing friends, Barok," his beloved observed as he walked them home.

"I'm not certain that 'friend' is the correct word here, my dear," he replied, though he was still smiling to himself as he held their hand and squeezed it fondly. It seemed that despite the ... characters that plagued him, they were not enough to deter his beloved.

That was certainly a huge relief.

[kurlyfrasier]

Terrified: Part 5

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: Raph saves you from ruffians one night in an alley after watching out for you for weeks without you knowing. Which leads you to getting to know the guys and becoming part of the family. But Raph keeps a distance and you don’t understand why. 

Word Count: 1993

Warnings: I’m sorry. Also, I accidently switched back to 3rd person for the readers pov at the end of this. Oh, and some violence. Ummm....I have no idea what happened. I had no control, I swear.

I stormed out of Donnie’s lab to find Leo. He was considered a leader, maybe he would understand. Maybe he would get my hints. Or maybe I could convince him it was a waste of their time to see me home. Maybe-

“Oomph.”

“Whoa there, Y/n,” he set his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. I looked up through teary, frustrated eyes to find the very brother I had been looking for and launched, wrapping my arms around his neck as the tears silently flowed. He continued to hold me, rubbing gentle circles on my back as he cooed about how everything was going to be okay before I finally loosened my hold. He kept me in a loose embrace, looking down at me with worried eyes like any big brother would. I had always felt that brotherly pull toward all of them, except Raph; who made me feel warm and embarrassed and safe and frustrated.

“S-sorry,” I sniffled, rubbing the tears off my damp cheeks as my sight fell to our surroundings. Anything but him.

“Hey,” he leaned down to my eye level, shaking me gently to grab my attention. “Hey hey hey. There’s no need for apologies. Why don’t you tell me what happened so I can pummel who did this to you. Was it Raph?”

“Wha- Raph- Why?” I shook my head and met his ocean blues with a determined gaze. “That doesn’t matter- I think you guys should stop following me home-”

“Wha-”

“It’s not worth your time-”

“That’s not-”

“All of you have better things to do than make sure I get home safe-”

“Y/n,” Leo demanded my attention once more. “What brought this on? We want to make sure you get home safe. It’s not any trouble or a waste of time. We would do anything for you.”

“But-”

“You mean everything to-” He cleared his throat and towered above me, shifting on his feet. “Uh… to us. You’re like a sister to us. And we don’t let anybody hurt family.”

“Oh,” I breathed out, not feeling quite so burdensome. “Then maybe don’t force Raph to-”

“Raph? He’s the one who-”

“Yo! Dudette!” Mikey called from the couch just on the other side of the room. “When are we gonna race!?”

“Coming!” I answered with a tight laugh before looking back up at Leo. “Are my eyes red? You think anyone will notice?”

“No,” Leo smiled down at me. “Especially not Mikey.”

“Good,” I tiptoed up to peck his cheek with a quick thanks and skipped off to the couch, spirits lifted.

~~~~~~~~~~

Leo found Raph sitting against a wall in the darkened dojo, looking dejected. 

“She asked for us to stop accompanying her home,” Leo told him, voice quiet in hopes of not upsetting his brother.

Silence reigned, so he tried again as he sat next to Raph.

“She thinks we have better things to do than keep her safe.”

“Fine,” Raph sounded rough, defeated, hopeless.

“It’s not fine, Raph. She thinks she’s a burden,” Leo dragged his brother off the cold floor and slammed him against the wall.

“I heard ya, Fearless,” Raph growled out, shoving Leo out of his space. “Just like I heard her beggin ya not to force me-” he choked out. 

So this was your problem. Nobody got to you in the subway, except yourself. You didn’t want him and his brothers watching out for you anymore. You thought you weren’t worth their time- his time. Worst of all, he was the one that made you feel this way. Somehow he made you think you weren’t worth his time. That you weren’t good enough for him.

“You have to change her mind, brother,” Leo stated, calmer than he felt.

“Me?” Raph’s eyes bulged, incredulous. “No- I- I can’t. I’ll just mess it up. She already thinks- Just tell her I won’t follow her home if she doesn’t want me to,” he trailed quietly in the end.

“I’m not your messenger,” Leo ground out menacingly, getting nose-to-nose with Raph. “Fix this or you’re going to lose her.”

There was nothing Raph could say to that, even if he wanted to. It was the truth and he was terrified he had already lost you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mikey and I were halfway through our last race when I noticed Raph and Leo walk in out of the corner of my eye, distracting me. Knocking me off the road. Or so I’d like to blame them when Mikey jumped up, rubbing his victory in my face. I ignored him. Setting the controller down I  glanced back where I saw Raph minutes ago, only to find him staring down at me barely an arm’s length away, a slice of my favorite pizza in hand.

I was stunned, to say the least, as my eyes shifted between him and the pizza he seemed to be offering me.

“Ya hungry?” He asked, raising the pizza closer to my nose.

“Uh, yeah,” I timidly reached for the slice, being extra careful not to touch Raph. One touch and I knew I’d be back to square one of Operation: Move on from Raph. While playing the videogame with Mikey I had decided I may not be able to get the guys to stay away, considering they all seem to be adamant about keeping me safe, but I could control how close I am to Raph. Ergo, the plan to stay away from him. To keep me from crushing even harder on him. To keep my heart safe. To keep my sanity.

Leo was right, I am family. To most of them, at least, and Raph wasn’t going to keep me away.

“Ready for the movie?” He asked, surprising me. Normally he didn’t start conversation with me. It was always nods and grunts. We had a… strange friendship, now that I thought about it. We never really talked, but I had always felt magnetized toward him. Probably due to the fact that he saved my life.

“Uh… yeah,” I bit into my pizza, turning away so as to not be intimidated. He was at least a foot taller than me and nobody could ever tell me those muscles weren’t unnerving. When I wasn’t drooling over them, that is. “I’ll probably just sit on the bean bag, by the way, so I’m not so much of a bother.”

“Yer not a bother,” he said, voice husky, drawing my attention. 

“My children,” Splinter stated. “You all know where drinks and more pizza is if you wish for more. I shall be meditating in the dojo. Enjoy your movie.” 

We all mumbled our thanks through mouthfuls of pizza as he strode away. I took the chance to move away from Raph and sat down on the edge of the couch, glaring at Donnie, who stole the bean bag and pretended like he had no idea that’s where I planned on sitting. Mikey started the movie as Leo turned down the lights.

I had just started to relax when I was suddenly lifted, only to be sat back down on Raph’s lap as he loosely held me in his arms. I stiffened in his hold, willing my heart to calm down. Reminding myself not to get comfortable, that I was going home directly after the movie. 

“Relax,” his breath tickled my ear as his arms snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. 

I nodded, unable to formulate any words as I unconsciously melted into his hold.

“You always sit here. On my lap,” he continued to whisper, resting his head on my shoulder. “Where you belong.”

What did he just say?

~~~~~~~~~~

You froze in Raph’s arms, breaths becoming uneven as the movie carried on. He had no idea what movie was picked for the night. Nor did he care. His mission: to confess all, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn’t run away from him. He supposed he could always keep you trapped in his embrace, never to leave him. But he figured you wouldn’t like that much if you did decide to leave. 

Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, you relaxed. Not long after that, he heard light snores rise to his ears. He decided that was his cue to carry you to bed. His bed. And this time he laid down next to you, more than a little unwilling to let you out of his sight, hopeful for tomorrow.

He laid there, intent on watching you sleep peacefully- just until he had to go on patrol. When you snuggled closer into his chest, his heart soared. Hair fell across your face and with a shaky hand he gently, carefully tucked it behind your ear. You sighed, stopping his heart. Vaguely, he wondered what he could possibly do to win you over. Eventually, he allowed himself to rest his arm around your waist, hoping it didn’t crush you. 

After a half an hour of so, Leo knocked lightly on his door, signalling it was time to go above ground. Reluctantly, Raph moved his arm that was on top of you, but you latched on- stopping him cold, afraid he woke you up. After a few seconds he realized you were still sleeping, slowly he slid his arm out of your grip and tip-toed out of his room without a glance over his shoulder. Although it didn’t seem to help the temptation to crawl back in bed with you.

Once out of the sewers they flew rooftop to rooftop, looking for thugs, Foot, Kraang- anything to make the night go faster. Thankfully, his brothers left him alone, but that also made it a quiet night. Which allowed his mind to work on overdrive. Distracting him with thoughts of you: the smell of your hair, your soft skin, your curves, the way you felt in his arms- so small in his grasp. Granted, most humans were small compared to him and his brothers.

So when they came across a handful of Foot, his mind was elsewhere. So much so, he scarcely noticed the glint of a blade coming at him. He blocked it with his sais. Just barely, forcing it to slide off the edge of his three-pronged weapons and sliced up his arm. He hissed at the burning sensation that seeped deep into his muscles- deeper than the cut itself was. He spun around to plunge with his uninjured arm, but was stopped short by an arrow flying into his bicep, forcing out a roar before he fell to his knees. 

His brothers were quick to surround him, easily knocking the swordsman down as the archer fled the scene, but not before forewarning them of Raph’s future- who had now face-planted into the pavement.

“It’s too late,” the archer shouted down at them as Raph succumbed to darkness. “He’s as good as dead.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up with a start, recognizing the familiar 80s band posters and dumbbells surrounding you. You berated yourself, astonished you actually fell asleep in Raph’s arms the night before. You weren’t supposed to stay the night. That wasn’t part of the plan. Then you remembered what Raph said. That you belonged. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you swung your legs off the bed, preparing to face the typical Raph. The one who only looked at you to check for injuries. The one who kept his distance. The one who hid his kind heart that you had gotten a glimpse of that first night you met. 

You took a steadying breath and made your way to the door, not expecting three somber mutants to be standing outside of Donnie’s lab.

“What’s wrong?” You looked at Splinter first, then Leo, and Mikey. None but Splinter were able to meet your gaze. “Where’s Raph?”

Suddenly, you knew something was wrong. Your breath hitched, your heart sped, and blood drained down to your toes. You were terrified.

“G-guys?” You whispered out. The words were barely able to pass the lump in your throat.

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

Part 6

[bitchin-beskar]

Spidey Sense

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: So the original prompt for this was something along the lines of: "hey, what if Joe and Nicky keep pictures of each other in their wallets to remind them of why they're doing this whenever they have to be apart" and this was born from that. Enjoy!

Tags: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin @perropascal

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my works!

Please like and reblog! I love feedback!!!

Gazing down at the image of the love of his life, forever immortalized by his hand, never failed to bring a smile to Joe’s lips. His drawings would never be as magnificent, as breathtaking as looking at Nicky with his own two eyes, but whenever they were apart, he had to make do with images drawn by his hand. 

Slipping the small slip of paper back into his wallet, Joe flipped it shut and slid it into one of his many pockets. He hated going on missions without Nicky, but this particular job had required his expertise in infiltrating one building while Nicky’s skills as a sniper were required four blocks away. It was unfortunate, but not the first time it had happened, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. 

When Copley had informed them of the job, he’d made sure they knew that he’d been unable to get any estimates on the number of guards they’d have to deal with. It made Joe uneasy, but they’d gone through with it anyways. Some tech company was trying to use their software to hack into the Pentagon to steal the locations of missile silos located all over the US. The government was very concerned about this threat, and so Copley had called them in.

Joe was supposed to create a distraction at the main headquarters, drawing the company’s attention and thus, allowing Nicky to eliminate guards at the warehouse that housed the company's main servers, which would then allow Nile and Booker to get in and plant explosives. Boom! No more servers, no more threat.

Nicky had been worried about Joe causing a distraction when they didn’t know the amount of guards, but Joe had tried to soothe his beloved’s fears as best he could. 

“Habibi,” he’d said, hand resting on Nicky’s waist, holding him close. “I will be fine. And if anything were to go wrong, I know that you will not allow them to hold me for long.”

Nicky had leaned his forehead against Joe’s, one of his many, silent, I love you’s that he bestowed upon Joe throughout the day. “I would prefer it if nothing goes wrong.”

“As would I.”

***

Nicky had been right to worry, and Joe knew he would never hear the end of it. There had been twice as many guards as Copley’s estimate, and even with Joe’s healing, and centuries worth of experience, he’d quickly been overwhelmed. They’d knocked him out–although, perhaps they’d killed him, Joe wasn’t entirely sure–and when he woke, he was chained to a metal chair, bolted in the middle of an all white room.

His first thought had been something along the lines of how poor of a choice it was to put him in an all white room, as it undoubtedly would become quite the grotesque scene when Nicky arrived. Blood clashed so horribly on white walls, and Nicky could get quite ferocious whenever Joe was threatened. 

His second thought was on the fact that even while bound, he could tell that his wallet was no longer in his pocket. That, in of itself was of no consequence, practically everything in it was fake–it was hard to have valid ID’s and such when you were an immortal warrior born nine hundred years ago–but there was one precious item in that wallet. 

The drawing of Nicky was one of many, but that didn’t mean it was any less special. Joe had saved every single scrap of paper he’d ever drawn Nicky’s likeness on, and while some had aged beyond recognition, he hadn’t had the heart to let any of them go. He knew that Nicky similarly had many, many photographs and paintings of him. Nicky always professed that he wasn’t as artistically inclined as Joe, but every time Nicky sketched him, Joe could see the love and care that went into each piece of art, and he fell in love with Nicky all over again. 

He was jolted out of his musings by the door opening violently, slamming against the wall. He didn’t react outwardly, instead analyzing each of the men that walked into the room. Ten men entered, the last, an older man with grey in his hair, shut the door behind him, making a show of locking it. Joe wanted to scoff. These men didn’t intimidate him in the slightest, and they would have to try a lot harder if they wanted to get a reaction out of him.

“Who sent you?” 

Joe laughed. So this is how they were doing this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man scowled, the expression twisting his features into a mask of hatred. “I don’t like your attitude, kid.” 

Joe laughed even harder at that, his body shaking with mirth, although his eyes were cold as ice. “I’m not quite as young as I look,” he chuckled under his breath, watching as the other men shuffled awkwardly. They clearly feared the older man, and he could see in some of their eyes that they feared for him if he continued to antagonize their leader. 

There was a sharp crack, and Joe’s head snapped to the side, the backhand delivered with an impressive amount of force. It might’ve hurt, if Joe hadn’t lived as long as he had, and had experienced far worse. Still, he kept up appearances. The longer these men were unaware of his healing and his immortality, the better. 

“Who sent you?” 

Joe grins, the perfect picture of innocence. “Who says anyone sent me? Perhaps I decided to come all by myself?” He probably shouldn’t be antagonizing this man, but he’s having too much fun. 

The man snaps his fingers, and one of the other men rushes forward to hand him something. Joe recognizes it as his wallet, watching as the man flips through it, pulling out his driver’s license. “Joseph Jones? Is that even your name?” The man scoffs. “Why were you trying to break in?”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to break in.” The man looks confused for all of two seconds before Joe opens his mouth again. “I’d already broken in. Your men found me after I got in.” Joe can’t help but brag a little, because, well, their security was shit, but also because he was trying to stall for time, so that Nile and Booker could get in and out without any issues. “You really shouldn’t have picked white walls you know, white stains so easily–”

He gets another backhand for his efforts, and the man in front of him actually growls. He goes back to pawing through Joe’s wallet, and Joe can feel his heart stop when the man pulls out Joe’s drawing of Nicky. 

The man looks at it, and it’s clear he doesn’t know what to think at first. He studies the drawing, and Joe can feel sparks of anger igniting in his chest, although he tries not to show it. The man suddenly laughs, and it’s a cruel, mocking laugh. He shoves the drawing at one of the other men before turning back to Joe, a cruel smirk on his face. 

“How cute,” he sneers. “Mr. Jones keeps a picture of his boyfriend in his wallet.” The man spits on the ground at Joe’s feet. “God, that’s disgusting.”

Anger clouds Joe’s vision, bubbling up in his chest like rising magma before bursting forth from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Boyfriend? Boyfriend? Nicolo is not my boyfriend,” he spits, fire burning in his eyes. “You are a narrow-minded, childish, little man. Nicolo means more to me than all the stars in the sky. He has been my light, my heart, for over nine hundred years, and he will continue to be my light and my heart for nine hundred more. I have fought a thousand battles by his side, I have gone to war to protect him just as he has for me. There will always be those who try to separate us, those who cannot possibly understand the depth of my love for that man, and yet,” he pauses, a dark smirk on his face as some of the men step back in fear. “Those who try always end up dead. No, Nicolo is not my boyfriend. He’s all and he’s more.”

***

Nicky was in the middle of dismantling his rifle when he felt it. It didn’t even take him a moment before he recognized the feeling. It was the feeling he always got whenever Joe would make grand declarations of love, which, admittedly, happened quite often. While Nicky was more reserved when it came to lyrical speeches, Joe had no such qualms, and would gladly shout to the heavens–and had done so, multiple times–about his love for Nicky. 

Just as he was reaching for his phone to call Copley–because clearly something had to be wrong if Joe was waxing poetic about Nicky when Nicky wasn’t even in the same building–the phone buzzed.

Nicky didn’t even have time to greet Copley before the man was launching into an explanation. “Nicky, I’m sorry, there were too many guards, Joe’s been captured. They’re holding him somewhere in the building, but I don’t have eyes inside.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

Sending a quick message to Nile and Booker, informing them of what happened, Nicky finished packing up his gear quickly, leaving his spot on the roof and descending the fire escape as fast–and safely, he’d be no good to Joe if he executed a swan dive off the fifth story–as possible.

***

Joe could feel his mouth filling with blood, so he leaned forward and spat some on the ground. Apparently the older man hadn’t been too pleased with being insulted, and he ordered his men to get answers out of Joe, while he watched. 

The beating, while not one of the worst he’d experienced, had not been pleasant. Thankfully, the men hadn’t seemed to realize Joe was slowly healing from their attacks, but sooner or later they would get suspicious. He hoped one of the others would get here before that happened, he really didn’t like dying alone.

He’d just been punched repeatedly in the stomach when the man doing said punching stopped. Joe was confused, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about a reprieve. 

“What?” Barked the older man, pushing himself off the wall and stalking forward. “What is it?” The younger man shook his head, looking around. 

“Did anyone else–?” 

He cuts off when a loud bang sounds from outside the door. All of the men turn to look at the door, missing as a smile spreads across Joe’s bloody lips. Another bang sounds, louder than before, closer than before, and some of the men jump.

“What do you think it is?” One of them whispers, and before anyone can answer, something heavy slams into the bolted door from the outside. The whole door seems to shake in it’s frame, and it’s only made worse by the sudden scream of pain. 

There’s a sudden onslaught of noise, bangs, screams, gunshots, and crashes and–was that a cat screeching? The men all back away slowly from the door, hands on their weapons, but nothing could have prepared them for the way the door was blasted off its hinges, flying into the room and taking out two of the men. 

There’s a sudden burst of gunfire, taking out three more of the men before they can react. Watching their companions fall around them, the remaining four men all aim for the door, shooting wildly at a target they can’t even see. The older man, the leader, unlocks Joe’s cuffs only to pull him upright, pressing a knife against his neck, using Joe’s body as a human shield.

Joe rolls his eyes. If only this man knew how ineffective Joe would be at being a human shield. He watches with interest as the men stop firing, only for a knife to fly through the air and embed itself in one of the guard’s skulls. The others start firing again, but even though it's three against one, they’re no match for a furious Nicolo di Genova. Bursting into the room in a flurry of movement, Joe watches, fascinated–and more than a little turned on–as Nicky becomes a whirlwind, attacking violently with his longsword, cutting down the three men–with violent efficiency–who stand between him and Joe. 

The older man presses his blade tighter against Joe’s neck, but Nicky doesn’t even blink. Joe stomps on the man’s foot, and Nicky puts a bullet in his brain, quick as you please. The knife cuts Joe as he moves, but it’s certainly not life-threatening, so he’s unconcerned. 

Joe looked around the room, taking in the blood and guts and gore that decorate the white walls and floor and ceiling. “I told them that white was a bad choice, blood stands out far too much–” Nicky strides across the room, and kisses Joe hard, before he can get another word out. Joe grasps Nicky’s face with his blood covered hands, bringing him even closer, moaning as his beloved steals the breath from his lungs. 

Nicky pulls away, but only just, his forehead resting against Joe’s. “Yusuf, amore mio, are you badly hurt?” His eyes rove over Joe’s face, checking for any and all injuries.

“No, habibi,” Joe sighs. “The marks those men left are quickly fading. I am alright.” Nicky kisses Joe again, uncaring of the fact that Joe’s lips still taste of blood. 

They stand there for longer than they probably should, and when they finally part, Joe asks the question that had been pestering him since he first became aware of Nicky’s arrival. “How did you know so quickly, Nicolo? They’ve had me for less than an hour.”

The look on Nicky’s face is one of fond exasperation, one that Joe has been privy to many, many times. “You were being incurably romantic again, weren’t you?” 

Joe grins, his eyes shining as he looks at his love. “They dared insult you in my presence, hayati. Besides, you love it.”

Nicky sighs. “I do.”

Joe cups his face once more and kisses him, pouring nine hundred years of love and affection and desire into the kiss. He would defend his Nicolo to the ends of the earth, against anyone and anything that dared try to come between them. 

***

“I do not understand, Nile. Why do you keep referring to me as a cross between a human and an arachnid?”

“You have spidey sense Nicky, of course I’m going to call you Spiderman! Except instead of sensing danger, you sense whenever Joe’s delivering a love speech worthy of Shakespeare!”

“Hey! Do not compare me to that jumped-up English playwright–”

“Shut up, Joe!”

[wordsablaze]

13~ masked by my pride

tell me your problems (i’ll chase them away) Internal scars can be difficult to deal with but Eskel vows to heal any that Jaskier is weighed down by if it’s the last thing he does…

A/N: sorry it’s been a month but guess which dorks tried to borrow the braincell from scorpion ??

@random-nerd-3 @betaray-jones @w-s-kibela @in-love-with-writing002 @screaming-flapjacks @havenoffandoms @lasaga666 @mayastormborn @alllthequeenshorses

previous chapter

-

“You’re Jaskier the bard, aren’t you?” someone asks as soon as they get to Piana.

Jaskier doesn’t miss a beat before he nods, smiling politely. “That would be me, yes, lucky for you. Who’s asking?”

Eskel moves to go stable Scorpion but even as the stranger starts talking, Jaskier squeezes and tugs on Eskel’s hand just enough to stop him from going anywhere. He could easily pull out of the bard’s hold but he finds that he doesn’t want to so he just waits, biting back his smile lest he scares the stranger off.

There is no logical reason - or any other kind of reason, for that matter - as to why he’s become addicted to the feel of the bard’s fingers interlaced with his own and yet, he’s already resigned himself to that fate. And he’s not complaining.

“-nd should I report back a confirmation?” the man asks.

“Of course, it would be rude of me to refuse such a gracious offer,” Jaskier replies smoothly, and Eskel wishes he hadn’t zoned out of the conversation.

It’s not until they’re seated in the corner of a tavern that Jaskier relaxes, leaning into Eskel’s shoulder and slumping in his seat.

“Is something wrong?” Eskel asks, now trying to hold himself as still as possible so he doesn’t jostle Jaskier; he’s used to blending into the background but this feels different, like something precious.

“Of course not,” Jaskier replies immediately and, much to Eskel’s dismay, straightens up and pulls himself to his feet.

Eskel definitely does not sound at all forlorn as he asks, “Where are you going?”

Jaskier cocks his head to the right and holds his lute up with a small smirk. “We’re in a tavern, darling, and I’m a bard. The situation speaks for itself, I think.”

He’s bounding towards the man who looks like he’s in charge before Eskel can point out that he should probably take care of his own stomach before everyone else’s ears, but he’s not sure if that’s specifically a Jaskier thing or a general bard thing so he lets it go for the moment.

Obviously, he regrets it when Jaskier starts singing about Eskel heroically saving the continent from sirens, but he thinks even that’s growing on him already. And either way, watching Jaskier move through a room is a rewarding experience in itself, not that he’s incapable of taking his eyes off the bard, what an absurd situation that would be.

“Sing the other one! With the other witcher!”

Jaskier pauses, having just finished a song about pirates or something, and his eyes flicker to Eskel before he nods, launching into toss a coin with an easy smile. Eskel tries not to dwell on wanting to punch the man who’d requested the song - it has benefited them all, after all - and instead wonders how long it’ll take for Lambert to complain he’s being left out.

The second time Jaskier leans into Eskel’s shoulder is almost equally as precious. “How long before you need to set off again?” he asks as he tucks his lute back into its case.

Eskel frowns, pushing one of the two drinks that’d been set down on their table towards him. “We’ve been travelling all day, Jaskier.”

Jaskier nods but doesn’t move, clearing his throat after taking several large gulps and wincing. “You said you had somewhere to be.”

“There’s no hurry,” Eskel says, and he’s not even lying just to be polite; his path is generally north towards the keep but there’s still far too much time before winter sets in to be hurrying. Besides, he has little motivation for cold treks when he can feel Jaskier’s warm breath brushing against him.

“Well, in that case: fish.”

It takes Eskel a moment to realise that’s not some sort of cursing and instead a reference to food, which Jaskier immediately goes to find, leaving Eskel clutching a lute. It’s quite frankly just ridiculous how many times Jaskier gets away with slipping off somewhere in such a short space of time.

“Smells nice,” Eskel says honestly as Jaskier returns with two plates.

The bard smirks at him. “What, me or the fish?”

That takes Eskel a second to recover from. He shrugs. “Good point, could be either.”

Jaskier elbows him in faux offence as he settles yet again, but neither of them say anything more until their plates are empty. Not even two seconds pass before Jaskier yawns so hard that his eyes water.

Eskel laughs quietly. “We should head to the inn.”

“Oh but that would require moving,” Jaskier complains.

It was probably meant to be a humorous comment but Eskel can’t help frowning, wondering why Jaskier hadn’t asked for another break or something during their journey if he’d been getting so tired, not to mention why he’d decided performing was a good idea if he was ready to fall asleep.

“Stop that or I’ll actually write a ballad about the frowning witcher’s adventures,” Jaskier grumbles, poking his arm.

Eskel’s frown fades naturally as he smiles. “I thought you said the metaphors would be too hard?”

At that, Jaskier sits up and squints at him for a moment. “So you were listening after all, then. Is that a challenge, darling?”

“Maybe when your eyes aren’t drooping,” Eskel suggests, very much hoping Jaskier forgets about the whole conversation by tomorrow.

“My eyes are not drooping!” Jaskier argues, but the fact that he’s slumped against Eskel again doesn’t seem to do him any favours.

Eskel hums. “As you say, bardling.”

Jaskier pulls himself upright to prove his point, his hands on his hips as he raises an eyebrow. “See?”

Grabbing Jaskier’s lute as he stands, Eskel nods. “I see. Shall we head to the inn then?”

Jaskier’s mouth drops open as he glances between their now empty seats and Eskel. “You- Did you just- Did you just trick me into…?”

Eskel snorts, neither denying nor confirming the accusation. Thankfully, the inn isn’t far and they manage to get there with no problems, though that’s possibly because their hands are linked so even if Jaskier had started to wobble, nothing major could have happened anyway.

“We humbly request one of your fine rooms, if you will!” Jaskier beams at the innkeeper, a woman who looks a little sceptical at first but quickly softens as she looks over them properly.

“Just the one?” She asks.

Jaskier nods emphatically. “Just the one! No need to wear out the bedrolls, right?” he asks, more for Eskel’s benefit than the innkeeper’s, really.

“Right... Up the stairs, third door on the right,” the innkeeper says, handing him the key and nodding at Eskel with a hint of a smile, to which he nods back gratefully.

Jaskier pulls him along and yawns loudly as they find their room, finally letting go of his hand and flopping back onto the bed with his arms spread out. He’s only managed another quieter yawn by the time Eskel gets himself out of his armour and somehow, that’s equally as sad as it is endearing.

“Jaskier, you need to take your boots off at least,” Eskel whispers, trying his best not to laugh.

Jaskier looks up at him as if he’s just declared that lutes are outlawed. “Are you sure?”

Praying that he doesn’t take it the wrong way, Eskel sighs and goes to tug Jaskier’s boots off himself. He tenses up initially but when he realises what’s happening, he just laughs and awkwardly shrugs his doublet off to contribute.

“If you wanted to take my clothes off, you could’ve just asked,” he drawls, but then promptly yawns again.

“Unfortunately, I don’t speak yawn,” Eskel replies, and this time he does laugh, nudging Jaskier so they can both settle properly.

Jaskier vaguely kicks at him in response - assaulting only the air, of course - before Eskel feels arms around him. It takes a moment to relax his muscles and by the time he’s comfortable with the idea of Jaskier once again acting as a very strange but far from unpleasant blanket of sorts, said bard has already drifted off. Surprisingly, he finds himself doing the same.

“Eskel?”

He jolts awake immediately, his grip instinctively tightening on his weapon. Except it’s not a weapon he’s holding, it’s someone’s waist. Jaskier gasps sharply and Eskel all but flings himself out of the bed, leaning heavily on the closest wall as he clenches his fists and breathes slowly.

“Alright so perhaps waking you up with your name isn’t such a good idea,” Jaskier says eventually.

“I’m usually a light sleeper,” Eskel replies, beyond relieved that Jaskier seems to be amused rather than scared - he’s not sure what he’d do if Jaskier were to be scared of him.

Jaskier nods. “Right. Except you weren’t just then. Well, no matter, but if I don’t get to the privy in the next two minutes, we definitely will have a matter.”

Eskel doesn’t realise he’s kind of laughing until their room door swings shut. And even though Jaskier had taken absolutely no offence, he can’t help but feel embarrassed. So much so that he makes sure to slip out of their room just as Jaskier returns, freshening up before heading to the stables instead of opting for breakfast.

“Hey, girl,” he mumbles to Scorpion, who all but huffs impatiently when she finds his hands to be empty. “Sorry, I was in a rush,” he adds.

He opens his mouth to explain but she seems to be having none of it, stomping on his feet hard enough for it to hurt. He’s only just able to sidestep to avoid her doing the same thing twice, cursing under his breath. “You don’t need to break my toes to stop us from leaving,” he mutters angrily.

“You were leaving?”

Oh no.

Eskel turns on the spot even as the air fills with smoke and ash. Not literally of course, but it may as well be with how horribly strong the scent of distress is.

“Jaskier, I was just-” Eskel starts.

Jaskier shakes his head, exhaling slowly. “I don’t want to- Could you just answer the question? Please? Were you leaving?”

“No,” Eskel replies immediately. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t do that. And nor would Scorpion, it seems.”

Warm, fresh bread dilutes the smoky distress in the air and Eskel sighs with relief; apparently Jaskier believes him.

“Is everything okay?” Jaskier asks eventually, as if the answer to that doesn’t depend on his own emotions rather than whatever Eskel is thinking.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Eskel says honestly, “I just needed a minute.”

Jaskier nods. “I can give you a whole day, actually. How does meeting back at the inn tonight sound? Yes? Great, see you then!”

For all the good that enhanced senses do, Eskel wishes they came with enhanced processing because he’s getting tired of being too slow to register the bard’s words before it’s almost too late. Almost.

“Jaskier, wait!”

He’s not fast enough to stop Jaskier leaving the stables but thankfully the bard doesn’t disappear down some alley this time and he manages to end up in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. When Jaskier doesn’t say anything, biting his lip, Eskel sighs. “I don’t know what you’re thinking but it’s probably wrong. I simply… felt bad.”

“For what?” Jaskier asks softly, frowning.

Eskel clears his throat. “For this morning.”

Jaskier’s frown deepens. “What happened this morning? Did you break something or-” he gasps, “-did you hurt my lute?”

Eskel shakes his head, thoroughly confused. “Of course not! I- Why would I do that?”

With a shrug, Jaskier pinches the bridge of his nose. “What are you all guilty about then? We’ve not even been awake for an hour yet, what else could you possibly have done?”

“When you woke me up, I- I thought I might’ve hurt you?”

Jaskier blinks. And blinks again. He opens his mouth to say something only to close it again, then laughs. “Seriously? Oh, darling, that was nothing! It felt like getting hugged by an over-enthusiastic child, far from painful and definitely not something to fret your handsome self over!”

Eskel sighs, inwardly cursing himself for somehow having acted strangely enough to be compared to an over-enthusiastic child, and in an attempt to stop himself from genuinely attempting to flee, focuses back on something else that had bothered him.

“What did you mean by being able to give me a day?” he asks.

Jaskier offers him a sheepish smile. “That man yesterday? Well, I may have promised the Alderman I’d play for him again and then uh, forgotten? Turns out he didn’t forget and he’s ever so nicely offering to overlook the fact that it’s been several years if I perform today. Nothing important but it happens to be someone or the other’s name day and I usually attend those alone so…”

Oh. Of course very few people would want a witcher at their name day and even if they did, they wouldn’t want him; it’s not like scaring the children is ever part of the event.

“Well, I would hate to interfere,” he says after a pause.

Jaskier frowns again, seemingly considering something but only nodding in response. “Yes, there’s really no need. I’ll be done with it all by dinner and if you wouldn’t mind staying another night, we can set off tomorrow?”

Eskel smiles. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Marvellous! Until then, my dear witcher!” Jaskier smiles brightly and this time, does slip past him, fleetingly squeezing his hand as he goes.

Never has he had such a bewildering conversation before breakfast. He thinks he can maybe understand why Geralt had initially seemed averse to travelling with a bard but no, he still cannot comprehend how all the warmth and kindness wouldn’t be seen as worth any amount of confusion.

He appears to have been blindsided by said warmth and kindness though, because it takes him a stupidly long time to remember that he’s capable of spending the day doing something other than just waiting for Jaskier. Capable and very much required to, in fact.

It seems he’s spending his day with the local drowner then.

-

i'm beginning to suspect this fic is merely a myriad of clichés hiding in a trenchcoat but we're too far in to question it,,, my utmost appreciation to anyone who's somehow still sticking around <333

-

thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher sideblog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 01187: Lux Bonteri 

"...and if you roll them at the right speed, they'll slip through the shields and explode next to the droid itself, disabling the guns and allowing you to pass," General Skywalker finished, glancing around the group of rebels to check for their understanding.

Kix eyed the assorted group as well. When he had been tapped to join the Jedi and the captain on a trip to help an underground resistance movement train to fight the Separatists, he hadn't been impressed at the idea. After finding out that one of the leaders - a kid named Bonteri - had a past with Commander Tano, he was even less thrilled to be there.

Admittedly, he had been surprised by the group. The fighters were minimally trained, but in decent shape, medically-speaking. Kix had expected to find festering injuries and critical malnourishment. Instead, he found mild dehydration and an honest, stars-blessed splinter.

A splinter.

This resistance group may have been better-organized than others the 501st had run into in the past, but they weren't exactly what Kix would have expected from a rough-and-tumble encampment in the woods.

Saw Gerrera would be trouble. Kix had known it the first time he interacted with the young man, and he could tell that Rex thought the same. Saw was passionate and angry, traits that would not help him against the Seppies. In fact, they were more likely to get him killed, along with every other member of the encampment… including Saw's sister Steela.

In contrast, Steela Gerrera was promising. She was a perfect counterpart to her emotion-driven brother and would make a good leader for the small group - a larger group, even, later on. She was level-headed and practical, eager to learn and wise beyond her years. Kix and Rex had both been impressed by the young woman, as had the Jedi. Well, two of the Jedi. The final member of their party had been too busy worrying about Steela's major weakness.

Lux Bonteri.

Kix didn't get it. He was no expert in what teenage girls found attractive, but it seemed like a bit much for both Steela Gerrera and Commander Tano to be fascinated by the boy. Admittedly, it seemed like the attention was almost a bit much for Lux, too. Still, he appeared to enjoy the idea that two females were so interested in him and did what he could to juggle their feelings. One minute, he would flirt shamelessly with Steela, who seemed to welcome his efforts. The next, however, he would stand far too close to Commander Tano and murmur things that her sensitive montrals could easily have heard from a far greater distance. The boy was honestly lucky that some of the more... overprotective members of the 501st had not come along to Onderon, or Kix would have had some real injuries to treat.

Despite his own confusion and disgust, the situation was entertaining enough, though Kix was at least tactful enough to avoid talking about it around the Commander. She seemed displeased by the way things were going and he couldn't blame her. He was displeased, too. Kix was of the opinion that the GAR and three of its best Jedi had more important things to do than babysit a fledgling grassroots rebellion, and a teenage love triangle did nothing to improve the situation.

"Ouch!"

It was the call to action for medics everywhere, and Kix was no exception. In a moment, he had grabbed his medic's bag and went to find the source of the pained sound. It turned out to be none other than Lux Bonteri, who had managed to deeply scratch his forearm while trying to roll a dummy det through the droideka's shield.

The kid had pressed a hand against the scratch, holding back the blood that was trying to seep from the small wound. Other members of the rebel band clustered around, asking nonsensical questions and generally being in the way. Steela and Commander Tano seemed the most concerned, but Kix definitely saw General Skywalker roll his eyes.

"All right, folks, please move so I can treat him," Kix said impatiently.

"Will he be okay?" Steela asked.

Kix snorted. "He has a scratch on the arm. Yeah, he'll be good to go in about three minutes, if you can clear the crowd."

Steela nodded, raising her voice. "Back to training, everyone! Lux is going to be fine."

With a jerk of his head, Kix indicated for Lux to follow him to a more secluded area, a short distance away from the crowd. From what he had seen so far, the small group of rebels needed all the practice they could manage. Bonteri followed willingly enough, sitting on a fallen tree trunk and extending the arm so that Kix could clearly see the injury.

It was a long cut, deeper than Kix would have expected, but still nowhere close to anything vital. The real danger was infection, especially in a forest, running around in unsanitary conditions, and this far from medical care. It would have to be cleaned, medication applied, and the wound wrapped before Bonteri could keep training with the other members of the rebel force.

"Don't worry, kid," he soothed automatically. "We'll have you patched up and back in action in no time."

"I'm not a kid," Lux told him haughtily. When Kix didn't bother responding, he sighed. "Do you think Ahsoka saw that?"

"I'm sure she did," Kix said evenly. "She was standing a foot and a half away from you and has full use of her sight."

Lux groaned. "Fantastic."

Kix shook his head, mostly to hide a smirk. "What does it matter what Commander Tano saw or didn't see?"

"Please," Lux scoffed. "You have full use of your sight too, correct?"

"I don't know what you're implying, Bonteri," Kix said, not liking the boy's tone. Before Bonteri could unleash another half-insulting comment, Kix added sharply, "And if you're saying what I think you are, I'll remind you that she's my commanding officer and I have no problem letting this scrape heal the old-fashioned way."

"It's just…" Lux trailed off, suddenly looking younger than ever. "She's so beautiful, and strong, and brave. I want her to think well of me."

"I'm sure she does," Kix said, trying to sound encouraging. Kriff, he didn't remember being this young.

"She doesn't think well enough to care for me," Lux said, reminding Kix of a pouting child. "Not the way I do for her."

Kix laughed before he could stop himself. "She's a Jedi. She took vows not to care for anyone, not the way you're talking about."

"And I took vows to uphold the Separatist cause," Lux countered. "I left them behind after I learned new information."

This time, Kix laughed on purpose. "You think attraction is new information? Kid, sex has been around longer than any of us. That's why we are around - at least, those of us who weren't born in a tube."

Lux didn't find that nearly as funny as Kix did, so the medic filed it away as something he should tell his vode and moved on. "Ahsoka knew attraction and temptation would be part of her life, but she thinks the good she does as a Jedi is more important than her own feelings."

"Has she spoken with you about this?" Lux asked, looking floored by the possibility that Commander Tano wouldn't change the entire course of her life for sake of a crush.

Kix sighed. He definitely had never been this young. "No, but she doesn't have to. You can see her dedication in everything she does."

"You can," Lux agreed, looking past Kix with a slight smile on his face. Kix turned to see Commander Tano juggling a handful of dummy thermal dets to amuse Saw, using the Force to launch them high into the air before letting them drop into her waiting hands. General Skywalker and Captain Rex watched the process with patronizing amusement while General Kenobi was thankfully occupied in another section of the camp. Kix was only surprised that General Skywalker wasn't taking part in the theatrics.

"I've heard Jedi can have physical relationships," Lux said slowly. "They just can't get attached."

"Done a lot of research into Jedi relationships, have you?" Kix asked acidly, then shook his head. "I'm not about to tell you - or my commanding officer - what you can and can't do, but Commander Tano isn't the type who can easily separate emotions from actions. By pushing this - by pushing her - all you're doing is making her choices more difficult. Remember that when you decide how to act with her from here on out."

"I understand," Lux agreed. From the solemn look in his eyes, Kix actually believed that he did.

"Good," he said with a sharp nod, patting the neatly-wrapped bandage on Lux's forearm. "You're good to go. Keep it clean and dry as long as you can manage. With any luck, I think you'll be able to keep the arm."

"Thank you, Kix," Lux said, giving a deep nod. "For all of it."

"No problem, kid. Try putting a bit of spin on the thermal det next time. That can help it get through the rollie's shields."

Bonteri walked back toward the group as Kix packed the unused supplies back up so he could be ready for the next medical crisis. There would definitely be one before they left, especially if the captain or either of the generals had heard much of the conversation between Kix and his patient.

---

A/N - sorry for the tiny gif! I couldn’t find a larger version, but I think this one really summarized Lux and Ahsoka’s friendship. Thank you for reading! Please feel free to reblog so my work can spread!

[funkyhanji]

Nuvole Bianche [English | BNHA]

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (@Horikoshi Kohei) Character(s): Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku Pairing(s): BakuDeku Rating: E Word count: 3298 CWs: Fantasy AU, Established Relationship, Snowed In, Fluff and Smut, Sex, Quirks as Magic, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Barebacking, Dorks in Love, Bottom Izuku

Summary: - «Can't help it, Deku,» Katsuki says. There's the hint of a teasing tone in his voice, as if to prove the statement. «You're stupidly cute.» His spouse-to-be blushes yet his lips give way to the small grin he'd been fighting back. «… And you're stupidly handsome, Kacchan,» he whispers like it's a secret he's kept hidden all this time. -

Katsuki wills a shiver down as he steps past the cave's open entrance, tracking snow at his heels. The magic barrier they put up is thankfully holding steady to keep the cold outside; it's a flimsy solace though. His boots, socks and heavy breeches are completely soaked through; his double wool-lined, crimson cloak drags at his shoulders with the added weight of melting water. His hair sags, the blond spikes limp and frosted over.

He fucking hates winter.

He throws a glare at the inky darkness that's crept upon the mountainside in the last hour; it's barely sunset, technically, but it might as well be the dead of night already with how pitch black the world outside is. If only the weather hadn't gotten so bad so quickly, they would've been home by now. In front of a nice hearth — but alas, after so many months away from Musutafu, it seems Katsuki had forgotten how swiftly a cold but pleasant winter day could turn into a nightmarish snowstorm.

Why did we even decide to come up here?! Katsuki gripes internally, fumbling to take off his frozen leather gloves with numb hands. Right. To get away from annoying people.

He shouldn't have sent Zero up ahead to the castle in favor of hiking back down the mountain by foot. He sighs, curses as his grip on the gloves slips. Then again, the cave isn't big enough for a full grown dragon and two people, so maybe it's better this way.

A faint giggle reaches his ears, compelling Katsuki to look up and pause his struggle.

Green eyes, bright with flames gently dancing in their depths, meet his from across the stone floor. Izuku's covering his mouth with his fist, but Katsuki knows he's smiling by the way his cheeks are raised. The smattering of freckles decorating Izuku's face appear and disappear with the flickering of the fire, almost as if they're playing hide and seek — they'd never win: Katsuki has memorized each and every one —.

«How's it looking out there, Kacchan?» Izuku asks, lowering his hand so Katsuki can see the curve of his lips. He waves Katsuki over; a silent offer to help him remove his uncomfortable gear. «The wind is really strong. I can hear it through the barrier...»

Katsuki scoffs. «No shit,» he says, nearing the fire. «A gust of that motherfucking wind almost threw me off the cliff-side.» Izuku gasps, immediately launching into a worried rant; wide-eyed stare flying over Katsuki's form for any possible injury. «'M fine, Deku. Takes more than this to do me in.»

«Oh, I know, Kacchan,» Izuku laughs, at ease when Katsuki smirks his way.

Katsuki takes a seat next to Izuku, their shoulders and knees brushing as they stare into the flames in silence for a heartbeat. Then Izuku shifts, reaching out to take a hold of his hands and carefully pulling on the iced-over gloves. Katsuki turns to face him, letting the other slip the leather off one finger at a time, ever-so mindful of not using too much strength, as though Katsuki would care if he ripped the gloves.

«Whatever,» he mutters under his breath. He doesn't miss the grin on Izuku's face at that. «And the snow blocked the pass, so we're stuck in here 'till tomorrow anyway.»

«That's too bad.» Izuku looks up at him after removing the gloves and placing them near the fire to defrost. «Everyone was so excited about the pre-wedding feast! We're going to miss it...»

«That was the whole point of hiking the mountain, Deku.»

«Oh, come on, Kacchan! They're here for us, you know…!»

Katsuki rolls his eyes, idly rubbing his stiff hands together to rid them of the chill. «Doesn't mean I have to suffer through it-» he flexes his fingers, cringing when his knuckles pop with a loud crack- «not tonight at least. Tomorrow I'll have no goddamn choice.»

Wordlessly, Izuku grasps his left hand in his. He caresses his thumbs along the cold skin, slow and meticulous. He kneads the pads of his fingers into Katsuki's palm, then moves to Katsuki's own digits, massaging them from knuckle to nail; he does it once, twice, three times, over and over, until the numbness is replaced by pins and needles. Until feeling returns and Katsuki's hand is warm again. Izuku repeats the same process with his right hand.

«How's that? Better?» Izuku asks with a smile which looks even softer than usual. It makes Katsuki's heart speed up.

With the regained sensitivity, Katsuki switches now to grasp the wrist of his consort-to-be, tugging him forward. The surprised sound Izuku makes is cut off as their mouths meet in a kiss; the touch is firm but chaste, purely motivated by a simple need, a subconscious call resonating deep within Katsuki's bones telling him to be closer to Izuku. He feels a hand glide up his other arm, up, up to his neck and his jaw before it buries itself into his hair.

Or tries to.

Green eyes blink open, and in the next second Izuku's pulling back with a crease between his brows. His hand flexes a little, where it rests near Katsuki's ear, and a faint crunching can be heard coming from the hair.

«Storm froze it,» Katsuki supplies with a shrug.

«Oh...»

Izuku takes a better look at him then.

Katsuki can see that attentive gaze picking up on the slight tremble in his frame; the hunch to his shoulders and the way he's leaning toward the fire more than he would usually do — with Katsuki's temperature always running higher than most people's due to his fire-related magic, he's not one to crowd in front of direct heat sources —. He can see the furrow deepen when shining emeralds take notice of the layer of frost whitening and weighing down his clothes.

«Oh, Kacchan, sorry!» Izuku says, now concerned. Katsuki's about to retort that he's fine, but the other keeps going. «You walked around in the snow longer than me, you must be freezing! And here I was, warming up in front of the fire…! I should've went with you after all... we need to, ah, get you out of these icy clothes! Yeah!»

Izuku is fussing over Katsuki as soon as he stops talking.

He makes quick work of taking off the soaked boots and socks, placing them behind him in front of the fire pit. He hovers in Katsuki's personal space, un-clasping his cloak and sliding it off, casting a spell to have it float near the flames to dry — it's a simple incantation he'd been taught by his friend, Ochako, a gravity-specialized mage —. Izuku's scarred hands move from Katsuki's shoulders to his arms, struggling to tug the stiff leather braces down. He almost falls back on his ass when the first one dislodges from his elbow; the squeak he makes too endearing for Katsuki to repress a chuckle.

«Mean,» Izuku mutters, retaking his previous position just within the circle of Katsuki's legs.

There's a wee frown wrinkling his dark green eyebrows.

Katsuki lets Izuku take off his heavy woolen shirt, complying to the silent request to lift his arms. He waits for the other to lay it down on the stone next to the boots; he waits for Izuku to face him again. He's stubbornly trying to keep up his upset demeanor, but it's obvious he's failing from the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

«Can't help it, Deku,» Katsuki says. There's the hint of a teasing tone in his voice, as if to prove the statement. «You're stupidly cute.»

His spouse-to-be blushes yet his lips give way to the small grin he'd been fighting back. «… And you're stupidly handsome, Kacchan,» he whispers like it's a secret he's kept hidden all this time.

Katsuki finds warmth creeping onto his ears and high cheekbones. He's by no means unused to such compliments — he's been showered in praise since a young age, whether he worked hard to deserve it or not —, though he's discovered, with the passing of the years, that receiving them from Izuku never stopped his stomach from somersaulting.

He wonders if the Paladin-in-training is aware of the effect he has on him.

Izuku's palm comes to rest on his chest, above his heart, and Katsuki thinks, maybe he does know.

There's a certain reverence in the way Izuku brushes his hand over his skin, in the way he leans forward to place a kiss in that same spot. Soft, gentle. Katsuki pretends for a moment that the shiver running up his spine is the cold seeped into his limbs from his soaked clothes.

He blinks, and it feels like he's five again.

The first time he lay eyes on Izuku, his whole world had tilted on its axis the second those forest-green irises met his, full of wonder and awe. Katsuki remembers the wide-eyed stare and the cautious steps the shorter boy had taken, getting closer to him with a trembling hand extended toward his newly-pierced ears.

«Do they hurt…?» Izuku had asked, not quite touching him but hovering near one of the ruby studs.

Katsuki had been taken aback by the ethereal beauty of the creature before him; had been rendered speechless, forgetting every lecture on etiquette his parents had been trying to drill into his skull.

He'd shaken his head, grumbling. «Of course not, stupid! I'm the future King, this 's nothin'!»

Izuku had «oooh»ed and smiled, bright and full of admiration. «You're really amazing!» he'd said, cheeks flushed. «I'm Izuku! My mom and I will be living here from now on, I hope we'll be friends!»

Katsuki blinks again, coming back to the present to Izuku moving to press a peck a little higher—his green curls tickling Katsuki's chin—and higher still, one over his jaw, one below his ear.

«Kacchan,» he whispers, no more than a breath exhaled by unconscious reflex. «Kacchan.»

He doesn't have to repeat it a third time.

Katsuki's cups Izuku's face in his hands, brushes their noses together, their lips. The contact is lighter than before yet the sparks it creates are stronger, the intent behind it clear. He bridges the non-existent gap a second time, their mouths parting at the same time; tongues sliding together, slow and passionate, the kiss gaining a more intense quality.

The heat between them gradually growing with it.

Katsuki's free arm wraps around Izuku's waist, bringing him flush to his body. His palm skims the warm skin under his consort-to-be's shirt, settling at the hip and starting up a leisurely rocking. Izuku gasps into his mouth, a short moan breathed in and licked up by Katsuki's tongue. Green eyes crack open a slit to stare into crimson ones, the embers of desire coming to life inside both of them.

«Deku,» Katsuki grunts, husky and hungry.

Izuku racks his blunt nails over his nipples, breaking the kiss to bow his head and run his tongue over them, one at a time; he nips and suckles at them, teases the hardened nubs with his teeth. Izuku spurs himself on with his own whines. His hands squeeze and grope Katsuki's biceps, his shoulders, his nape; they successfully bury in blond hair. Izuku's neck bares for Katsuki — a clear invite to claim —, his jugular jumping with the wild rhythm of his heartbeat under Katsuki's kiss-swollen lips. Izuku's sighs reverberating deep within his bones as Katsuki licks a wet strip up the unblemished skin to his ears.

Izuku's hips jerk sharply when he bites the lobe, the movement slotting their erections together just right, both groaning at the friction. The flimsy barrier of their undergarments and breeches doing little to hide the growing need between them.

«Wanna fuck you so bad, Deku,» Katsuki says, voice gravely and fingers digging into the meat of his consort-to-be's rear. He knows they can't; not right now, without the necessary equipment. It doesn't stop him from craving though. «Wanna feel you around my cock.»

«Yes, Kacchan,» Izuku answers. He arches against his broader chest, his scarred hands quiver slightly as they snake down Katsuki's stomach, fumbling blindingly to undo the belt and string of the damp cotton bottoms. «Please.»

Katsuki's about to tell him it won't be doable tonight, then he notices Izuku gesturing vaguely, feels the faint hum of his innate magic at work. From the corner of his vision, he sees a small terracotta vase teetering in the air toward them. A blond eyebrow quirks in question; his stare lifts from where he's been busy playfully gnawing at a collarbone, until it meets Izuku's blushing face and hazy eyes.

He laughs, delighted and cocky.

«Someone was expecting something ta happen tonight, mh?» he teases, slapping an ass-cheek and enjoying the squeak he gets in return. «Didn't look too sad to be snowed-in-» he snatches the pot before Izuku's control slips and makes it crash on the stone floor- «this why?»

Izuku mumbles, embarrassed and unintelligible.

«Hey, I'm not complaining Deku,» Katsuki reassures, planting a chaste kiss on the other's pouting lips.

«Kacchan, please...»

«Yeah...»

Together, they shift, raising on their knees so both Katsuki's breeches and Izuku's shirt can be discarded. Katsuki then guides Izuku backward, to lay onto the dried, forgotten, forest-green cape — a match to his own crimson one, the Bakugou family crest emblazoned on it in gold; a gift he'd given the other two years prior, when he'd officially proposed to him —. He takes care to cushion Izuku's head against the fur collar and crawls into his space.

He kisses him again, tongue slipping past willing lips to wetly glide alongside Izuku's own. Katsuki moves down the pliant body beneath him, nipping and sucking marks into creamy skin dotted with dark chocolate-brown freckles; tugging and flicking dusky-pink nipples.

Izuku's undergarments are slipped off with deft fingers while Katsuki distracts him with his mouth, blowing raspberries into his stomach and grinning as his breathless pants turn into breathless laughter. A shiver runs up Izuku's spine as the colder air hits his heated skin, and Katsuki's warm hands are there to chase it away. He smooths his palms down along toned legs as far as he can reach without moving from his spot, kneads his fingers into Izuku's thighs and sides, and up his torso.

Only when the bewitching body underneath him is quaking in need, does Katsuki finally pay attention to Izuku's cock. He's hard, flushed an inviting shade of dark pink and already leaking.

«Ya look delicious Deku,» he says, smirking as he lowers himself to lewdly lick a strip of saliva over the underside of Izuku's cock. One hand around the base, the other cupping his balls gently.

«Ka— Kacch… aahn…!»

Katsuki hums, lips enclosing the head, the tip of his tongue pressing into the slit and under the foreskin. He sucks lightly, pleased to hear the choked off gasp from Izuku. Katsuki swallows him down painstakingly slow, with almost-lazy bobs of his head and flicks of his tongue, barely-there strokes and caresses with his hands — he loves torturing the other like this, the sounds he can pry out of Izuku music to his ears —. He loves feeling him squirm and cry out.

Katsuki pulls off to take a breath, snatching the vase with the lotion in the meantime, popping the cork off and settling it next to them.

«H-hurry, Kacchan…» Izuku says, staring up at him with glazed eyes, the green overshadowed by dilated pupils.

Katsuki huffs, pretending to be irritated. «Impatient, are we?» He can't blame him though, his own dick is stiff and throbbing in his undergarments, longing to feel the other's heat surround him.

He dips two fingers into the pot; the transparent, viscous lotion coats his hand when he takes them out and spreads it over his palm. Soon after, he's teasing a circle around Izuku's entrance with a slick finger. Izuku whines, writhing on the cape as he tries to make the digit slip inside; when it does, he sighs such a delighted «yesss», it resounds even inside Katsuki's chest.

«Fuck, Izuku...» he groans, leaning in to sloppily kiss him while he works his finger deeper. «'S been a while, huh.»

«Yeah… ah!» Izuku nods, his hips rocking onto the hand between his thighs.

The wedding preparations have kept them both busy for the better part of last month — the constant ebb and flow of people coming in, to teach Izuku to dance; to choose decorations and food and music. Court meetings for foreign dignitaries, training —, leaving too little time and energy to enjoy their hard-earned intimacy with nothing but cuddling and simply sleeping together.

This snowstorm has been a nice opportunity to… catch up on that.

Katsuki is as quick yet thorough as he dares. Neither of them wants to cum without being connected, but they're also coiled too tight after so long; this round isn't going to last.

He's scissoring and spreading and curling three fingers inside Izuku for what feels like hours, rubbing grounding circles on his hip with his free hand. He kisses, sucks and nips at the expanse of skin at his disposal to add sensations at odd times. He brings Izuku to a dry orgasm; he's sobbing and quaking, straining to stroke his dripping cock but Katsuki restrains his wrists with his hand.

Only then does he take out his fingers.

«Ah… haa, Ka… Kacchan— shit, please— need you in-inside...»

Katsuki's answer is a low groan. His undergarments are tossed to the side hastily; he slicks up his cock, lotion mixing with his copious precum, and lines up to Izuku's ass. He drapes the other's legs around his waist, Izuku understanding the implicit prompt to link his ankles behind his back.

Katsuki pushes in, the glide easy and painless after the generous preparation and the slackness from Izuku's previous orgasm. He bottoms out with a rasping breath, his nerves aflame.

«F-fuck,» he stutters, biting his lower lip and scrunching eyes closed in concentration. «Won't last… long, De-Deku… Fuck— ya feel so good...»

«Y-you t-too Ka— nnh!— Kacchan!»

«Shit— 'm movin'...»

Katsuki takes a breath, bracing himself as he pulls out halfway before pressing back in. The pace he sets is swift; thrusts inelegant but precise, the angle good enough for him to brush Izuku's sweet spot just right. His hips snap back and forth. Izuku arches under him, meets his thrusts with his own wild ones, bucking onto the cock pounding into him with shudders and moans and calls of Katsuki's name.

The wet slap of skin on skin is loud and lewd, a perfect counterpoint to their mingled sounds and the crackling of the fire.

«S-shit— Izu… ku— nngh!»

Katsuki's movements falter. He throws his head back with a groan, eyes squeezed tight as he buries himself deep inside Izuku, filling him up spurt after spurt. In the haze of his climax, Katsuki languidly strokes Izuku to orgasm. He grins smugly through the rush of endorphin when the other cums without even trying to take matters into his own hand.

«Kacchan...» Izuku says a minute later, breath almost back to normal and snuggled into Katsuki's chest.

«Mmh?»

«You were really pent up, a lot came out… how am I going to clean up? We don't have enough water for a bath and-and you know it gets, uhm, uncomfortable to have se-semen up there for too long so— waah!»

Katsuki cuts him off by abruptly flipping him over, hands grabbing Izuku's sides and bending down to bite at a round ass cheek.

«I'll just eat my cum and your ass out then.»

«Wha— Kacchan, no! Wait a— ah!— Kacch… oh! Oh!»

Katsuki laughs a little meanly. «You're gonna walk up the throne room and get married with a fucking limp tomorrow, Deku— 'm gonna fuck you so good.»

[luisjuanmilton]

have u ever thought about writing something, that includes a crash? Like Seb crashing his Car because it's shitty or someone else or he himself made a mistake and it looks really bad for a second but it turns out to be fine? Sebchal or Sewis 👁️👄👁️

Not me making this be 2k words... I am so sorry anon I got very carried away 🤍

Sebastian Vettel/Charles Leclerc

(tw for description of a crash that results in a concussion, but rest assured it’s not very graphic and everyone’s perfectly okay in the end)

Sebastian thought that every driver had a sixth sense about crashes.

It was like an instinct, something that warned you about what was going to happen seconds before it actually did.

Which was why, as he took a corner and went a little too wide, the car just barely clipping the border of the track, he knew to instantly let go of the steering wheel.

Something had to be amiss with the car, because there was no way it should have reacted that violently to such a tiny error, but before he knew it the car was upside down.

His Ferrari rolled around for what seemed like hours but realistically had to have been only seconds, only coming to an abrupt stop when it collided against the barriers with a sickening thud, the force of the impact making Sebastian’s head slam against the side of his seat before everything went black for a moment.

When Seb came back around he could hear a shrill ringing noise in his ears, and he felt a little dizzy both from the crash itself and because he was still hanging upside down.

It took him a couple of minutes to actually become aware of what was happening, and he blinked slowly as he tried to get rid of the black spots that were dancing in front of his vision.

“Sebastian? Sebastian, please respond”

And Sebastian really tried to do that, but his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. His mind was thankfully clearer, until he was conscious enough to take account of all his body parts and confirm to himself that he was alright.

His head did hurt like a motherfucker, but all things considered he thought that it could have been a lot worse. He really wasn’t looking forward to having to see any bright lights in the foreseeable future though.

“Sebastian”

Oh right, the team were probably expecting an answer.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing he could get out was a pitiful groan. Alright, so maybe his concussion was a little worse than he thought.

“Sebastian, can you confirm you’re alright?”

And well wasn’t it a surprise to hear Mattia’s voice. He even sounded worried, which could have fooled Sebastian.

Okay, that was a little mean.

And he was now talking to himself inside his head. Great.

Right before he was going to try to give a verbal answer once more, he felt his vision go even darker than it already was, and he somehow managed to turn his head to the right to find who he assumed was a marshal kneeling next to the car.

“Mr. Vettel, can you move?”

It probably took Sebastian longer than it should’ve to answer, but after thinking it through he decided that he could at least try.

“Mr. Vettel?”

Oh right, words.

“Y-Yeah” he finally managed to get out, even if his voice sounded like a croaky mess to his ears.

The marshal looked visibly relieved after hearing it though, and Sebastian for the first time wondered exactly how bad the crash looked from the outside.

After being asked if he was bleeding (to which he answered “I don’t think so”), the man instructed him to unclasp his seatbelts, and he couldn’t help the startled yelp that left his mouth after he did that and fell headfirst into the awaiting arms of the marshal.

He was pulled out from under the car in a very unceremonious way, but even after being freed from the metal contraption he found that he was way too tired to move without some sort of assistance, so he allowed himself to be manhandled by the unknown man.

“Do you think you can stand up?”

Sebastian grumbled, if he was being perfectly honest, what he really wanted to do was lay in the floor and take a nap.

The marshal chuckled “I don’t think that’ll be possible right now sir”

Had he said that out loud?

“Yes”

Oh.

“We better get you checked for a concussion as soon as possible” the marshal replied, sounding both worried and a little amused by the entire situation.

Sebastian hummed in agreement, and before he knew it, he was being lifted in the marshal’s arms, the man doing it with an ease that made it seemed like he weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

The man was careful not to move his head too much as he placed him on an awaiting stretcher, and Seb let out a happy sigh at the feeling of the cushion below him. Now he could finally take that nap.

“Please try not to fall asleep Mr. Vettel”

Or not.

A couple of paramedics lifted the stretcher and placed him inside the ambulance, and only then did they carefully remove Sebastian’s helmet, making him wince as he was suddenly faced with the incredibly bright white lights of the vehicle.

The doctor asked him a couple of questions that only took him a little more effort than usual to answer, like what date it was, how much was seven times nine, when he had won his first championship and which country they were currently in.

He thought he had passed the test with flying colors, but the doctor still insisted on driving him to the nearest hospital and conducting a proper examination.

And he still wasn’t allowed to take his nap.

All the fancy tests did was confirm that he was in fact alright, and with every minute that passed he felt the concussion-induced ditziness fading away.

The return to his usual mental state coincided with the small tv screen that was hanging on the corner of his hospital room playing images from his accident, and he felt dread rising in his chest as he saw just how bad the wreckage looked from an outsider’s point of view.

He even felt worried when he saw his limp body getting pulled out from the cockpit, and he obviously knew that he was alright.

“Ah, fuck” he cursed, hoping with all his might that someone had announced that he was perfectly alright by now.

Although if the footage being replayed over and over again without any sign of an update of his condition was anything to go by, he seriously doubted it.

Someone really had to do something about F1’s tendency to show such traumatizing images to their stupidly large audience.

With that thought in mind he shut the tv off, and without the noise coming from it he thought he could hear a very familiar voice screaming down the hall.

“Do I look like I give a shit about not being his family?! You will let me through at once! Mais bon sang pour qui vois prenez-vous?”

Sebastian had to stifle a laugh. Oh, he knew who that voice belonged to alright.

“Sir please calm down –“

“Do not tell me to calm down! Tell me where I can find Sebastian!”

The voices kept growing louder, and Seb sat up straighter in his bed so he could look out of the room’s windows that showed the hospital’s corridors.

“I can’t give you that information sir, I don’t even know how you got past security –“

“Ta gueule! Just tell me where he is!”

As amusing as it was to hear him curse out hospital staff in french, Sebastian thought it was in everybody’s best interests to put a stop to his rampage.

“Charles, I’m over here”

The noise instantly died out at the sound of his voice, and it was replaced by thundering footsteps as Charles followed after it and finally stopped in front of his room’s open door.

And as soon as Sebastian laid eyes on him, any trace of amusement he had felt instantly fizzled out.

“Sebastian?” Charles choked out, his usually confident voice sounding incredibly small as he clearly tried to fight back tears.

The German felt his heart clench at how red and puffy his usually bright green eyes looked, and if all those tell-tale signs of crying weren’t enough, there were also dried tear tracks running down his face.

“Hey Charlie” Sebastian smiled softly, but any reassurance he thought that might have had was quickly discarded as Charles’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I thought you were dead” the younger man gasped, crossing the room with two long strides and all but launching himself on top of Sebastian.

He instinctively brought his arms around Charles’s shoulders, holding him close to his chest as his shoulders heaved with sobs.

“Whoa, hey it’s okay, I’m okay” Sebastian soothed, tracing circles over his back in what he hoped was a calming motion.

“You took so long to answer, and no one was telling me anything” Charles hiccuped, face still firmly buried on Seb’s chest “a-and, and then I saw the footage and when they pulled you out of the car – merde, Seb. I thought I had lost you too”

And well, Sebastian truly thought the despair that tinted Charles’s voice was more painful than any crash could ever be. He would genuinely give away all he owned just to never hear him sound so broken again.

“But you didn’t love, you didn’t lose me” he murmured, gently moving Charles away from him so that he could actually look at his face.

Sebastian carefully brought a hand up to cradle Charles’s face, using his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling in a steady stream.

“I only got a concussion, I’m so sorry for making you worry”

Charles sniffled, the pitiful sound making him look even younger than he was “I-I just thought, I thought I’d never get to see you again”

“I’m right here sweetheart, I might be a little old, but you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon”

The snort he got out of Charles was enough to make a large smile appear on his face, happy to see some of the sparkle back in those eyes he loved so much.

“I’m holding you to that promise old man”

“And I intend to keep it”

With that, Sebastian leaned upwards to close the small distance that was left between them, pressing his lips against Charles in a soft kiss.

Charles’s lips tasted a little salty because of his tears, but Sebastian didn’t care in the slightest, content enough to lazily move their mouths together and feel the way the Monegasque melted into his arms as he effectively distracted him from what had happened.

His boyfriend always seemed as eager to kiss him as he had the first time, and Sebastian would be lying if he said he didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that he was so loved and so desired by him.

Charles looked entirely more content as they separated, pressing another kiss to Seb’s cheek before making himself comfortable next to him on the bed and letting his head fall back to rest on top of his chest, Sebastian immediately starting to run his fingers through his soft black hair.

It was a position they had become incredibly familiar with during the past two years, but now it was even more comforting than it usually was for Charles, because he could actually hear Seb’s beating heart below his ear.

“How did you even get here so fast?” Sebastian asked after they had laid in comfortable silence for a while, the throbbing in his head reduced to a tiny pang by now.

“Ah, yes. Uhhh, I might have sneaked away as everyone else parked the cars and bribed a security man to take me here”

Sebastian was rendered speechless by his boyfriend’s admission, before he broke out into a fit of giggles that made his entire chest rumble with the sound, Charles eventually finding it impossible not to join in.

“You sneaky little gremlin” Seb said in between his chuckles, which only grew louder when the Monegasque turned to look at him with a smirk and a very self-satisfied look in his face.

“I did learn from the best”

“That you did”

The two fell silent again after that, and it didn’t take long at all before they drifted off to sleep, the events of the day being entirely too much for them to handle.

And that was how a gaggle of worried drivers found them hours later, with Lewis just barely being able to stop the younger men (and Daniel) from storming into the room and waking up the couple.

The Brit smiled fondly at the sight of Charles carefully snuggled up against Sebastian’s side, a protective arm firmly planted across the older man’s waist. They were both wearing content looks on their faces, and not for the first time he felt incredibly glad that they had found each other.

“Okay boys, we can come back later. It’s better if we let them sleep it off”

Lewis carefully closed the door to the room as he herded the others away, but not before taking at least fifty pictures of the happy couple that would certainly come in handy as blackmail material some other time.    

[luckofthecosmos8]

Raven Among Crows

This is something I wrote forever ago for a class but I figured I could put it here, It may not be the best, but I’m satisfied with it.

--------

Lourraine unconsciously shrunk in on herself, the jeering laughs around her seemed like they were concentrated on her, instead of the poor soul her friends had targeted. This constant fear was starting to get tiring.

“P-please.” The pixie pleaded. A little thing really. Pale, with some of the brightest red hair Lourraine had ever seen. “Don’t hurt me.”

The pixie’s bright blue, diamond shaped irises alighted on her’s and Lourraine had to tighten her fists. She comforted both herself and the pixie by reassuring herself that her friends wouldn’t hurt the pixie. Pixies were highly empathetic, so the bullies could think as many violent thoughts towards her and overwhelm her, but so long they didn’t cross any lines she would be fine.      

“I don’t know,” Nickolas, the unspoken leader started, “I heard that wings cost a pretty penny these days.” He rested a foot on the small girl’s back, directly between the delicate wings.

Lourraine’s heart seemed to stutter in sync with the wings, the thought of that beautiful kaleidoscope being forcefully ripped off the girl’s back momentarily knocking her out of breath.

“Guys.” Somehow, she kept her voice steady, so much for those aforementioned lines. “It isn’t worth it. Leave the thing alone.”

Nickolas and the rest of the group turned to her, and Lourraine resisted the urge to hunch in on herself, or to check on her ears. Instead she held their gazes unflinchingly.

Nickolas sighed. “I suppose you’re right, come on guys.”

The pixie seemed to be saying thank you with her eyes.

 ---

 Lourraine didn’t often fall asleep in class, but when she did, it was always suddenly and heavily. She had always likened it to an enchanted sleep.

It was cold in the forest, or at least what appeared to be a forest. It was so realistic, Lourraine had to remind herself that this was just a figment of her imagination, the chill settling into her, bone deep.

“If you believe in yourself, the cold might prove to be less of a problem than it actually is.”

“Who’s there?”

Lourraine felt a tap on her shoulder and she whirled around. She was expecting to find a lot, but for some reason coming face to face to a man that couldn’t have been older than her didn’t include itself in the list of possibilities.

“You can call me Kura.” He gave her a warm smile, despite the harsh weather. He was pale, and his dark hair only served to intensify it, his dark clothing seemed to have the same purpose, all blues and purples and the occasional red, though he was wearing nothing that could be counted as warm in the winter. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen, almost white in their intensity, it made Lourraine self-conscious of her own brown eyes

“Hi?”

Another warm smile. “You can be quite fierce when you want to be.”

Lourraine gaped at the man, Kura, momentarily. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your independency.” Like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s obvious you can support yourself, you are your own person with your own personality and values and yet you decide to depend on those you call your ‘friends’. Like a sheep following the herd because it doesn’t know any better.”

“That’s not…”

“Not what? The truth of the matter? We mythological creatures have been oppressed by humans the entirety of our existence, we have learned to put aside our differences and stand together for our rights and yet here is a Fae. Half-human you may be, Fae blood still runs in your veins and you are standing with the humans despite your own desires.”

“What do you know of my desires?” An admittedly stupid question to ask a figment of her imagination, but she could care less at the moment.

Kura shrugged. “Perhaps nothing or maybe I know more than you’d think. My only role here is to help you be truthful to yourself. To acknowledge the person you want to be, instead of the person your ‘friends’ want you to be.”

Lourraine clenched her fists, this guy was so annoyingly cryptic and yet… ”Why do you even care?”

“All snowflakes fall under my domain, it`s my duty to help them, it brings me pleasure to see them thriving.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not a snowflake.”

“No. But like them you’re unique, and I would hate for that to be stripped from you.”

“Thanks for caring, I guess.” She said aloud, underneath her breath however, “what a weird dream.”

Kura chuckled. “Whoever said it was a dream?”

“What?” Lourraine abruptly shot up in her seat, the wintery forest gone from her senses. All that remained was the hard seat of her chair and the sudden attention of her classmates and teacher. She sank back in her seat. “Sorry.”

 ---

 Nickolas was bullying the poor pixie again. It was becoming worse, Lourraine could tell. When she had shown up, she could spy a bruise staining the delicate skin of the pixie’s cheek.

Nickolas laughed uproariously. “How weak, and to think that humans once feared your kind.” Lourraine glanced away at the remark, she was ashamed to admit that sometimes she wished for those days again.

Lourraine gritted her teeth. Those days were long gone and yet the words of her manifested dream persona kept ringing in her ears.

Nickolas suddenly grinned and planted his foot in the middle of the pixie’s back, to both of their surprise, and gripped one of the colorful wings. “How about this? A sign that humans have nothing to fear and my next allowance.”

The pixie cried out. “No! Please, anything but that! Please, I’ll do anything!”

But to Lourraine’s mounting horror, Nickolas only grinned wider and started gently tugging. Thankfully, pixie wings were stronger than they looked, but that still must have caused incredible pain.

“Stop! Nickolas, she gets it! That’s far enough!” Lourraine almost surprised herself by shouting in defense of the pixie, but her words rang true in her own heart. It was enough.

He only chuckled in response. “I’ll decide when it’s enough.”

The pixie screaming only worsened her anxiety and within the next second something within her had snapped.

“Stop!” Her shout, augmented by sudden wind was nearly deafening. Nickolas was pushed away violently from the pixie by a sudden flurry of hail.

Nickolas gaped at her, eyes shooting to her revealed pointed ears before meeting her glaring eyes, ignoring the sudden downpour of rain indoors, a fact neither seemed to notice or care for at the moment.

“You?” He matched her glare with one his own when recovered from the shock. “I trusted you and all this time you were one of them?”

“That’s right. And now I’m telling you to back off, before we both do something we’re going to regret.”

Nickolas faltered, looking up at the indoor storm and suddenly scoffed, stomping away. “Whatever.”

Lourraine sighed, before turning to the crying pixie. “Hey, are you okay?”

The pixie suddenly launched herself at Lourraine, burying her head into her chest and sobbing for all that she was worth. “Thank you. Thank you so much.’

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay now. My name is Lourraine, what’s yours?”

“Nala.”

It was a bit difficult to understand at first, with the sobbing, but she understood well enough. “Nala. That’s a pretty name.”

When Lourraine looked up she could have sworn she saw a pale shadow with dark clothing.

[facialteeth]

A Compromise | Ao3.

When Jace suggested they should move to Idris and Raphael whole heartedly disagreed, Simon knew he was bound to be stuck in the middle of the argument until they came to a solution that they all liked - though Simon couldn't possibly think of one that would please them all. Thankfully, Jace came up with something.

Simon/Raphael/Jace, no warnings. Written for the Hunter’s Moon Discord Server Valentine’s Day Event.

Moving to Idris had been a hard choice for Jace, Simon and Raphael and one that had involved many late nights, discussing the pros and cons of doing so - with Raphael mostly posing cons and Jace mostly posing pros while Simon tried futility to help them come to any kind of a conclusion on the subject.

With Alec being the new Consul and the downworlders suddenly being allowed in Idris, Jace wanted them to go. Alec and Magnus had moved to the city, as well as Izzy and most of the people that Jace and Simon cared about in New York. Jace wanted to be with them and he was only emboldened by the fact that Simon didn’t think it was a bad idea either, though Simon tried not to show absolute support considering that Raphael didn’t think it was a good idea at all.

Raphael insisted he wasn’t against the idea of moving to Idris in and of itself but it was being surrounded by shadowhunters every single day that he found issue with. Simon couldn't really fault him for that. He was probably more comfortable around shadowhunters than any other vampire, considering he had been one before being turned, but even he had to admit that moving to a place so full of them would feel a little uncomfortable.

Honestly, part of Simon was torn. He’d always loved Idris. It was a beautiful country that Simon had so many fond memories of but Simon hadn’t been allowed back since he was turned. The thought of being able to go and make Idris into a home again, especially with the people he loved, was appealing but it seemed too good to be true.

Simon was not a shadowhunter anymore and even with all the changes Alec was making, Idris would not exactly feel like home again, even though Simon wished it would be that easy. Even when Simon walked into the New York Institute, the building he’d live in for most of his life, he was always aware that he was an outsider now and that the shadowhunters were watching him out of the corner of their eyes. He couldn’t even imagine how Raphael must feel, having no connection to the shadowhunters at all, having no connection to Idris but being asked to move there.

Alec had already offered Raphael the position to be the representative for the Vampires, if he wanted it and that did seem to entice Raphael a little but Raphael was never completely on board with working to make the world a better place with the shadowhunters. He wanted that of course but even as much as he’d grown to respect Alec, he stated he was rather sick of putting in the work to undo what the shadowhunters had done in the first place - which ruffled Jace’s feathers a little bit even though Simon understood what Raphael meant.

It was just at the point that Simon really thought that they’d never come to any kind of agreement about it, that Jace barged into the Hotel Dumort, more specifically into Raphael and Simon’s (and pretty much Jace’s, if Simon was being honest) room, instantly speaking with an intensity that made both his vampire boyfriends still and turn to look at him.

“We’re going to look at a house,” he snapped.

Raphael blinked slowly. “A house?” He echoed, sounding none too impressed.

“You don’t want to live in Alicante. I get that. Too many shadowhunters, who likes them anyway but I found a house.” Jace paused for a moment, as if he had fully expressed his idea, which he had not. “It’s in Idris but it’s not in Alicante,” Jace continued finally, when Raphael still failed to look impressed by his idea. It was clear Jace thought the city of Alicante was the problem and not Idris itself. Simon wasn’t exactly sure how Raphael would feel about that. “It’s secluded and nice and not in Alicante, did I mention that?”

Simon was pretty sure Jace was speaking to Raphael but Simon answered anyway, “You did mention that once or twice.”

Jace merely nodded, hardly even glancing in Simon’s direction. Simon would be offended but he understood that he wasn’t exactly the person who needed convincing here. “Good, I’ll say it one more time for good measure: It’s not in Alicante.” Jace paused, waiting for a response from Raphael which yet again, failed to come.

“I know you’ve been thinking about taking Alec’s job offer. You don’t want to live in Alicante. We’re going to look at this house. You can hate it but we’re going to look and you’re going to come and you’re not going to complain about it until you see it, okay?”

Raphael stayed still for a long moment before he rolled his eyes and nodded. “Fine.”

Jace practically leapt in the air before he was turning to Simon, rambling, “It’s so nice, Si.” Jace moved forward, wrapping his arms around Simon’s shoulders to tug him backwards until they were both lying sprawled on the bed together. “It’s made of this nice rock and it has pretty vines outside and these cool windows-”

“It sounds unkempt,” Raphael commented mildly.

“No complaining until you see it!” Jace snapped, lifting his head to glare at Raphael from across the bed.

Again, Raphael rolled his eyes and after a moment, Jace launched back into his description.

.

Three days later they did in fact go to see this house Jace had found and when they portaled to the outside of it, Simon had to admit that it did look rather pretty. It was on the outskirts of the country with no one around for miles, deep in the woods. The house had been abandoned for a few decades and it looked it but all the windows were intact and overall, it looked more overgrown than decrepit.

It was pretty but undoubtedly shadowhunter architecture. It reminded Simon of a tiny, less overbearing institute with its stone arches and gothic exterior. Simon liked it but he glanced sideways to Raphael, who was looking at the building with a pointedly blank expression on his face.

“It looks cold,” he commented at last.

Instantly, Jace was speaking, “It has a wooden fireplace and you’re dead.”

Raphael's gaze sharpened into a glare. “I meant it looks cold for you.”

Jace jumped to point to a rune on his arm. “Shadowhunter and wooden fireplace! Come look inside, I’ll show you.”

Raphael had a look on his face like he was trying to hold back a groan but he followed Jace towards the door without another word.

“It’s pretty,” Simon stated, which earned him a soft glare from Raphael and a grin from Jace.

.

The inside of the house was surprisingly more charming than the outside. Though everything had a fine layer of dust over it, you wouldn’t be able to tell otherwise that the building had sat unused for so long. Everything was still intact and with the pale moonlight drifting in the windows, lighting all the fine dust in pale hues, Simon had to admit that it had a certain kind of charm to it.

“You’re going to get sick breathing all that in,” Raphael said gruffly before looking to Simon, snapping, “Don’t breathe.”

Jace rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to get sick.”

“There’s probably lead in here,” Raphael continued.

“There is not. It’s all stone anyway.”

Quietly, Raphael huffed. “Don’t step on any nails,” he grumbled, following behind Jace with his arms crossed. “This place is a death trap.”

“Thankfully, two out of the three of us are already dead,” Jace quipped back, something that Raphael didn’t look too reassured by.

Simon grabbed Raphael’s tense arm, squeezing it softly. “I think it would look cute, without all the dust and with some actual furniture inside.”

Raphael gave a soft hum and said nothing more but his arm relaxed under Simon’s touch as they followed Jace towards the bedroom, listening as Jace pointed and explained how the house would look with all of their things in it.

Raphael didn’t seem to have much else to say because he stayed silent through the rest of Jace’s ramblings, bearing them without comment.

.

“You hate it,” Jace accused once they’d finished with the unofficial tour.

“I don’t hate it.” Raphael said simply, despite not murmuring a single good word about the house since they stepped inside.

“Then what?” Jace asked, frowning in Raphael’s direction and waiting patiently for their grumpy boyfriend to finally decide to express himself.

When Raphael realized Jace wasn’t planning on moving on without him answering and Simon wasn’t planning on speaking either, he rolled his eyes again. “I just think you're going to regret it,” he snapped, not making eye contact with either of them.

For a moment, Jace stammered. Even Simon was surprised by that answer.

“Why would he regret it?” Simon asked quietly.

Again, Raphael rolled his eyes, seeming aggravated that they were pressing him on it. Simon knew Raphael acted like that when he was trying to avoid answering but Simon and Jace had both learned if they just stayed quiet, he’d be forced to express himself one way or another. “We’re vampires,” Raphael explained, something that Simon wasn’t exactly surprised by. “We should live in places like this, far away from everyone else but Jace isn’t. Jace likes people. Jace likes his siblings. Jace likes Alicante.”

Raphael turned to look to Jace, glaring softly. “You’re going to regret moving all the way out here and you’re going to resent me for not wanting to live in your city.”

For a second, no one spoke. Jace opened his mouth and then closed it before he finally opened it again. “What?” He snapped. “Why would I have brought you all the way out here to look at the house if I didn’t want to live here with you?”

Raphael said nothing and after a beat, Jace kept speaking. “I don’t care about Alicante. I want to live with both of you and this place is nice. I don’t care that it’s isolated. We can grow herbs outside and there’s enough room for Simon to make music and we can decorate and make it look less-” Jace waved his arms vaguely. “-shadowhuntery.” Jace blinked a few times but when Raphael simply stared, he kept speaking, his voice a little softer now. “Why would you think I’d regret that? Living with both of you is all I’ve ever wanted and this place is so nice. I thought you’d like it, after you saw it.”

Raphael blinked for another few seconds before he glanced around the house once again, his expression softening just a little. “It is kind of nice,” he mumbled at last. “Can we even get electricity out here?” He asked, which was as much of an approval as Jace and Simon were bound to get. Anything but a ‘no’ from Raphael was undoubtedly a ‘yes’.

“Yes, we can!” Jace said, grinning. He glanced to Simon, his expression suddenly immensely excited and pleading. “Simon?”

Simon laughed softly. “Of course, I love it.”

Jace let out a soft cheer before he was turning towards the kitchen, going on about how they’d ask Magnus for a portal so they could move what they needed for the night.

Raphael rolled his eyes again but now, Simon could see a small smile on his face that he was clearly trying to keep down. “We’re going to spend Valentine's Day in an empty creepy house?” Raphael asked.

For a second, Simon blinked, reminded suddenly that tomorrow was in fact Valentine's Day.

Jace turned around to look back at both of them with a grin. “No, we’re going to spend Valentine’s Day in our empty creepy house.”

Originally, Simon had planned that he and his boyfriends would spend Valentine’s Day at the hotel. He’d hoped they’d have a movie night and spend the evening cuddling but… clearing out the thick layer of dust that was covering every inch of their new home sounded kind of nice too.

With the assurance that Jace wouldn’t resent them for making him move to the middle of nowhere, Raphael seemed far more interested in the entire concept. He wanted them to replace everything in the kitchen, so he could cook for Jace with appliances that weren’t a hundred years old. He liked Jace’s idea of growing their own herbs. He decided to keep Alec hanging for a few extra days before he finally admitted that he’d take the position he was offered but even that, he suddenly seemed much more excited for.

Simon himself was told he could help teach at the academy if he wanted. They were looking for more downworlders to help teach the classes about downworlders and though that did seem kind of fun, Simon decided to spend some time at home, at their new home.

He and Jace were going to redo the wood floor all by themselves. Simon wasn’t too sure how it would come out, considering that neither of them knew how to lay a floor down but it seemed like a fun thing to do with Jace while Raphael was working.

Overall, that first day of cleaning wasn’t exactly how Simon had envisioned spending Valentine’s Day but it was a rather nice way to spend the day. Simon wasn’t exactly sure how ready he was to jump into Shadowhunter affairs again but living in Idris in an adorable house with his boyfriends was a lovely start and even Raphael seemed much more at ease having to interact with the shadowhunters, when he could come home and avoid every single one of them, except the one they lived with.

To Simon, it felt like a promise for the future that no matter how different they all were, they’d carve out a place for them all to exist together. It wasn’t Alicante but it was close enough. It wasn’t away from the shadowhunters entirely but it was far enough away that Raphael did not feel uncomfortable and Simon did not feel torn between his old life as one of them and his new one, as a vampire.

Jace himself? Well, Jace was just excited they liked it and when they were all so tired that they couldn’t clean any longer, they curled up together on a bundle of blankets they brought. Jace had sipped a glass of wine, while Simon and Raphael drank blood. They snuggled on the cold ground in the silence of their empty home that still did not have electricity in and Simon found that he couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend Valentine’s Day, even as unconventional as it was.

Simon loved them both so much. He thought it was rather obvious that they loved each other based on the fact that they made such a big choice like moving in together but for now, Simon kept that thought to himself anyway. Saying it for the first time on Valentine's Day was romantic but Simon thought if he said it while they were already doing so much, he might really just scare Raphael away for good.

Simon didn’t say it, not that night but he curled into Raphael’s shoulder and clutched Jace’s warm arm close and he thought it hoping they’d feel it somehow.

[scatterednova]

Summary: Asmodeus and Clara discover the truth behind Iruma's parents and decide that it's their responsibility to make up for the love and affection he missed out on growing up. But they somehow miss the fact that Iruma is doing just fine without his previous family, and he's enjoying his new one very much.

-

    “Whoah, Azz-kun! Your bloodline magic is so cool!” Iruma gushed. He had roped himself into helping the janitors clear the cherry blossoms again, but thankfully Azz-kun was there to burn them to a crisp. 

    “Thank you, Iruma-sama! But my magic pales into comparison to yours!” Azz-kun puffed up in pride with a literal sparkle in his eyes. But that quickly morphed to anger as Clara slammed into his side.

    “Iruma-chi! Are you done yet? I wanna play!” she whined as Azz-kun tried to pry her off. Iruma rubbed her head and laughed.

    “Yeah, just finished thanks to Azz-kun. What do you want to do?” Clara launched herself off of Azz-kun to latch onto Iruma. 

    “I wanna play with the fire!” she cheered and lunged for the small traces of soot that Azz-kun’s fire had left behind. She slammed her hands in the ash and spun around. “Look! It’s like chalk! I bet we can draw with it!”

    “You idiot! You’re going to get our uniforms dirty!” Azz-kun growled as he hoised Clara up to keep her from touching anything. That backfired, and Clara latched onto the sleeve of Azz-kun’ all-white uniform. He dropped her and started rubbing his sleeve. “See what I mean! You’re lucky class is already over!”

    “Don’t worry Azz-azz! I can make another one!” She pulled a nearly identical copy of Azz-kun’ uniform, but in a glaring shade of hot pink and sparkling like a disco ball.

    “I’m not wearing that thing!” Azz-kun yelled back. Iruma was left in the background to watch with an awkward smile. He knew that if he let them keep at it they would never get around to leaving.

    “Clara! How about we play as we walk home?” He interjected into their little squabble. By this point, Clara had climbed on top of Azz-kun’s head and was cackling madly while waving the uniform around. They both turned to face him at the same time, which looked a little creepy. Clara launched herself off once again, causing Azz-kun to squawk about his hair, and landed next to Iruma. 

    “Can we play tag?” Clara started bouncing in place while flashing Iruma puppy-dog eyes. 

    “Sure thing, that sounds like fun!” Iruma gave her another pat to the head and started leading her out the gates. He trusted Azz-kun to follow, and by the time they got to the gate he had reclaimed his usual position by Iruma’s side. Clara started skipping ahead of the pair before screeching to a halt right outside the gate.

    “Alright! If you don’t have a ribbon you’re not it!” Clara yelled as she produced two ribbons patterned with some creature that Iruma didn’t recognize. She shoved one in Iruma’s hands before sprinting off. Iruma fumbled with it for another moment before following suit.

    “Hey! We didn’t agree on who it would be! Why am I stuck with it!”

--

    Iruma sprawled out across his bed, idly watching Clara build an entire fort out of materials she pulled from her pockets. Azz-kun was yelling at her about ‘disrespecting the sanctity of Iruma-sama’s room!’. Iruma was content to stay there and watch them. He was still unused to having so many people around him, especially people who seemed to have an interest in his happiness. And his friends were so powerful, it still blew his mind whenever he saw them pull off some powerful feat of magic.

    “Clara! That’s amazing!” Speaking of magic, Clara had just finished her elaborate three-story fort, complete with a ball pit and balcony. It was easily one of the coolest things Iruma had seen that week, and Clara had just assembled it before his very eyes. “Both of you have the coolest bloodline magic.”

    “Iruma-sama, you honor us! But your bloodline magic is surely far superior….” Azz-kun gushed, only to be cut off by Clara.

    “Iruma-chi, what’s your bloodline magic?” She jumped up next to him and leaned in until their noses were almost touching.

    “Valac! If he wanted us to know he would have let us know by now!” Azz-kun started to scold her in the background, but Iruma laughed.

    “Oh, I don’t know either.” Technically, he didn’t have any bloodline magic. But he had Grandpa’s magic, so that might have ended up in his ring as well. But Grandpa had never mentioned it, and Iruma had never thought about it before. 

    That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as both his friends were giving him weird looks.

    “How do you not know?” Clara cocked her head and gave him a puzzled look.

    “Well, I haven’t spoken to my parents in ages, and Grandpa never mentions it. So I just never figured it out,” Iruma tried to laugh it off, but he just got even weirder looks. 

    “Valac! You shouldn’t pry! You could be messing with very painful memories!”Azz-kun was fuming in the background and tried to yank Clara away.

    “Don’t worry, I’m over it. They didn’t want anything to do with me, and I’ve accepted that.” Iruma had spent hours thinking it over, and it had taken a while for him to realize that he no longer felt an affection for the people who had tossed him aside after he spent his entire life trying to please them. He even felt comfortable enough to open up about it, as he was doing now.

    “Iruma-chi…” For once in her life, Clara was shocked speechless. Azz-kun was in a similar boat, but he looked more offended than shocked. “Your parents...just left you?” 

    “Yeah, but now I live with Grandpa. I’m happier than I’ve ever been!” Iruma tried to appease his friends, but they still looked disturbed. Clara was plastered to his side, and Azz-kun was hovering around the edges of the bed. “Really guys, It doesn’t bother me anymore. I’m happier here than I ever was there with them. You don’t need to worry.”

    Clara and Azz-kun still seemed deeply disturbed, but they seemed to be willing to drop it. The rest of the afternoon had a tense current to it despite that.

--

    “Do you remember what Iruma-chi said earlier?” Clara would usually use the walk home to mess with Alice, but today she quietly trailed behind him. She’d tried to brush off Iruma’s words when she was playing with him, but it stuck with her. 

    “About his parents? Vividly,” Alice, on the other hand, was trying not to combust until they were out of Iruma’s line of sight. “Iruma-sama is the pinnacle of ability and compassion! Any respectable demon would kill to have him as an heir, and those idiots just throw him away!” 

    “I can’t even think about my mom doing that to me.” Clara moped as she thought about her own family. Whenever she tried to think of her mom doing that to her, her mind just blanked. 

    “I don’t exactly see eye to eye with my mother, but to think that she didn’t even care about me…” Alice had gone from fuming to staring at the ground. Similarly to Clara, he simply couldn’t imagine his parents turning on him. “His grandfather really seems to care about him, though.”

    “Yeah! Iruma-chi doesn’t need those losers! He has everything he needs right here!” Clara declared. She was starting to get pumped up. “We can be all the family he needs!” 

    “Valac, you’re on to something! Iruma-sama seems to be doing fine, but it’s our duty as friends to make sure that he has the love and support he needs in life!” Alice yelled. He was blazing with determination, and in his haste, he forgot that Iruma had clearly told them that he was fine with the whole thing.

--

    “Clara, is something going on?” Iruma was getting a little suspicious. Azz-kun and Clara had seemingly been on the same page all day, which was weird in of itself. But now Clara was dragging him off on an ‘adventure’, and Azz-kun hadn’t yelled at her about it. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be as excited as Clara was about all this. 

    “Don’t worry Iruma-chi! We’re gonna have fun!” That didn’t calm Iruma down in the slightest, but if Azz-kun seemed okay with it he probably wouldn’t die. He shrugged and let himself be dragged away. Grandpa wasn’t expecting him home for a while, so he could text him once they got to their mystery destination. 

“Yes, Iruma-sama! You have nothing to fear?” Well, that sealed it. Iruma was just going to roll with it. 

--

    Alice regretted every decision that led him to this personal torture. He should have remembered the festival, but he got swept up in Valac’s enthusiasm and forgot that Valac’s entire family were carbon copies of her. 

    “Azz-kun, are you okay? You’re looking a little pale,” Iruma asked. 

    “I am quite alright, Iruma-sama!” Alice gripped his cup tighter as one of the boys plastered his uniform with a supply of stickers that he hadn’t been holding a minute ago. His hair had been yanked into braids and tied with bows. Iruma had half a flower garden in his, and a new manicure that was so blinding it gave him a migraine every time he looked at it.

    “If you’re sure, Azz-kun.” Iruma-same gave him a blinding smile and Alice felt better about the whole thing.

    “Dinner’s ready! Everyone gather around!” Valac’s mother swooped in with an entire feast. Iruma-sama’s eyes lit up, and he and Valac shared a look across the table. It appeared that Operation: Home Cooked Meal was a success. Mrs. Valac, who had been informed of their plan, seemed to take great pleasure in lovingly piling more on Iruma-sama’s plate. Time for the next phase!

--

    “Alright, kiddos! Have fun while I’m out! Take care of yourselves!” Valac’s mother gave all the kids one last pat on the head before breezing out the door. 

    “Bye-bye!” The Valac children waved after their mother as she made her way to do whatever it was she was doing. Clara spun around and grabbed Iruma-sama by the sleeves while her siblings attached themselves to his legs. “Iruma-chi! Do you want to play now?” 

    “Of course! What do you guys usually play when you’re home?” Iruma-sama gave them another beaming smile.

    “It’s a surprise!” Iruma-sama was dragged over to one of the many piles of pillows in a corner of the room. Alice trailed behind them while suppressing the urge to lecture them on their treatment of Iruma-sama. But this part of the operation required authentic sibling bonding, so it would be counterproductive to intervene. But he still made sure to nab the cushion next to Iruma-sama. For all he knew, those little demons had more stickers stuck up their sleeves.

    “Behold! The ultimate sibling experience!” The boys shouted in unison as they raised what looked like an ordinary board game in the air. Iruma-same clapped his hands together.

    “That looks like a lot of fun! How do you play?” Iruma-sama gushed as he praised the little ones. 

    “Last one to turn pink wins!” Alice should have been concerned about the helmets that were being passed around, but this was just a board game, right? Surely Clara didn’t really need all those balloons filled with a mystery liquid. 

--

    The matriarch of the Valac family sighed and put her head in her hands. She wished she could join in on the fun back home, but it was important for kids to have space to express themselves. And it was her duty as a mother to give the kids the enrichment they need! Her heart went out for that poor Iruma boy, but he seemed to be doing just fine. He had some very caring friends and a home to go back to. But it wouldn’t hurt if she ‘accidentally’ made too much food in the morning and sent Clara to school with an extra bento.

--

    Iruma staggered home, covered in paint and glitter but loving it at the same time. He’d always wondered what having siblings would be like, be he never imagined something so explosive. Though, Clara’s family was probably a special case. The only thing that could top it was spending an evening with his new family. 

    “Opera-san? Are you here?” He called out as he stepped through the doors of his home. The cat demon in question appeared at his side and gave him a critical look-over. Her tail twitched, the only sign of her slight displeasure at his appearance. “Sorry I got the uniform dirty.” He gave her a sheepish look as he took his shoes off.

    “Who did this? Do I need to handle them?” She got a slightly dangerous look on her face. “I will inform Lord Sullivan of this if I need to.”

    “Oh no, it’s not like that. I just went to Clara’s house to play and it got a little out of hand. It wasn’t a prank or anything.” Iruma waved his hands in front of his face as he tried to calm her down. “And sorry again about the uniform.”

    “You don’t need to apologize for something like that. I’ll draw a bath for you. Try and brush some of the glitter off in the meantime,” Opera-san reassured him. Her face was still blank, but her tail had stopped lashing around. He took that as a good sign and followed her upstairs. 

    “Is grandpa around?” 

    “He had some business at the school, but he’ll be home shortly. I believe that he has a surprise for you afterward. “ Iruma cringed slightly. Surprises from Grandpa were always a big deal, but they had a tendency to go overboard. Like his entire first day here, for example. And nearly every day after that.

    “Well, I’m still looking forward to it.”

--

    “Iruma! My precious grandson!” Iruma found himself in a familiar set of arms. 

    “Grandpa! How was your day?” He returned the hug with a warm smile.

    “Ahh! You get cuter every time I see you!” Sullivan cooed as he squeezed Iruma tighter. 

    “If you’re done, you have something to tell him.” He could always trust Opera-san to be the voice of reason in this household. His grandpa started sparkling at the reminder and he finally released Iruma from his embrace. 

    “Your beloved Grandpa has set up a playdate for you! I’ve spoken with their parents and both of your friends are coming over for dinner tomorrow!” Grandpa straightened up and spun around. 

    “Wow! Azz-kun and Clara are coming over? I’m so excited!” Iruma gushed and got caught in another hug. Even Opera-kun looked pleased with the situation. His friends had been over to his house before, but they had always just kinda ended up here. The few planned social events were usually class-wide, and while he loved his other friends he looked forward to hanging out with Clara and Azz-kun. 

    “My grandson is so cute!”

    “Sir, please let go of Iruma-san so he can eat.”

--

    “Iruma-chi!” Clara sprung forward the instant the door was opened and plastered herself against Iruma’s side. He laughed and patted her head.

    ‘I’m glad you’re here! Have you seen Azz-kun yet?” Iruma looked back out the door and into the woods, trying to spot a flash of pink and white. He saw him a second later when he came barreling into view.

    “Valac! Don’t go running off like that!” He growled at Clara, who was hanging off of Iruma’s arm like a monkey. Clara laughed and ran off farther into Iruma’s house. Azz-kun scowled after her. He bowed deeply. “Iruma-sama, I apologize for her manners. To think that she would disrupt the sanctity of your home,” he growled softly. 

    “Don’t worry about it! You know how she is.” Iruma waved his hands in front of his face while he assured his friend. Azz-kun raised himself with a sparkle in his eyes.

    “Iruma-sama is so gracious!” Azz-kun gushed. Iruma felt the urge to slam his face into his hands in embarrassment, but he’d gotten better at handling Azz-kun and had developed something of an immunity.

    “Come on, Azz-kun. The food will get cold.” He shot him a grin while leading his friend down the hall. He was followed by Azz-kun’s fervent compliments.

--

    “Iruma-sama! I will avenge your honor!” Azz-kun shouted as he mashed the buttons on the controller. Clara was perched on the back of the couch like the gremlin she was, and Iruma was enjoying the sight. He’d been knocked out by the boss, so he had a minute or two before he respawned. He took the time to enjoy the atmosphere. Opera-san occasionally popped in with snacks and advice, and Grandpa was lurking in the corner with a camera. 

    “This blasted creature!” Azz-kun threw his controller down after his character took a fireball to the face and died. 

    “Don’t worry, Azz-kun! The longer you play the easier it gets.” Iruma comforted his friend while he prepared himself to rejoin the game again. 

    “You are truly an admirable person to master this blasted device.” And Azz-kun was back to complimenting him. He shot him a quick smile before joining the game again. 

    “Well, I play them a lot. Opera-san plays with me every day. It’s not as chaotic as Clara’s games, but it’s nice to just hang out with my family.” Iruma was fully focused on the game at this point, so he missed Azz-kun’s revelation. 

--

    “I think we miscalculated,” Alice hissed as soon as he and Valac were out of earshot. He had made sure to properly say goodbye to Iruma-sama and his family, but he had to admit that he rushed a bit. He needed to talk this over with Valac. 

    “About Iruma-chi’s family?” Valac had gone quiet, and the whole situation was very reminiscent of the conversation that had started this whole thing. “I felt bad for him because his parents suck, but he seems to be doing alright.” 

    “Opera-san and Lord Sullivan gave him everything we thought he was missing,” Alice mussed. Valac latched onto his arm and gave him a look that he assumed was her version of being thoughtful. 

    “I guess we don’t need to do anything else,” Valac declared as she danced ahead on the path. Alice instinctively lunged forward to grab her. 

    “Well, that’s obvious! Now stop running around!”

[barnesandco]

Nikah: September

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, pain, visiting a graveyard. 

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart​ ‘s writing challenge. I’m sorry for the one-day delay. This weekend’s second chapter - October - should be up tomorrow. Please comment and reblog! Thank you for reading!

Time heals many wounds. The scar left by the urge for revenge is not one of them, Bucky learns when he gets the call informing him of the capture of his wife’s kidnapper. He’s in an obscure corner of New York, deep into the maze of fabrics and colors, when Sam’s voice - congratulatory and bone-tired - gives him the news. Bucky was excluded from the investigation due to personal connection to the victim, and placed on an obligatory sick leave after his… incident. The cliff’s edge his wife pulled him back from. 

Yet he has managed to learn certain details. Such as the fact that there was no greater plot, no Hydra involvement, only a psychopathic monster out for blood and pain. The type of men there is no shortage of in this world of grue and terror. He does not want to subject her to any more of it, but she is too intelligent to allow him to take that choice from her. She does not consider this, them, him to be terrible or cruel. 

Now, she turns to him from the silk she’s examining after a minute too long of his mental absence. Cocks her head as she takes note of the phone in his hand, the conversation itself having passed her by amidst her other preoccupations and the lull of Bollywood music in the air.

“Everything okay? It can get kind of stuffy in here, so if you want to get some air-”

“I’m fine, doll,” He insists, letting the cloud of her perfume envelope him like her rare embraces. 

“Okay,” She says dubiously. “Let me know if you want to go.”

Her concern is touching, but Bucky doesn’t know if he should open his heart to it or blockade against it. Thankfully, she changes the subject.

“What do you think?” She asks, gesturing toward the selection of fabrics she seems to have shortlisted. Her cousin’s wedding is in December, which apparently requires preparation months prior, in the form of shopping for a new lehenga. Or the materials to have one made, rather. Bucky looks from the deep purple to the vivid mauve to the sea green and tries hard not to shrug.

“I bet they’ll all look gorgeous on you.”

“I only need one, Buck, and I’m having trouble choosing between the green and mauve,” She says, pointing to the fabric she can’t decide between. 

“They’re both nice,” He says, but upon seeing her frown deepen, he adds: “The green one’s a jaw dropper.” She grins in agreement and seeks out a shopkeeper to cut the required length of cloth.

Sam’s voice echoes in his mind as they exit the shop for the one next door. In this one, he takes in the piles of lace and borders and ornate brooches and buttons while the rage simmers below the surface. He can no longer tell if the flush in his cheeks is from the bridled anger or the warmth caused by his wife’s presence. Her keen eyes are scanning a row of spectacular trimmings, and she sighs at the difficulty of the choice.

Craning her neck, she spots the one she wants but soon realizes she cannot reach. Bucky doesn’t give her the time to ask for his assistance, reaching up over her to grab the reel of golden, glittering trim she’s pointed out. The electricity that crackles when his front meets her back in the process is almost enough to forget the disapproving glares from the two middle-aged shop owners. Almost.

Their kind wrinkles have turned colder but she thaws them with a smile and the familiar, polite title of uncle. Another common term in the desi vernacular, log kya kahenge - what will people say? - replays in his brain like an audio cassette, the expression having been the subject of many a frustrated, late-night rant he has absorbed from his wife. There will surely be a rerun later today, unless he gives her the news of her attackers capture before she has the opportunity to launch her case against South Asian obsession with public reputation. By the time they leave, the elderly gentlemen are at ease while Bucky is not, staying three paces behind until they’re out of sight.

“ ‘M sorry, doll, I shouldn’t have-” His sentence is cut off by her razor sharp glare as she halts on the sidewalk.

“Don’t you dare apologize, Bucky Barnes. If I had a problem with you grazing against me while trying to help with something, I’d have made it quite clear,” She declares, taking his hand and steering them towards the subway. Sunday shoppers mill about, enjoying the last of the summer sun before autumn takes its place. They carry bags of their own, but few match the ones Bucky is carrying. Queens’ Asian hub is bustling with activity, and he relishes in its awe until he smells the curry house a street down.

He tells her of his discovery in the entrance to the station, and her eyes light up like fireworks on Steve’s birthday - rest his soul - and they turn back for food. Bucky’s nose takes the lead, and six minutes and a wrong turn later, they’re standing like moths to a flame, the scent of spices embedding itself into their nerves. She inhales joyously as they’re taken to the last empty seats, against a wall covered in pictures of Pakistani and Indian monuments. Bucky doesn’t comment on the political tensions he knows are present between the two nations, knowing that governments are rarely as representative of their people’s beliefs as they ought to be.

There isn’t any music either, just the sound of commentary from the cricket match playing on several TV screens. It’s a rerun of the previous year’s World Cup final between England and New Zealand, and his wife looks sourly at it, knowing the results didn’t go the way she wanted them to. 

“It all came down to luck in the end,” She comments, picking up the menu. Bucky quirks an eyebrow. “It wasn’t even a fair win. The umpire admitted to faulty judgement, and I don’t blame him, but super overs are such a stressful, inconsistent way of completing the game. New Zealand worked so hard and it was all overturned by a stroke of luck. I feel bad for poor Kane Williamson,” She says, and Bucky puts down the menu as the waiter approaches. The conversation pauses as they place their orders - chicken karahi for him and chicken achari for her - before he says anything.

“Sweetheart, if you think that’s bad, imagine cheatin’ death three times over and getting home to learn that your team’s now playing for the opposite coast. LA Dodgers. Pfft,” He says, shaking his head, and she laughs, corner of her eyes crinkling like silk as her laughter chimes. It’s the only song he knows he’ll never tire of hearing, the one that sounds as good as the day he first heard it.

The first time he makes her laugh is, like many other aspects of his life, hysterically ironic. They’re in a graveyard, dawn taking its rightful place on the horizon. A midnight and a half of walking caused by devilish, sleep-stealing nightmares, eventually led them to Steve’s grave. The ground is unthawing slowly, much like the icy shields they have put up against one another, and she’s holding a bouquet of anemones from a miraculous florist.

She tries to give him the flowers but he shakes his head. His hands shake more violently from inside his jacket pocket and he tries to breathe, the night chill seeping into his skin. Hesitantly, she kneels down, brushes some dust off his tombstone, and places the vividly beautiful flowers in front of it. Rises, bones heavy with sympathy, and turns to him.

“I’m just glad he died in his own bed and not on the battlefield like he seemed so damn hell-bent on doin’. Wouldn’t have wanted that for him,” He muses to ease her tortured expression. Deliver a message of having moved on, having accepted this life without his best man. His best bud.

“He would have been just as happy either way, going by what you’ve told me,” She answers, peering sideways at him from under eyelashes that reflect the last of the moonlight. He gives a short, wistful laugh.

“Yeah. You know what he told me once, still that skinny Brooklyn kid after another fight? He said he’d have fought him even if he’d have been ten times bigger instead of two.” She laughs, too, and although it’s a sad, sorrowful thing, overflowing with exhaustion and despair, Bucky hasn’t heard anything as beautiful since the sound of Sam in his ear after the Blip.

“And he proved that with Thanos. Those bullies were just practice. I laughed at him anyway, but he had the bigger picture in mind that I never did.”

He still doesn’t. Not even now, with his wife’s hand in his, standing in the lobby to the apartment he owns. She tells him they haven’t checked the mail since last Wednesday and they head over to the letter boxes instead. The reason for their marriage, the bigger picture she sees in her head, is pulled out in the form of an envelope from the United States Government. She opens it with shaking hands, and the green card is extracted, heart in throat. Bucky sees the disbelieving joy in her eyes, and thinks: his own is now over.

Taglist: @suz-123​ @mermaidxatxheart​ @buckyreaderrecs​ @shield-agent78​ @corneliabarnes​ @readerandcinephileingeneral​ @stevieboyharrington​ @notsomellowmushroom​ @veganfangirl5​ @mood-pancakes​ @lbuck121​ @starnight-charmer​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @geeksareunique​ @samingtonwilson​ @alyxkbrl​ @bucky-smiles​

[danielslilangel]

Make Love Not War- Daminette (Pt. Two)

Part One

Part Two 

Part Three

The four Wayne boys entered the gym and found Marinette excitedly stretching as she talked with Tikki about something they were too far away to catch.

“Marinette,” Damian called as he took his place on one side of the large circle mat the boys used as an attempt to soften the blows they landed upon each other. He gave her a brief smile as she made her way over to her place, happy to be the reason she was smiling even if it was because he was about to beat her in a sparring match. She really is the sunshine of Gotham. “How do you want to do this? Single round? Best two out of three?” He wanted her to at least think he was taking this seriously in the hopes that she would actually keep her word and not ask again.

“Multiple rounds are fine with me.”

Damian paused for a moment before looked around and spotted Alfred as he walked by the door. “Alfred will be the judge since he’s the only one in this house who knows how to be impartial.”

“Is anyone in this house really impartial when it comes to anything involving Marinette?” Jason whispered from the sidelines.

“Of course I will be young Master.” The aged butler made his way to the outer edge of the mat. “The victor will be determined after one person wins two out of the three rounds. A round is over when one of you pins your opponent to the ground for three seconds. The person pinned must have both shoulders touching the mat for the entire count in order for the win to count. No moves are off limits, but weapons are not allowed. Both of you must stay inside the outer circle at all times or the round restarts. Forfeiting a round is grounds for an automatic win for the other person. Are you both in agreement with these rules?” He looked at both his charges and held a hand up in the air as they nodded. “Are you ready then?”

“Yes.” Damian rolled his neck side to side and shook out his arms to release some of the tension. He needed to move quickly but accurately to make sure he didn’t actually hurt her while winning.

“Oh, wait!” Marinette squeaked before leaving her place on the mat and running over to the corner where Tikki flitted in the air like a boxing coach.

“Giving up already Marinette?” Dick called.

“Don’t be scared sweetheart! We’ll make sure he gets what’s coming to him if he roughs you up too much.” Jason laughed as Damian held up his middle finger in his brothers direction.

Marinette simply ignored the brothers calls and thankfully took a hair tie from her kwami’s outstretched paw before tying her hair up in a tight ponytail so none of it fell across her face obscuring her vision. She wouldn’t have spent so much time that morning straightening it if she had known she was going to do this today. Turning back towards the mat, she had another thought and decided to take off her loose cold shoulder top off, revealing the black sports bra underneath. She didn’t want the extra fabric there to impede her movements or allow Damian to get a better grip on her, but she also waited a second to appreciate that her action had served another purpose of bringing a small amount of pink to Damian’s cheeks. He refused to make eye contact with her as she jogged back to her place inside the circle. He has no idea what’s about to hit him.

“Now I’m ready,” she smiled and took up her fighting stance, falling so easily into the role of Ladybug that she could almost forget that she wasn’t wearing her spotted suit.

“Let me know if I get too rough Angel.”

“I could ask the same of you.”

He chuckled, the low sound making her shake her head to clear it. “I will keep that in mind.”

Alfred raised a hand and stepped back, knowing it was best to remain out of the way whenever he took up the role of referee. “Ready? Begin.”

Damian moved first, darting forward while aiming to grab her arms, swing her to the ground and quickly end this round without her getting the chance to come after him and accidentally hurt herself. He hadn’t expected her to move quite so fast though, having thought that his girlfriend would remain the clumsy girl he’d gotten to know over the past year that they’ve been together. At least she actually does have some self preservation skills, he thought as she managed to slip behind him. Spinning around, he aimed a kick towards her side, wincing as he felt it connect briefly with her ribs. He really didn’t want to hurt her, but he pushed himself to step forward and jabbed at her, catching the same side with his fist though he made sure to reign in some of the force behind the punch.

She bent down on the mat after his hit and wrapped her arms around herself causing Damian to instantly panic.

“Marinette… Angel, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?” He reached out to put his hand on her head but she lightly smacked it away and turned her gaze up towards him.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? It’s okay for us to stop now, you did really well. I wasn’t expecting you to get out of the way so fast.”

In her mind Marinette was rolling her eyes, questioning how this boy could seriously think she’d already been injured not even a minute into their first round. If he had been less distracted trying to control himself so he didn’t hurt her, he would have been able to tell that he had barely tapped her and that she was totally playing him. She loved Damian more than life itself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t judge him for being so obliviously gullible. Time to knock his ego down a few pegs. “It’s fine, really. Let’s keep going.”

“You’re sure?”

“You heard the girl, stop being a pussy and fight your girlfriend like a man!” Jason teased.

“I don’t know if I would use this situation as a testament to his manhood…” Tim sighed.

Damian got back into position as Marinette nodded once more. He caught her eyes shifting to the left of him briefly before her gaze returned to his face so that when she moved her foot to take a step towards him, he was positive she would be aiming for his right. Trying to counter her obvious move, Damian side stepped and kicked towards her middle, once again finding himself surprised when he touched nothing but air as she dodged him. He immediately rebounded and launched a low kick behind him before turning and jabbing at her in successive bursts with each fist. One finally connected and he used the other hand to reach out to grab her arm, forcing her to duck towards the ground as he kicked towards her once more.

Marinette rolled to the right to dodge Damian’s kick, before pushing off the mat in a graceful back handspring and found herself face to face with him, a tiny smile forming as she caught his surprise.

He had not been expecting that move and he sure as hell wasn’t expecting her to sweep his legs out from under him before throwing herself down across his back, holding his shoulders to the mat with a strength he hadn’t known she was capable of possessing in her barely five foot tall frame. Try as he might, Damian found himself unable to raise his body up as she lay with her chest pressed up against him. He faintly noticed that she wasn’t breathing any harder than normal despite his efforts to move.

“One. Two. Three! First round goes to Marinette.” Alfred’s voice brought him out of his daze and he felt Marinette remove herself from the floor and stand up before moving away from him.

“I win!” She proudly exclaimed, waving to his brothers who were cheering her on from the sidelines.

Jason and Dick gave her thumbs up while laughing, knowing full well that Damian had been going easy on her. Still, she did manage to pin me and I didn’t think that was going to happen. I need to put a little more effort into this match than I thought.

“You didn’t win yet Angel, that round was just luck.”

“Well luck is kinda my thing so…” she winked and stuck her tongue out at him as he resumed his place across from her.

“Round two.” Alfred stepped back once more and lowered his arm. “Begin.”

Wanting to keep Damian on his toes, Marinette decided to strike first launching a punch towards his face with a high kick to follow.

Just as her toes connected with his cheek, Damian pushed her leg away with enough force to spin her around and swept a low kick to knock her off balance. Once again, she managed to somehow dodge him by using the momentum to jump over his kick like she was playing jump rope. Not willing to let her get behind him this time, Damian grabbed her shoulders and pulled her forward, causing the heroine to lose balance and fall into him.      

She lifted her knee, aiming for his crotch, but Damian expected the move from her being held in this position and grabbed ahold of her hands to spin her around so her back was facing him. Dodging a headbutt and before she could launch a backward kick, he gently lowered her to the ground in front of him and used a knee to hold her shoulders down. She reached a leg backwards to kick him off, but was too short to actually connect with any part of his body. Damian, being the man that he was, couldn’t help but notice her high level of flexibility. Muttering a curse as he felt her start to sit up, he, once again, gently applied pressure to the back of her neck with his hand to keep her face down on the floor.

“Winner, Damian!”

He stood up and extended a tanned hand down to help her to her feet and then stroked her cheek, tucking a stray strand of dark hair back behind her ear so it no longer fell across her face. “Guess your luck ran out, huh?” He smiled and leaned in to plant a small kiss on her forehead, but she stepped back and looked at him with a single eyebrow raised.

“That’s what you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she is completely screwing with you.” Tim’s laughter echoed through the gym, earning him a glare from the youngest Wayne.

“Excuse me?”

“Dude, she totally let you win that round.” Dick chimed in, already regretting his decision in the bet they had made. Marinette definitely had some hidden skills.

“Girl’s a freaking hustler!” Jason joined in on their teasing.

“What?” He turned from his brothers and found Marinette looking up at him with the face of an angel. “Are they serious?” She just kept looking at him with her eyes wide, lashes fluttering with feigned innocence. I just got played. “Weren’t you the one begging to see how you’d fair in a fight against me? Why would you purposely hold back?”

“I could ask you that same question.” She raised her hands up in exasperation. “You didn’t even try in the first round!”

“I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already had after that first kick!”

“You barely touched me and even if you had hurt me, I’m a big girl and I can handle a little pain.“ She felt her cheeks flush with anger as she moved back into her starting position. Chat had underestimated her back in France and it had led to him purposely throwing himself into danger more often than naught to keep her out of reach of the akumatized victims. She still firmly believed that his arrogance was the reason why it had taken so many years for the heroes to defeat and capture Hawkmoth and she wasn’t going to have a repeat of that situation here with Damian or the rest of the heroes of Gotham. She would show them that Marinette/Ladybug was an ally worth having around and not just some trinket they could keep in their back pockets for safe keeping. "Stop acting like I didn’t save Paris thousands of times, often on my own, over the last 3 years, nearly singlehandedly defeating a super-terrorist, and start treating me like you would anyone else you were practicing against!”

“You know what? Fine.” He let his mask as the Prince of Assassins fall into place and moved to face her on his starting mark. He would appease her curiosity, giving her everything he had from his seventeen years of training, and then tend to her wounds, both physical and emotional after the last round was over. “But I’m never doing this again.”

“As long as you take it seriously this time around, I’ll keep my promise and never ask again. But if you’re too scared to actually fight me, I’d forgive you. I won’t love you any less because of it.” Her smile was almost feral-something she had picked up from having Chat as her partner for so long- as she lowered herself into her fighting stance once more. She really hoped he wouldn’t hold back now. If she didn’t beat him when he was actually trying, he would never be able to let himself focus on anything else but her safety when they were out on patrol. More than her desire to be taken seriously and be respected for the hard work she had put in to be the hero she was, Marinette didn’t want to see Damian/Robin injured because he was trying to prevent harm from befalling her.

“While I appreciate how cute it is that you think you’re the scariest thing I’ve faced, I am absolutely not going to back down. I won’t be taking it easy on you this time either. Just remember to tell me if I’m too much for you to handle Angel.” He smirked and waved Alfred forward, eager to end this. The sooner she realized that he was there, willing and able, to protect her, the sooner they could go back to normal and stop the only disagreement the two of them had.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Alfred cleared his throat, briefly drawing the pairs’ eyes away from each other. “Round three. Winner decides the match’s victor.”

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