#nothing i do is ever good enough for the boss; she changes up the measurements of things all the time

[outcast-thingz]

....yeah no I think im done there (rant in the tags)

[felidacy]

Rogue system knowledge & Tim and Jason

@head-in-the-clouds27 regarding your question about if Talia will know about the Rogue system for Tim and if this change in Tim would also make the dynamic with Jason different got me thinking. So here is what I thought about. 

Rogue System & The League 

Tim is a natural snoop that makes unreasonable amounts of contingency plans as he goes, which is why he weasels himself into Barbara Gordon’s heart through lighthearted trash talk about Bruce & Dick and thirst for knowledge in order to learn more about computer science from day one. (Tim is not arrogant enough to think he could achieve the same level of greatness through the lack of a teacher.) As such, Tim learns about the League when he wasn’t supposed to know (really dumb of Bruce when Tim could be at risk, did he learn nothing?) when he snoops through the Batcomputer and decides then and there that attracting the interest from them is far too dangerous. 

Paired with the newly attained hacker knowledge and having no qualms about using questionable methods like gaslighting and blackmail, Tim uses that to control a large part of the Rogues underground. Unintentionally he becomes one of the big bosses in the crime family as he forces them to alter pieces of information, use codes that only they understand, and build up a cover-up to make it seem like they use it for every vigilante and not only for a tiny Robin. (Whoever doesn’t do as he is told is either being put into a trap with Batman arriving or Tim makes it through cleverly planned incidents and more gaslighting that the Rogues end up fighting each other. You would assume that they understood that quickly, but people are sometimes stupid and like underestimating Tim, and as such, some more drastic measures needed to be taken. In the end, though, they learned to listen after all.) 

It is that altered information that the League is only aware of because when they infiltrate some of the crime families to learn about the system, the plan never goes according to plan. Despite Talia’s strong suspicion of that bird, Ra’s has enough of losing good assassins for some measly system along with the unwanted attention of the Detective again that he orders them back. Talia is supposed to concentrate on their newest project that she put at risk because of Batman being too close for their liking now. (Talia does as she is told despite her dislike as she forms her new, little soldier through manipulation and honey-covered lies she whispers into his ears. With hundreds of years of knowledge, she knows just how to use pawns when it involves the pit.)

Jason and Tim’s first meeting

Like in canon because of the Red Hood’s appearance in Gotham, Tim is forced to leave for Florida and prohibited from leaving the Tower for an unknown amount of time. Tim does not mind that he is essentially skipping school for that time, however, he does mind that he was totally caught off-guard by the Waynes and as he was rushed through the Zeta tube he was unprepared. With the Waynes being unaware of his nature (granted that is on him 100% and isn’t it what he wanted) there is not enough time to take a lot with himself, which includes the much-needed packages of blood he regularly consumes to stay sane and, you know, alive. 

It isn’t much of a rebellion when he tries to escape out of the tower and much more of a healthy desire to live. Tim might not seem like it with his unhealthy tendencies, but he does have a stronger will to survive than a wet paperback. But as predicted with someone like Batman, the safety measures prove themselves to be fruitful and even Barbara does not want to help him out, instead reinforcing the system. It is completely unreasonable and overkill in Tim’s eyes when heroes from the Justice League show up when he does end up getting out by a sheer miracle. Finally meeting the Green Lantern he loved ever since he was small (Tim is in denial that he still is) isn’t worth it though with the follow-up lectures, but the worst ones are when Superman - who is practically like an uncle to the Waynes - shows up and gives him that disappointed puppy look. Even when the man isn’t his uncle because Tim is not a Wayne by any means, it has a deadly effect on him. And then come the messages from Dick that make Tim feel so guilty that he lets go of his stubbornness for once and plays obedient soldier. 

(Tim watched with rising panic as he depletes the little amount of blood resources that he had and a familiar feeling of hunger settles in him. Being alone and hungry was a familiar friend, if you could call it that, for Tim. But Tim had gotten so used to a different reality -although it was still slow going as both Bruce and Tim himself were hesitant- that it was now something that he dreaded.)

With very poor timing it is when Tim is at his worst that the Red Hood breaks into the Tower and comes across Tim. Not Robin, but Tim the monster. A boy that he heard a lot about through Talia and yet that boy before him then wasn’t quite as helpless and weak as he has been told. He had a familiar edge in his smile, in the way that his eyes seemed to stare straight into his soul and how he didn’t hesitate to grasp a knife as a weapon. (Robin was supposed to be the comfort, the sneaky surprise that struck when you least expect it. Not deadly dangerous. That wasn’t Jason or Tim, they were familiar with the darkness and didn’t hesitate to use it. They were a different kind.) None of that mattered to the Red Hood in that moment however. The pit hummed in satisfaction to have an evenly matched target that could keep up with its strength, though technique wise they were far different. The pit drowned out how similiar the two were, the pit only made the Red Hood see green and so incredibly angry. 

The Red Hood wasn’t the only one who was filled with an unexplainable surge of power, however. Tim fought viciously against the larger man who could count himself lucky with the helmet, because otherwise, Tim would have already ripped his throat open. He made do with the knife in his hand instead of his Bo-staff and he managed to hurt the Red Hood more than once, although none of the wounds are fatal enough to halter the man in his steps. Angry at that, the Red Hood managed to push Tim down the stairs where he crumbled into a mess along with his weapon when bones snapped. Groaning and cursing Tim was ready to get up again when he was shoved back down and the Red Hood took off the helmet. 

Jason Todd, his hero, his dead Robin stood before Tim. Not so dead after all. 

The reveal was a greater shock than when Jason leaned closer and spat a choice of words at the replacement. The pretender. The cuckoo that snuck into a nest he wasn’t supposed to have when he had his own family. Nevermind that it was a poor excuse of one. But Jason didn’t know anything about the truth. How could he? He didn’t know that he lost his mother long before she died of person. Didn’t know that the comatose state of his father was a mercy in disguise. Didn’t know that the Waynes didn’t even truly want him. Jason was angry at Tim and regardless of the explanations that he tried, the older didn’t want to listen to him any longer. 

As such, the slitting of his throat came quick like the strike of a viper. Jason didn’t care as Tim bleed out then and there. He left his message for the Bats and left without even sparing Tim another glance. That hurt more than it should have and it took Tim longer than he wanted to call back the logical part of his brain. Like, how he was in danger of dying. He activated his emergency beacon and hoped that Bruce and Dick would soon come, but Tim knew that his survival rate wasn’t great. (Vampires weren’t immortal despite popular belief in pop media. He had seen it with his mother after all. Vampires turned grey in a way no human could and not long after they would turn to ash. There was a reason that the Drakes were apparently always burned and not put in coffins.) Tim did not wish to die, so he did the only logical conclusion. Crawling to the knife that was kicked aside by Jason, he took the weapon in his slippery hands and prayed that all the blood on it was more from Jason than his own. His own would have proven to be useless. With probably not much time left, Tim licked the blood off from the knife even when it made his poor throat scream in more pain.

However, that was nothing compared to the following. Tim had never tasted such awful blood like then. It was rotten and slid down his throat like sludge, he needed to fight against the urge to throw it back up again. Forcefully he kept his mouth shut even when the heat set in. The usual healing effect of blood was cool and numbing to his body, but this blood scorched from his insides and decidedly did not start healing the wound. Being a naturally cold creature, the heat was nearly unbearable to endure. At first, Tim thought he misjudged and that he would die that die, but then he did realize that there was somewhat of an effect. While it didn’t heal the wound, it stopped the blood flow enough that he could outlive the attack. 

Later on Bruce, Alfred and Dick would wonder how Tim survived. They were thankful beyond belief, but there had been so much blood and Tim lied so cold and still that Dick fully expected to have lost another younger brother when he didn’t have the chance to protect him, again. Tim did not want to talk about that day, barely even spoke which was at first explained by the injury but later on put on as trauma. Tim would end up disclosing who the Red Hood was, but beyond that there was not a thing he explained. 

Dick caught Tim more than once staring into the mirror and looking at the scar, the first scar that was ever left on his body. Dick would try his best to cheer him up and explain that it didn’t make him ugly or anything, but Dick had no clue to the extent of how much it truly unsettled Tim. For the first time, the powers of his have failed. Tim wasn’t scared of the attack itself or what Jason had done, Tim was scared that it could happen again now. 

[concernedlily]

cousins wip 3

pt 1

pt 2

“You’re meeting with Khun Korn tomorrow,” Yaem tells him, right before he goes to do another shift at the bar. Losing himself in something familiar is helping, and it doesn’t hurt that he can be lightly buzzed enough not to really think from late afternoon onwards and still tell himself he’s doing something useful. 

She looks serious, maybe worried. “Am I free?” he says.

She looks even more serious. “Khun Porsche, when Khun Korn calls, you’re always free.”

He waits for her to leave to scowl. Why should he jump to Korn’s instruction? Kinn is the one doing the work, putting himself in danger; Khun is so out of it he’d faked his own damn death and Kinn had kept the world turning. Porsche doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to talk to him, doesn’t want to go to Khun’s house where he’d brought Porsche to - to play with him, to mess with him and let him fall in love with his cousin and put this damn ring on his finger. 

He fantasises briefly about killing the bastard. Kinn had been right, Porsche would never poison him: he’d rather see Korn <i>bleed</i>.

***

He spends the morning at Kinn’s tailors, running up an exorbitant bill on orders and then another exorbitant bill for them to ignore everything else to get one ready to wear suit into a state for him to wear it. He wants to look like Kinn looks at meetings, rich and careless and confident. 

He goes with a looser style than Kinn’s formal suits, cut rangier and coloured just a little more dramatic, in the best way: Porsche has never been vain about his looks, just used them as much as he had to, but he knows how to make bad clothes look good with a languid posture and a slink to his hips when he walks and a filthy smile. He wants something in between the sleaze of Vegas’ silky shirts and the conventionalism of the main family. He wants Korn to look at him and realise Porsche is going to be his own man.

The rust-coloured jacket fits his shoulders, chest and arms, and needs altering to fit his torso, and the trousers need taking in at the waist and letting down at the hem to accommodate the length of his legs, the assistant carefully noting down the measurements but telling Porsche he’ll have to come back to be fitted up properly if he wants real bespoke suits: he’d had no idea how long the process was. Arm ducks in at that point to murmur something to the assistant and Porsche watches a wad of notes change hands discreetly; Kinn’s jackets are all exquisitely cut to allow a shoulder holster. They whisk it off to adjust and give him the tight-fitting black underwear Kinn prefers, tactfully ignoring how long it takes Porsche to reach for them, and a white shirt he leaves unbuttoned even further than Kinn does.

He puts it all on Kinn’s account and walks out to his bike in the best look he’s ever had.

***

Kinn is waiting in the lobby when Porsche shows up. Of course, he thinks, with a sinking feeling: he’s reliant on Gear, but Gear isn’t his, not really, not the way he was Kinn’s or Chan was Korn’s; of <i>course</i> Gear is reporting back to the main family and Porsche was stupid for not realising it before.

Somehow the lobby looks perfect. Porsche had come along searching for Kinn and crossed it filled with bodies, bodies of Theerapanyakul bodyguards he <i>knew</i>, and hadn’t liked that much, mostly, because not that many of them had liked him, coming in as some nothing off the street fighting rings and messing around on the job even before he’d messed around with the boss. There had been the damage that happens to an immaculate marble-cream and white-flower building when a hit squad comes in with fucking automatic weaponry, the smell of gunpowder and fear-sweat and the heavy feeling of ghosts lingering for justice. The back of Porsche’s neck prickles thinking about it but there’s hardly any evidence of the attack at all. Theerapanyakul money has made it go away, pulled craftsmen off work in the city and into covering over the idea that they were ever hit, ever weak enough to be bloodied.

Kinn is looking angry and unhealthy. He’s lost weight he didn’t have to lose, his skin stretched tight over dehydrated muscles, and Porsche can’t help but shoot Arm an accusing look. Arm bows his head, looking guilty, but when Porsche looks properly at Kinn’s detail he doesn’t recognise any of them. Everyone who used to be close protection for Kinn is gone, dead or promoted or defected, and Porsche realises that enough of the long tail of guards that used to populate their wing must have died or been injured not to be able to backfill it easily. He looks properly and recognises Kinn’s bodyguards aren’t even from the family, like his, they’re wearing Lerttravinont pins. Tae is loyal to Kinn; he’s going to have to be or they’re all fucked. 

He wonders if he’ll recognise the people on Korn, when he gets up there. 

Kinn draws him off into an anteroom and Porsche lets him, even though just being alone with Kinn makes him want him so badly he can’t see straight. Kinn would drag him into rooms in the compound for stolen kisses all the time and sometimes more and Porsche’s stupid, betraying body <I>wants</I> that, wants to go so easily into Kinn’s arms and find his mouth and remind Kinn that people <I>care</I> that he’s healthy and safe, that he’s a person before he’s the heir. 

He knows it’s mutual. Kinn clearly appreciates Porsche’s new suit, his gaze running up and down Porsche’s body. He has to very obviously stop himself from pulling Porsche in for a kiss, his hands twitching hard when they close the door behind them on everyone else. 

“I wanted to give you this,” he says quietly. 

Porsche looks down at his lucky gun. “You want to arm me before I go see your father? Seriously?”

“Don’t,” Kinn says immediately, unhappy, sounding just as he had when he’d said it up in his mum’s room. “<I>Porsche</I>. Do I really need to worry? It would be open season on the minor family now if you killed my father.”

He can’t tell if Kinn is appealing to his duty to the minor family because he thinks that’s what will work on Porsche or whether he really can’t defend his father anymore. 

He says, “I can’t take your lucky gun.”

Kinn says softly, “It wasn’t the gun that saved me. I want you to have it.”

Last time he’d taken this gun off Kinn it was a commitment and a promise; that he was Kinn’s, that he’d come back to him. He doesn’t want Kinn’s lucky gun as a fucking memento. But holding the line on everything Kinn wants to give him is already exhausting enough, he can’t summon up the energy to refuse this if it’s what Kinn wants. 

“Thank you,” he says. 

Kinn raises his hand like he’s going to cup Porsche’s cheek, then hesitates, and Porsche had told himself they wouldn’t touch anymore but he’s unnerved about seeing Korn and Kinn is looking at him like he’s lost in the desert and Porsche is water, and Porsche is so lonely. The minor family is work and stress every second of the day and Kinn is familiar and sweet and he lifts his chin a little, giving Kinn his throat. Kinn makes a soft sound, like he’s grateful, and puts his big warm palm on Porsche, his thumb moving gently over Porsche’s cheekbone, stepping closer, and Porsche closes his eyes and turns into it helplessly. He can feel their breaths synchronising, he can feel Kinn near him, and he wants. He nuzzles into Kinn’s palm, presses a kiss there, and Kinn makes another noise, louder and more ragged, his other hand slipping onto Porsche’s waist. 

There’s a knock on the door. “Khun Korn is waiting,” Arm says tentatively. 

Kinn lets him go like he’s been burned. Porsche whines despite himself and the look Kinn gives him is hot, agonised, before he wipes it off, trying to look blank. 

“Good luck,” he says and Porsche shakes himself off, trying to get himself together. It was such a bad idea to be alone with Kinn just before he sees Korn, but in another way he’s more alert, juiced up, every cell firing like he’s been desperate and only half-alive and Kinn is his fix. 

He can’t even look at Kinn again, turning to leave, and he jolts when he feels Kinn’s hand on his lower back, his fingers spread. “Remember <I>you</I> are the head of the minor family,” Kinn says, low, warm behind Porsche in a way Porsche just wants to relax back into, let himself be surrounded and soothed. “You meet him as equals.”

Porsche nods sharply and lets himself out of the room, hiding behind Arm’s helpful shield as he smooths his suit, puts himself back together. 

There’s a slam on the door behind him as he walks away. Arm flinches and looks at him sidelong and Porsche bites down on his tongue and carries on like he doesn’t know what made it.

[yesimwriting]

Searing Starlight (chapter 3)

A/n I CANNOT believe how many people have supported this story,, I’m so excited to continue it with you guys :)) 

Just a reminder that while this is based off the show i hope to blend in some book aspects/vibes and this is just a fanfic and it won’t be completely accurate/follow the show 100% and any changes I make/parts I chose not to focus on are for the sake of the story I’m trying to tell 

-- 

I can’t tell if I wish Kaz had let me go with Inej or not. She’s faster than I am, and considering that I have no real reason to be loyal to them, I’m a flight risk. That means I’m stuck here with only the Kaz Brekker and Jesper, who I tricked. I hadn’t exactly befriended Inej entirely in the few minutes I was alone with her, but she seemed more trustworthy than them. More susceptible to reason. And when she heard where I was from, who was responsible for raising me, something in the way she watched me changed. It was the oddest combination--a look of both tired sympathy and cautious admiration.

“What I don’t understand…” Jesper breaks the silence. “Is why you all go back there. He lets you leave, he gives you money--there’s no reason to return.” 

I try not to let the question anger me. I shift awkwardly, scratching at my palm. “We tried leaving.” My stomach knots. “Once.” How do I make them understand? “He caught us because we young and stupid, and then he…” I exhale slowly. They’re just words. They don’t change anything. Whether I speak them or not, the events of my history aren’t different. “He picked the youngest, a girl only six months younger than me, and he slit her throat from ear to ear and took a finger of anyone that flinched as her blood splattered onto them. He said her blood was our penance and to live with knowing what we did to her would be our punishment.” 

I don’t tell them that I was twelve. I don’t tell them Anya lied about my birthday on the records. I don’t tell them I’m missing the very tip of my pinky--a small punishment for the twitch of my lip. “When Kenya is truly angry, he never hurts you--he hurts those around you.” No one responds to that. They’re making me seem like such a bummer. “It’s not awful all the time...he borders on agreeable when you listen to him.” 

Most days we have peace, left to our own devices as long as we accomplish certain goals. Their silence does little to unnerve me. After speaking so freely of such a nightmare, the desire to be rid of the taste of those words from my mouth is almost overwhelming, but I hold to the silence. 

“Why has he never sold you to the grisha that are so desperate for you?”

Of course Kaz Brekker would ask a question like that. “He isn’t the business of money, he’s in the business of creating gods. He indentures people he thinks could one day become saints or something else entirely. He wants to be owed by the heavens.” 

I watch Kaz carefully, a part of me curious about how someone like him could react to a goal like that. I can see him understanding the ambition of it all, but I can’t imagine himself a person of faith. Perhaps he’ll think it a clever trick. Perhaps he’ll even agree with Kenya.

He nods once; something I get nothing from. 

Whatever. He can be coy and distant this entire time. They all can. I’ll be out of here soon enough, and I’ll find Anya. And if I can stop something bad from happening to Alina then that’s a bonus I’m willing to take risks for. 

“That man is awful.” 

Inej’s voice comes from right behind me. I snap my head around. “You’re in here.” 

She nods once, oblivious to how shocking her sudden appearance is. She hands me a knapsack casually, staring at Kaz. “What’s the plan? We have six hours.” 

I look around the room, only seeing one closed window and one closed door. “There’s one door in this room.” 

“We take the Inferni to the ship.” He doesn’t even bother looking in my direction. 

Okay, they can be mean to be all they want but they can’t ignore me. I don’t think I’ve ever been ignored in my entire life. Gods in the making get attention. It may be the cruel attention of fate, but it’s something. 

“Did she come in through the window?” 

Again, I am ignored. 

“And then what, boss?” Jesper casually crosses the room, sitting down next to me on the small couch. It’s like I’m not even here. “We’d need to break into the Little Palace to get Alina.” 

What? “You guys are going to--” No. No. I am not kidnapping Alina. And there’s no way she’d be in the Little Palace. “First off--if you want to kidnap Alina Starkov for whatever insane ploy you’re all playing at, you’d never find her at Little Palace. She’s not a Grisha and second--” I cut myself off, standing from my seat. “Why am I even telling you this? I shouldn’t be helping you kidnap her.” 

Kaz’s eyes dart to me boredly. At least it’s some kind of acknowledgement of my existence. “I thought you two weren’t close.” 

I seriously consider scorching him. Just a little. Not even enough to scar him, just enough to get him to shut up. “She’s still a person who has a right to her body and what happens to it.” 

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but if we pull this off we get one million kruge.” 

What does he think I’m going to say? ‘Okay, well as long as you’re doing it for a good reason.’ Is that the response he expects. “Okay, well that makes it fair.” 

His eyes narrow skeptically, but Jesper is the one to ask, “Really?” 

“No,” I scoff, slumping back into my seat, “I was being sarcastic.” 

I drop my head back, neck craning over the back of the small couch. It isn’t exactly comfortable, but at least it makes it easier to ignore them. I’ve kept worse company for less. There’s an odd silence for a long second. I look forward without moving, I see Kaz vaguely gesture in Inej’s direction.

“Y/n,” Inej’s voice is refreshingly measured, “I think after the kinds of things we’ve gone through we understand that there’s some relativity in morality.” 

I shift my head to the right so I can look at her. “...Yes, but you’re just forcing another girl into a similar situation.” Why is Alina even worth so much? “And why would anyone pay so much for Alina?” 

Inej hesitates, glancing at Kaz and then back at me. “She’s a Sun Summoner.” 

On instinct, I straighten entirely, my body rigid. They’re insane. “You all are cracked if you think Alina’s a Sun Summoner.” No. No. It couldn’t be her. “Bless your hearts, seriously, she’s--she was trained to be a map maker--she’s not…” None of them relax, none of them shift in any way. What good would lying about this bring them? They have no reason to lie about this. “Saints, I should have had more to drink while downstairs.” 

So what if she’s a Sun Summoner? She didn’t ask to be one. She doesn’t deserve this. I cross my arms. “It doesn’t make this okay.” 

“And would it make it okay if you were getting a cut of the profit?” What? 

Kaz is looking at me in that tactful way. It takes all of my focus to not let myself become unnerved. “What?” 

“If I offered you a cut, would you be able to push aside more protests in order to make working with you easier?” 

Could I do it? Could I betray Alina? I drop my gaze away from his, opting to focus on the forgotten lantern on the coffee table in front of me. It flickers to life with no conscious prompting on my part. The flame is low and blue. Still though, Kaz notices it. What doesn’t he notice? 

“I can help you do what I agreed to.” I swallow around a lump in my throat, “But I cannot help you kidnap Alina.” 

The corner of his mouth tugs downwards. “We’re just going to get her to work with us.” 

“Work with you?” 

“We never said anything about taking her, and if Alina is really your friend you should know that the entire world is after her. Better us who can get her out of an unwanted situation quickly than the brutal General Kirigan who will hold her hostage until she does what he wants.” 

...I guess he has a point. “Oh.” I’m not naive enough to think that their methods will revolve around making Alina comfortable, but perhaps it’s not as dark as I assumed. “Maybe I was a little quick to assume…” I trail off awkwardly, looking at Inej for some type of reassurance. She avoids my gaze. 

I scratch the back of my arm, feeling like a spiraling child. I pick up my knapsack and place it on my lap, fiddling with the strap. 

“Come on,” Kaz stands, adjusting his grip on his cane, “We only have until sunrise.” 

As I stand, I pull down the skirt of my dress, suddenly aware of how inappropriate my clothing is for this late in the night. “Can--can I change first?” 

It’s a sheepish question, leaving me feeling like a child. 

“Five minutes,” Kaz offers, stepping out of the room with the rest of them. 

Inej leaves last, feet more silent than a cat. She offers me the tiniest hint of a smile. Despite my reservations, I beam at her. Something about me finds her politeness endearing despite it all. I think she closes the door loudly on purpose, to assure me of privacy. 

Normally changing in a building so full of drunk men would leave me nervous, but knowing Inej is outside leaves me feeling safe. I may not trust her with my life but something about her being tells me she values personal autonomy enough to protect it. 

I sift through the belongings Inej brought me. Clean underwear I try not think of her searching for, a thin white dress, comfortable pants, shorts, a few casual shirts, my red hood, and a nightgown. When I get to the bottom of the bag, and I see the personal belongings Inej smuggled back for me, I’m moved so powerfully my hand flies to my mouth on instinct. She had brought the folded up piece of paper with the only information I’ve been able to find about Kamil, the book I left on my nightstand, the small candle holder Alina had given me the day before I was taken away, the blade Mal had given me the day I left, the deck of playing cards Anya had first taught me to play with, and my mother’s necklace. The silver north star on a long chain. 

Before I can become too emotional, I take off the Crow’s Club T-shirt Inej had given me when I looked cold. I change into black pants, tucking the small blade Mal had given me into the pocket. The shirt I put on is pale blue, breaking the dark theme of everything around me. I fasten my red hood over my shoulders, basking in the familiar fabric. Lastly, I pull the north star necklace over my head, watching the blue orb with a black dot at its center blink at me in the light. I always found the stone at the pendant’s center odd. I'm quick to walk towards the door, nervous about what wasting their time could mean. 

“Let’s do this,” I sigh, pushing open the door. 

They all pause. Or maybe they were never moving. I try to imagine them interacting normally, but it’s hard to picture them as anything but intense and unflinching. There’s something odd about them, though, Jesper practically sulking and Kaz dropping his head despite Inej’s harsh stare.

“What kind of stone is in your necklace?” 

I swear to the Saints that if Kaz Brekker tries to steal it I’ll melt those leather gloves into his hands. “Try to take it and--” 

“That’s what I get for trying to make ‘polite conversation.’” He throws a look at Inej as he speaks the last two words. 

Wait--did Inej tell him to try to make polite conversation? Wait--more importantly, did he just kind of, almost say something that borders on casual? 

Wrinkling my nose, I let out a slight sigh. “Sorry.” 

His eyebrows draw together quizzically. “Did you just apologize for assuming I’d steal from you?” 

Great. Now I’m fully embarrassed. “Can we just go?” 

“Not before meeting me, I hope.” The stranger’s voice means nothing to me, but the others tense at it immediately. What? The man continues to walk forward, his steps too casual and confident for me to trust. The stranger is quick to respond to the question on my face, “Pekka Rollins.” 

--

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[seijorhi]

Acts of Devotion

👀 i um 👉 👈 i hope this is okay...

Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

TW blood, gore, violence, murder, dub con, nsfw

Akaashi loves you.

He’s known that for a long time now, probably from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, back when you were both just wide eyed first year uni students, wildly out of your depths.

A lot’s changed since then. For one, he now gets to call you his, and it’s his arms that you return to at the end of a long day, his house that you both live in. It’d be a lie to say that it doesn’t bother him that he wasn’t your first love, but he’s contented himself with the knowledge that he’ll be your last. Your only great love.

The only one that matters.

But it hasn’t been without its challenges. He’s learned a lot about love since those early days, about what it means to truly devote yourself to somebody, to give everything you have for them.

Love essentially boils down to two things, Akaashi’s come to realise - sacrifice, and forgiveness. 

You always look so beautiful when you’re sleeping. Of course, Akaashi thinks you’re beautiful all the time; when you’re smiling and laughing, when your face is screwed up in petulant anger, when those pretty eyes of yours well with tears and they glimmer and shine - but there’s something about the peaceful expression, so soft and unguarded when you’re asleep that inexplicably draws him in. 

There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to stay, to reach out and brush away the hair that’s fallen across your face, pull you closer and let sleep drag him under, but he can’t. 

Not tonight.

Instead he cranes his neck to press a kiss against your lips, a small smile tugging at his lips when you let out a quiet mewl in response. He loves you so, so much… that’s why he has to do this.

He’d forgive you anything. You know that, don’t you?

Sure, it hurt him when he found the messages. Scrolling back through your text history, it was like somebody had grabbed him by the throat and plunged a knife into his gut, twisting it for good measure.

Kaito i don’t know what to do

i love him but lately it feels like idk he’s being a little controlling i guess? 

… but maybe i’m just being paranoid?

He knows it’s not entirely your fault. For all the amazing qualities you possess, you are remarkably naive and so very, very impressionable - which worked to his favour in the beginning, he’ll be the first to admit, but now…

Now it’s becoming a problem.

You haven’t realised yet that everything Akaashi’s doing - it’s all for your own good. 

Your family wanted you under their thumb. They always asked too much of you, guilt tripped you whenever you tried to stand up for yourself or set boundaries. They’d never be happy for you, not truly. It hurts, he knows that, but some people don’t deserve to be in your life, especially when they treat you like that. 

Your job was causing you stress, and your boss was an arrogant, nasty piece of work. His salary is more than enough to support you both, why put yourself through that if you don’t need to? Aren’t you happier now that you don’t have to trudge into that office every day and pretend that it isn’t making you miserable?

Your friends were bad influences. Jealous of your relationship for one, but they were also petty, self absorbed and vapid, always trying to drag you down to their level so you wouldn’t ever outshine them. You’re better off without them, why can’t you see that?

Akaashi’s the only one you’ll ever need.

And he really thought that he’d solved that little problem, but apparently not. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that out of all of them, Kaito’s the one who’s been the hardest to shake. An old friend of yours from high school, Akaashi had known within five minutes of meeting him that he was head over heels in love with you and had been for a long, long time. 

He can’t blame him for that. You’re beautiful. Perfect. Entirely his. It’s painfully obvious that even before he came into the picture to sweep you off your feet, you’d never so much as looked twice at the guy. So Akaashi was more or less content to let his somewhat pitiful one sided crush on you slide. Considering that he had absolutely no intentions of letting him or any of your other friends remain part of your life for much longer, it was hardly worth wasting energy thinking about.

Until, that is, he read the messages that Kaito’s been sending you.

Leave him

I’m serious. 

My sister had a friend who was with a guy like that. She had to get a restraining order because he wouldn’t let her go - it got scary… You can come stay with me. I don’t want you getting hurt :(

It’s that last one that bothers him. Not the attempts to lure you away from him under the guise of being a safe haven from your ‘dangerous’ boyfriend, painting himself as your knight in shining armour - mildly irritating if not a little amusing - but for putting the idea in your head that Akaashi would ever hurt you.

That he can’t forgive.

He won’t have you look at him with fear in your eyes. 

Akaashi’s never tried to deny that side of himself, but he’s kept it from you, locked it away and buried it deep. The things he does… you’re too pure for that. He loves you, loves the way that your eyes still soften when you catch sight of him, the warm, trusting naivety that bleeds out of your every pore. If you knew what the hands that caressed you so gently had done, would you still beg for his touch?

You wouldn’t, he knows that just as he knows that even if you were to uncover the truth, he wouldn’t let you go. He can’t, you’re his.

Is it really so selfish of him to want to preserve that innocent naivety? 

But it seems like now he’ll have to indulge once again, and Akaashi, really, truly can’t say that it bothers him. Killing other people has always thrilled him, made the blood in his veins race… Killing other people for you, oh, that’s going to be a whole other level of pleasure he can’t wait to explore. 

The pads of his fingers trace the curve of your jaw for just a moment. “Back soon,” he whispers, gracing your cheek with a feather light kiss.

You’ve never asked why the door to the basement locks from both sides, he doesn’t even think you realise that the walls are soundproofed. Tonight he’s grateful. You won’t wake up, he’s almost positive of that, but Akaashi has no desire to be gone from your side for any longer than absolutely necessary.

He usually prefers to take his time. 

His first kill was more of an accident than anything else, there was too much blood, he panicked and it was over in the blink of an eye. There wasn’t time to savour it, to really enjoy the sight of the light leaving their eyes, the weak, desperate struggles and whimpers, the tantalising fear that inevitably bleeds into the air, growing more potent by the second - even the strongest break eventually. He’s learned since then how to draw it out, how to have fun with his work.

But he doesn’t have that luxury tonight, and, as he keeps having to remind himself, this isn’t about his pleasure.

Guns are quick. Messy. Akaashi’s never really taken a liking to the crude, graceless weapon. He prefers his knives. 

Waving a gun in somebody’s face gives them the idea that they’re going to die, and there are only so many times that you can shoot somebody before they just… bleed out. It’s not nearly as satisfying a death. A knife, on the other hand, brings with it more opportunities. It isn’t death that his victim becomes worried about, at least not initially, but pain. And as his hand glides over his collection, Akaashi decides that Kaito is due for a little pain.

I love him, you’d texted. I love him. I love him. I love him.

That’s what he’s trying to protect. 

Long, pale fingers wrap around the handle of his chef’s knife, (eight inches, sharp - a familiar, comforting weight in his hand) and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

Kaito’s mouth is taped shut. Akaashi doesn’t want to hear a filthy word out of those lips. His hands are bound behind his back, his ankles tied to the old, wooden chair. He’s good with his knots, the more Kaito struggles, the tighter they pull. And judging from the ugly, purpling shade of his hands and the tears leaking from bloodshot eyes, he’s been struggling for a while.

Good.

Akaashi smiles as he strolls towards his captive audience, fingering the straight edge of the knife. Kaito doesn’t try to speak, but the muffled whines and sobs grow louder with every step closed between them. The fear and tension in the air is palpable. 

His breath is little more than a frantic wheezing by the time Akaashi stops in front of him and drops into a crouch. Cool, gunmetal blue eyes meet Kaito’s deep brown ones, blown wide with terror.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he admits quietly. 

Looking up at him from beneath long, dark lashes, a faint smile on his lips, Akaashi could almost pass for an angel if not for the gleaming kitchen knife in his hand. Kaito pales, his entire body going taut as his gaze slides from Akaashi’s face to the gleaming blade in his hand. He shakes his head in desperation, another muffled scream escaping his gag-

Akaashi strikes fast, like a viper. The blade plunges into the meat of Kaito’s thigh and without an ounce of mercy, Akaashi yanks it back towards his knee.

The scream that rips through the air sends a pleasurable shiver of warmth down his spine, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he feels the muscles beneath him convulse. The gash isn’t too long, maybe a few inches, but it’s deep and Akaashi’s smirk only grows as warm blood gushes from the wound, coating his hand in slick vermilion. 

He tugs the knife free, rewarded with another choked howl from his captive as more blood sprays. Bound to the chair, there’s not a whole lot of room for Kaito to move, but it’s somewhat amusing to watch him try to thrash, escape the white hot agony radiating from his thigh through his entire body. It’s hard for the human body to comprehend that level of pain, and from experience, Akaashi’s well aware that it won’t take long for his body to go into shock and simply shut down from the blood loss, and once that happens, he won’t be of much use to anyone. 

Kaito’s trembling, face pale, his skin clammy. Impossibly black pupils swallow his irises whole, erratically tracking his captor’s every movement as Akaashi pushes himself to his feet and takes a moment to study him. Tears and bubbles of snot leak in a disgusting mix down his jaw, dripping onto his lap as he sobs against his bindings. It’s pitiful, seeing a man reduced to a whimpering, terrified wreck, but as the hand still holding his knife grips at his chin and yanks his face closer, Akaashi can’t help but gleefully drink it all in. 

Your would be knight in shining armour doesn’t look quite so strong and capable now, does he?

Akaashi doesn’t have much time left to make him suffer, but he can’t seem to resist trailing his fingers along Kaito’s injured leg, digging them deep into the ruined muscle - grinning wildly when he convulses and screams, arching up off the chair. 

There’s still so much that he’d like to do. He toys with the idea of taking his tongue, of carving his knife deep into his skin just to watch him whimper and bleed… but no. This isn’t about indulgence. This is about you. He has to have more discipline than that.

Dangling on the edge of consciousness, Kaito meets his gaze one last time. Maybe he senses that his death is close, or maybe he’s just searching for a last minute reprieve, mercy from the cold blooded killer before him. Terrified, agonised, delirious from the blood loss, he tries to speak - a plea, he thinks, or maybe just incomprehensible babbling, but his eyes burn into Akaashi’s, desperate and hollow.

Akaashi’s never been one for theatrics. He won’t waste more time monologuing while your friend clings to the last vestiges of life. If Kaito hasn’t guessed by now the reasons he’s ended up here, at Akaashi’s mercy, he’s far less intelligent than he gave him credit for, but he supposes that he owes him something, at least. 

“I love her,” he says with a small shrug, as if it explains everything.

And maybe it does. 

It hardly matters though, as Akaashi decides to finally end it with a vicious slice across his throat. Blood sprays like a fountain, splattering across the room and drenching him, Kaito’s body slumps in his seat, the last flicker of life slowly snuffing out, and Akaashi revels in the pure, sweet euphoria that floods his system.

He’s never killed anybody while you were home with him before. Normally he’s methodical, quick to clean up whatever mess is left behind. Tonight though, Akaashi doesn’t have the patience for all that.

He should at least take a shower, rid himself of the blood that soaked him to the skin, but the call of your arms, the sweet, soft floral scent he longs to drown himself in beckoning is too hard to resist. He sheds his clothes, casting them aside haphazardly along with the bloody knife as he stalks down the hallway to the bedroom. His heart is still racing, excitement drumming through his veins as he crawls onto the bed and slides the covers off of you.

Dimly, he registers that this is a monumentally bad idea, but all he can think about is the vivid memory of the light leaving Kaito’s eyes and you. Tonight, he killed for you, and it was exhilarating.

He doesn’t think he could stop himself even if he wanted to, and why would he want to?

You’re perfect, beautiful - his. Nothing and nobody will ever be able to separate the two of you, he’ll kill anybody who tries. 

You stir a little as Akaashi’s lips graze along your skin, his fingers sliding the silk of your nightgown up over your hips.

“‘Kaashi?” you sleepily murmur, trying to blink heavy eyelids open.

He wonders if you can feel the way his bloodstained hands are trembling as they ease your supple thighs apart. “Shh, baby,” he presses a kiss against your leg as he manoeuvres himself between them, “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”

Let me take care of you. 

He needs this.

[writingblock101]

Still Insufferable (Damian Wayne x Reader)

This is a part two to Insufferable! I had an anon request this a while back and found some prompts that gave some great inspiration! Hope y’all like it! You don’t need to read part one, but it does make the transition smoother. For reference, you and Damian are 17. 

Words: 2,800 

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013

Warnings: None

“Do you ever follow directions?” A familiar, condescending voice asks you from the ground. 

You spot an annoyed Damian Wayne from your upside perch, staring up at you with crossed arms. You grin, a little too excited to see someone who looks so annoyed with you. 

“I’m creating an extensive target practice!” You claim, gesturing with your bow to the targets down range

“By hanging upside from the rafters?” Damian raises an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“You’re questioning my methods.” 

“I’m not questioning it,” Damian corrects. “I’m saying it’s stupid.” 

You gasp in mock offense then unhook your legs and flip to the floor. 

“Your words wound me!” 

“You’ll recover,” Damian says dryly. 

“I thought you would approve of me making a more comprehensive training.”

“You were hanging upside down from the rafters. How is that more comprehensive?” Damian questions.

“Because I don’t always get the pretty shot with the perfect set up in the field!” You argue. “Sometimes, I’m making the shot while hanging upside down with a broken toe!” 

Damian pauses, his eyes flickering to your feet. 

“Is your toe broken?” He asks.

He almost sounds concerned. It’s kind of sweet. 

“No,” You admit. “But what if it was?” 

He blinks. The concern is gone. 

“You spend too much time with Roy and Jason.” 

“Well, Roy is basically raising me at this point, so yeah, kind of,” You point out. 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“Mission briefing.” 

“Aw, you came all the way here to tell me yourself,” You tease Damian, aware of the various intercoms around the Tower.

He scowls at you, but doesn’t dampen your good mood. 

“I was the closest to the range. It made the most sense for me to come tell you.” 

“No need to make excuses,” You shrug. “I get it, I’m amazing and you can’t resist being around me.” 

“You’re insufferable.” 

“You know, that line didn’t fool me when we were 12 and it’s still not fooling me now.” 

Damian’s scowl deepens. 

“Mission briefing, now.” Then he walks off before you can make another smart ass comment. 

Sometimes, Damian makes it too easy. You hit the switch to pull the targets back in, figuring you’ll get your arrows later. 

You’ve been an official Teen Titan for a few months now. After Roy talked you into tagging along with the team for a mission, you were hooked. The rest of the team agreed to extend an invite to you, which you happily accepted. You love the team, including Damian. Despite your constant bickering, you and Damian work well together in the field, enhancing each other’s skills. 

In all honesty, you really enjoy being around Damian. While he’s a bit uptight, when he relaxes, he’s fun to be around. You’ve enjoyed getting to see the more relaxed side of Damian. Besides, it's fun to have someone who keeps up with every sarcastic remark you make, even if it includes him calling you insufferable. It’s a bit of a long shot, but you know Damian likes you more than he makes it seem he does. 

You head to the main conference room of the tower and settle in for a long presentation. While the briefings are long, and rather boring, they’re in depth. You have to give Damian credit, even when things go wrong on missions, his extensive briefings prepare your team for almost every possibility and help make adaptations to the plan on the fly. 

You fiddle with a pen, unscrewing it, laying out the pieces then put it back together as Damian talks. As you get more fidgety the longer the meeting goes on, Damian wordlessly slides a new pen over to you with a slightly different composition. You smile at him and busy your hands with taking part the new pen. Damian’s cheeks darken slightly, but before anyone can notice, he’s back in leader mode. 

Damian pulls up the blueprint, running through everyone’s role and position for the mission.

“And Black Falcon, you’re with me, handling guards on the roof and additional security measures.”

“The dream team,” You grin with a wink.

Damian rolls his eyes and ignores your remark. Instead, he fields any questions then dismisses the team. You glance down at the file briefing in front of you then remember one last question for Damian. As a few Titans clear out, you wander to the front of the room where Damian is studying the blueprint from the presentation. 

“Hey, boss man,” You wave your file at him. “This building is using the Kingsley Security system. What are your thoughts about debuting the new hacking arrows?” 

Damian frowns, flipping to the page with the schematics concerning the security system. 

“How effective is the firewall on the arrows?” 

“If you’re worried about them tracking back to us, the arrows’ firewall should be strong enough to erase our trail.” 

“Should be?” Damian raised an eyebrow. 

“They’ll be fine, but I don’t like to make guarantees.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because sometimes, shit happens.” 

“I don’t like variables.” 

“Well, Dames, I’ve got bad news for you about how life works.” 

You cross your arms, leaning your hip against the table. 

“I don’t like variables on my missions when lives are on the line,” Damian says, scanning over the Kingsley credentials. 

“We’re connected to a computer with the highest level of security to currently exist. Even if they manage to trace back the arrows, they won’t get far.” 

Jon and Colin watch you two bicker about arrows and security.

“He likes having someone to argue with way too much,” Colin mutters to Jon. 

Jon nods along. 

“You’re telling me. He’s not going to do anything about it though.” 

Colin cracks a grin. 

“He’s just gonna roll his eyes and tell her she’s insufferable.” 

Jon and Colin snicker, catching Damian’s attention. He narrows his eyes at the two who sit innocently. 

“Listen,” You bring Damian’s attention back to you. “It’s your mission and I’ll respect whatever you want to do, but the only way for me to improve the arrows design is to test them.” 

“I’ll consider it,” Damian says. 

His phone lights up with notification on the table. Your eyes dart toward the light and your eyebrows go up. Damian catches your eye and snatches his phone off the table with red cheeks.

“Am I your lock screen?” You ask with a small grin. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Damian shoves his phone in his back pocket. 

“Really?” Your grin grows as your eyebrows move higher. 

Jon and Colin watch with shit eating grins. 

“Grayson set it,” Damian growls. “I haven’t bothered to change it.” 

“Sure, he did,” You nod. “It’s a cute picture.” 

The picture is after Damian and Bruce got into a huge argument, bad enough that Damian called Dick to get him out of the Manor. Dick figured it would be a good day to give Damian a childhood experience he missed out on and decided to take Damian to a theme park. Knowing you were in town with Jason while Roy was handling some business in Gotham, he talked Jason into bringing you. While at the park, Dick insisted you and Damian needed to try a funnel cake since neither of you had ever had one. 

You and Damian decided to split one since Dick warned you they were pretty sweet. When you and Damian tried your first bites, Damian’s face instantly scrunched up which made you laugh and Dick managed to catch the moment on camera. 

Damian scowls at you while you just grin. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone and ruin your reputation,” You laugh, leaving the room. 

Damian scowls at you as you leave and returns his attention to collecting his files. 

“Ah Dames, get that look off your face, we all know how you feel,” Jon teases. 

Damian turns, scowling at Jon. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Sure you don’t,” Colin rolls his eyes. “We can all tell you like Y/N.” 

“She’s--”

“Insufferable,” Jon finishes. “Yeah, we know. You know, just because you keep saying it, doesn’t mean it’s actually true.” 

“And you know, we get it, you’re a condensing, uptight dick--” Colin starts to rattle off. 

“Why does everyone assume the worst of me?” Damian scowls at Colin. 

“It saves time,” He grins at his friend. “But, despite those things, you can be charming when you want to be. And if you actually acted on that charm, Y/N would agree to a date with you.” 

Jon stares at Colin for a minute, looking unimpressed then turns to Damian. 

“My advice is much more subtle. Stop being an ass.” 

“I didn’t ask for advice,” Damian growls. 

“We are aware and we also are aware that you never will,” Colin nods. 

“Why not let yourself be happy, Dames?” Jon asks. 

“I am happy,” Damian glares at the two of them then walks out of the room, tired of hearing their advice. 

“Think he’ll listen?” Colin asks. 

Jon shrugs. 

“Who knows.” 

. . . 

Your back hits the ground but you roll to the balls of your feet, breathing hard. You tighten your grip on your bo staff, ready to lunge for another hit when you notice Damian walk into the training room. As he walks toward you, you straighten up and grab your water, figuring it’s time for a break. Damian raises his eyebrows at your bo staff. 

“That’s not your normal choice in weapons,” He observes. 

You shrug, taking a swing of water and ignoring your cheeks heating up. While you wanted to expand your training, you’ve seen Damian using a bo staff a lot. He seems to like them so you figured you’d give them a shot. Besides, Tim has given you a few pointers. 

“Decided to try something new,” You say casually. 

Damian quirks an eyebrow, but says nothing else. 

“I’ve been thinking--” He starts. 

“A dangerous pastime,” You nod solemnly. 

Damian glares at you but continues, as if he didn’t hear your sarcastic comment. 

“We have a strong enough firewall on the computer in the Tower that if your arrows malfunctioned, we could detect and fight a security breach.” 

“So, I can bring them on the mission?” You finish. 

“Yes.” 

“Sweet!” You grin, pumping your fist. 

Damian rolls his eyes again at your celebration, but you can see him trying not to smile. He turns to leave, but you look back at the bo staff you were training with. 

“Wait! Damian!” You call. 

He turns, looking at you with raised eyebrows. 

“You’re better with a bo staff than I am,” You admit. “Wanna help me out?” 

Damian’s eyes flicker between you and the bo staff. You see a small smile fighting its way onto his face. 

“I’ll change into something more suiting for training.” 

You grin, spinning the staff around you then go into a mock solute. 

“Yes, commander.” 

Damian rolls his eyes again, but leaves to change. 

. . . 

You swing your staff up hard, but Damian blocks it and swipes at your legs with a low kick. Grinning as he falls into the expected move, you flip your staff around and hit Damian’s side. He grunts and moves again, this time, landing a hard blow to your arm. You grimace at the force, but swing your staff around again and manage to knock Damian’s legs out from under him with a move he showed you. 

Damian hits the ground hard with a grunt, but instead of rolling to his feet for another hit, he lays on the ground, looking a little dazed. 

“I got it!” You cheered as Damian sits up, watching you with a small smile. 

“Drive your hips more so the power doesn’t come from your arms as much,” He instructs. 

“You know, with all the archery I do,” You flex a muscular arm. “I’m pretty sure my arms are stronger than my hips at this point.” 

Damian rolls his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet. You swear you sees his eyes lingering on your flexed arm. 

“Basic anatomy,” He claims. 

“Right, your definition of “basic” and a normal person’s is pretty different.” 

Damian raises an eyebrow at you. 

“How do you mean?” 

You narrow your eyes. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I don’t,” But the slow start of a shit eating grin on his face tells you Damian knows how you meant that statement. 

You groan, throwing your hands up. 

“Okay, fine, Wayne. I’ll give it to you, you’re pretty smart.” 

“Am I now?” Damian full on grins, making your heart flutter. 

You roll your eyes again, despite your raised heart rate. 

“I’m not going to say it again.” 

“I didn’t think you would. It doesn’t change the truth.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. 

“Why do I still like you, knowing you’re a total asshole?” You question as you walk toward your water. 

Damian freezes for a moment, your words slowly mulling over in his head. Before he can say anything else, his watch beeps. Damian looks down at it with a scowl.

“Duty calls?” You ask, handing Damian his water. 

He looks up from the notification and nods. 

“Get dressed, we leave in ten minutes.”

. . . 

Following your normal post mission tradition, you relax on the roof with a few boxes of take out. You dig into your box of fried rice, enjoying the view as your legs dangle over the edge of the huge tower. The roof access door opens and someone sits next to you but you don’t have to turn to see who. Wordlessly, you hold out Damian’s vegetarian Lo Mein which you took the courtesy to grab while he showered after the mission. 

“Your arrows worked,” Damian comments, accepting the box from you and digging in with his own chopsticks. 

“Mmhm,” You hum with a smirk. “Told you.” 

Damian rolls his eyes. 

“Of course you wouldn’t be able to resist making a childish remark.” 

You grin, nudging Damian’s shoulder. 

“You knew I already knew the arrows worked. You just wanted to hear me say it.” 

“I absolutely did not.” 

“Sure you didn’t. I’m irresistible.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Damian corrects. 

“I still don’t believe that line.” 

“Your belief does not change the truth.” 

You laugh, leaning against Damian as you both continue eating, enjoying the view and each other’s company. After the first time Damian joined you on the roof, it became both of your traditions to enjoy your post mission meals together. Later, you would rejoin the team for game night or movie night, but for now, you two enjoy your quiet meals and unwind peacefully. 

Once your meals are finished and the boxes are discarded to the side, you scoot closer to Damian, resting your head on his shoulder. He slowly places a hand on your knee, seeming a bit uncertain. You smile to yourself and squeeze his arm, scooting a little closer to encourage him. He leans into you, seeming more relaxed by the affection. 

“You know,” You finally say after a few minutes of silently watching the sun set. “I turned out liking you a lot more than I originally planned.” 

“How much did you intend to like me?” Damian asks.

You feel him starting to go stiff. 

“Well, given you insulted me when I first met you,” You point out with a shrug. “I didn’t expect to like you very much.” 

“And now?” Damian asks hesitantly. 

You lift your head from Damian’s shoulder to look at him, your noses inches away.

“Now, you’re pretty alright,” You tease, admiring his pretty green eyes. 

Damian rolls his eyes with a small laugh. 

“Just alright?” He asks, squeezing your knee lightly. 

“Well,” You shrug again, feeling your heart pound. “Maybe a little more than alright.” 

You stare at each other for a long moment until Damian’s eyes flicker to your lips. Here goes nothing. Before you can bring yourself to regret, you close the small distance between each other and press your lips to his. He’s hesitant for a moment, stiff against you. Before you can pull away, Damian’s fingers sink into your hair, pulling you closer as he kisses you back. 

You melt into the kiss and grip his shirt tightly. As he shifts his head to deepen the kiss, a voice yells from behind you: 

“It’s about time!” 

You and Damian jump apart, still holding a hand on each other to see Jon standing by the roof access door. Damian scowls at him while Jon grins like he’s just won the lottery. 

“You have no idea how annoying it was so watch you two pretend like you don’t like each other,” Jon rolls his eyes. “Come on, we’re starting game night.” 

He disappears back through the door as you look back at Damian. 

“Well, duty calls,” You joke, sliding off the ledge. 

Damian turns, catches your wrist, and tugs you back to him.

“They can wait,” He mutters to you, kissing you again. 

You happily melt into the kiss, your hands on Damian’s chest as his hands slide to your hips. 

“Am I still insufferable?” You tease against Damian’s lips. 

He smirks, standing to his feet and pulling you close by your waist. 

“Yes,” He kisses you again. 

I’ve been writing things as I get inspiration. I think I’ll be compiling a prompt lists soon because I have some request... They are really big ideas and I don’t think I can take on any projects that big right now. I hope you enjoyed! 

[justkending]

Moral of the Story. Chapter Five.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky x Y/N

Word Count: 3200+

Chapter Five:

Once the meeting was done and over, Bucky and Y/N both left at the same time. Bucky was kind enough to hold the door open for her as they made their way back to the street, but Y/N’s goal was to get back to her car as quick as possible. So she gave him a curt thank you and moved quickly to leave. 

“Y/N!” Bucky shouted just as she was less than 10 feet away. She paused with a cringe on her face before turning back to him. He was walking hesitantly to catch up with her. “Listen, I know it’s been a few years.”

“A few is an understatement,” she mumbled and he heard, but decided to move on. 

“I just- I,” he stuttered. What the hell was he doing? “Would you want to get coffee? Catch up some? I-,” Before he could finish, she cut him off. 

“Listen, as great as that sounds,” she tried to say nicely, but he could see the nerves in her face. “I actually have plans right after this.” He deflated some in his spot. She noticed and though she thought she wouldn’t care if she hurt him after all these years, something deep down proved that thought was wrong. “I-I just haven’t seen my family in a while, and the little time I have left here this weekend, I wanted to spend time with them where I could.”

“Right, right,” Bucky tried to brush off unbothered, but failed. “I’m sure your dad misses you, and you him.”

“Yeah, it’s been a few years. That and I haven’t been back in the city in 10 years, so I have a lot to catch up on,” she nodded. 

“Wait, you haven’t been back here in 10 years?” he asked shocked. He thought she had a least been in town throughout the years. Even if he hadn’t seen her. 

“Um, yeah. I kinda…” she hesitated, but figured where would the truth hurt? “Guess I wasn’t ever really ready to get back here.” Bucky knew what she meant even if she wasn’t saying it verbatim, and it hurt his heart knowing he was the cause. Well, I guess both of them were, not just him. “That plus starting up Horizon, it was hard the first few years. But the family still sees each other for the holidays.”

“That’s right. Colorado,” Bucky nodded. 

Y/N had kept forgetting for some reason that Bucky and her father were with each other at least once a week most of the time. Always hanging out and doing guy things, or really, father and son types of things. Meaning he knew of, if not actually knew, Sherri, Denise, John, and Chloe too. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t know about the yearly Colorado trip. 

“Right,” Y/N nodded with pursed lips, putting it all together and Bucky realized. 

“Oh, God sorry. I promise I’m not stalking you, it’s just your dad and I-” he started to defend his knowledge. 

“It’s fine James, really,” she said with a wave of her hand and a slight chuckle. One he never expected coming from her. And the name… He wasn’t sure the last time he heard her say Bucky. As soon as they decided to bring an end to their relationship, that nickname never passed her lips again. “I know you and my dad are close.”

“You’re not upset at that?” he asked, slightly confused. 

“I’m not evil. No matter how much you may think,” she mumbled the last part. “I-I… I know the relationship you two share. You’ve had it since the beginning of time practically. I wouldn’t dream to take that from either of you.”

Bucky didn’t respond. Because all he could do was look at her with a longing look. God, he missed her. Sure he held some anger from where they ended things, but he had moved on for the most part. Now he just missed his best friend. The girl he grew up loving. From best friends to girlfriend, to eventually fiance and wife. He missed her. Just who she was as a person when resent wasn’t a feeling she had toward you. 

Sure, it was a lot to think back on in just the thought that she still cared for him enough not to banish her father from him, but it spoke volumes for who she was as an individual and he missed that. 

“I mean not that I really have a say in other people’s life, but if I did, I wouldn’t do such a thing,” she looked down, fidgeting in her spot seeing him staring at her like earlier all over again. 

“I know you wouldn’t,” he responded, quickly noticing his stare and looking down at his own shuffling feet. “Well, in that case, I’ll let you go. Thomas has been excited beyond measures to have you home. I won’t keep you from him.”

She nodded as they made eye contact again and started to turn back to her car. But before she could get too far, knowing this may be the last time he sees her again for a while, if not ever, he had to say it. 

“Y/N?” She turned at her name and sent him a questioning look. “I’m glad you’re doing ok. You seem to really be taking the world by storm like you always were going to,” he smiled softly and she blushed some before returning the smile. 

“Thank you, James. You too. You seem like you’re doing some pretty amazing things yourself,” she nodded once. 

They didn’t speak more than that, but instead walked back to their cars. Not without a second glance here and there. 

___________________

“So? How did it go?” Thomas asked as soon as Y/N walked in through the garage door. Him and Sherri sitting at the breakfast nook with cups of coffee in hand and wide eyes ready for all the details. 

“It went,” she responded, throwing her purse on the island bar stool and going to make a mug for herself. 

“Wow, such a colorful description. Anything more and she’d be over doing it,” Thomas exaggerated, getting a giggle from Sherri who stood up and joined Y/N’s side grabbing the creamer and sugar for her. 

“Come on now, sis. Good? Bad? Magical?” she added the last word with flare. 

“Anything besides magical,” she sent a playful glare to the woman. “I will say this though.” She walked over and sat with a huff in the nook across from her father, practically deflating in her seat. “I am still technically Mrs. Barnes.”

“What?!” they both gasped. 

“How?” Thomas pushed on. 

“Well I guess the meeting today was just to update the papers and nothing else. I mean, yeah. A few signatures here and there, but it’s not finalized.”

“So it was just an revision meeting? When’s the final cut?” Sherri asked, leaning on the back of Thomas' chair. The two watching their daughter with intrigued eyes. 

“A few days?” she said more in a question. “Matthew, our new lawyer, said him and his partner are going to update them within the next day or so, and then send us the final write up to sign. After we send those back in, it’ll all be settled.”

“You still going to have John overlook everything for extra measures?”

“Never hurts. I really would rather NOT go through all this mess again. Getting divorced once sucks, but twice? Yeah, I’d rather not have to do it a third time. And all with the same man,” Y/N sighed heavily before taking a long chug of her coffee. 

The couple ahead of her sending each other a silent message to the other. Y/N hadn’t noticed as she closed her eyes at the upcoming headache, and even if she had, she wouldn’t have time to question it as her phone started going off. 

Looking down, she saw the office calling her. On a Saturday?

“I have to take this. I’ll be back in one second,” she groaned, taking her coffee mug with the buzzing phone to the back patio. “Hello?”

“Y/N! Hey, I have a quick update,” Melody’s voice came through the other line.

“Why are you at the office on a Saturday?” Y/N said a little sternly, but good intentions were behind it. 

“I got an email from our recycle plant we had scheduled for that Monday meeting and it couldn’t wait until Monday,” she was quick to explain. “But listen. They had to reschedule. The main guy and his wife, the bosses of the vendure who was coming to discuss the offers, had a family emergency come up and asked if they could postpone it a week.”

“Um, yeah sure. That’s fine,” Y/N shook her head trying to run the schedule through her mind. “Did you contact Bee’s Knees and let them know about the postponement?”

“Yes, and they said they were fine with it as well.”

“Ok, good,” Y/N nodded. “So I have a clear schedule besides background work Monday. Is that all?”

“Well…” Melody drug out. 

“Why does that sound like a Natasha kind of ‘well’,” Y/N questioned with a quirked eyebrow. This wasn’t receptionist or assistant talk about to happen. 

“Speaking of Nat, we thought because that was your only big meeting for the week and everything else is normal for the rest of the week, you should extend your stay in Brooklyn,” she replied. 

“What?”

“Come on. We both agree you haven’t seen your family in far too long, and a weekend trip isn’t going to cut it. That plus, Nat made a good point that you have tons of old friends you haven't seen in way too many years either,” she went on. “Why rush catching up with everyone, if all the work you need to do can be done on your laptop from Brooklyn? That and for once, your schedule isn’t overstacked with meeting after meeting. That happens once every few months. Plus, you’re already in New York!”

“Ok, ok. Calm down there, Sparky,” Y/N chuckled at her friend being out of breath. “I mean I guess, you’re not wrong…”

“She can’t be. I’m the one who came up with all this,” Nat’s voice broke in. 

“Oh, yeah. I may or may not be hanging out with Nat and Yelena,” Melody giggled bashfully. “Or be partially tipsy.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the three, but couldn’t stop the laugh from coming out of her own mouth. 

“You sneaky little bitches,” Y/N chuckled. 

“What can I say? We’re Romanoff’s,” Nat smirked through the phone. 

“Well, I’m a Hill, but Romanoff by descent,” Melody added in. 

Again, another joking eye roll. 

“Now I have to change my flights and everything,” Y/N sighed. 

“Oh, woes me,” Nat mocked. “What a challenge it must be to log into your computer and change a flight to another week…”

“Hey, smartass,-”

“Lucky for you, you have me. I state once again,” Nat laughed. “I already checked into your flights to see if we can get a cheap reschedule.”

“How’d you know my login information?” Y/N asked, confused. 

“I have my ways, now don’t interrupt,” she scolded before continuing. “I was able to find you a flight around the same time, plenty of time to get to your rescheduled meeting, and it won’t cost you a hair off that pretty head of yours.”

“How’d you manage that?” Y/N asked with a smirk of her own now and a pop of her hip.

“I’ll say it again since apparently you’re deaf. I have. My ways,” the red head replied. 

“You sure you weren’t a spy in another life or something? Because sometimes you and Yelena have some strange tricks up your sleeves that I’ve only seen done in movies.”

“I would like the answer to that as well. Like how they coroerced me into a girls night while I was hiding in my apartment trying to take a relaxing night to read,” Melody spoke up. 

“Drink your juice, babygirl,” Yelena’s voice came quietly in the back. 

“With all that being said, we are gonna to let you go. We’re going to get all the details of last night out of this little one and go to a few clubs,” Nat explained. 

“Oh, I’d love to hear the details when you have them,” Y/N laughed. 

“I’ll have a nice 5 page paper ready for you tomorrow morning,” Yelena yelled from a distance.

“I’ll be expecting it. Now you girls go have a good time and please show Melody what she’s missing out on!”

“Can do, boss lady! Love you! See you next week!” 

With that, the phone call ended and Y/N looked at the empty lock screen. 

“I guess we’re staying a little longer.”

________________

“So, how’d it go?” Steve asked coming home from his early half shift. 

Bucky was sprawled across the couch with a pillow over his face, a sports playback running in the background and a beer that looked like he had been nursing all afternoon on the coffee table. 

“She looks great,” he mumbled into the cushion, but Steve couldn’t syfer the words.

“You’re going to have to say that again without a throw pillow over your face,” he chuckled, kicking off his shoes and throwing his keys by the door before heading to the nearby kitchen. 

“I said, she looks great!” Bucky all but grunted as he sat up. Frustration and annoyance clear in his answer. 

“And why do you sound like that’s a horrible thing?” Steve laughed again from the distance. 

Bucky groaned as he stood up and walked into the other room with Steve. He was parading through the fridge for an afternoon snack, or by the looks of the clock on the oven, lunch. 

It was 12:30 already?

“Because Steve, it makes it hurt all the more,” he pouted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the island in the middle of the space. 

“Her looking good, hurts you?” Steve asked, standing up with a tupperware bowl of leftovers in his hand. 

“I don’t know!” Bucky sneered at him, angry that his best friend wasn’t catching on to his feelings that even he didn’t understand. “I guess deep down, I was hoping she didn’t age well so that walking away would be easier. But there she was, walking in like fine wine. All mature and curvy, and… Perfect…” he mumbled the last part. “She did smack me though,” he added, thinking back with a dazed face. 

“Smack you?” Steve chuckled, popping the cold food in the microwave. 

“Our lawyer is blind. I asked a simple question of out of all the states to live in, why New York in that kind of condition?” Bucky said, hating how it sounded. “I realize now, after processing it, that was stupid and rude.”

“Hence why she smacked you,” Steve laughed, copying the brunette's stance on the opposite counter. “You’re an occupational therapist, Buck. Out of all the things to understand, it’s people adapting to their handicaps and disabilities.” He couldn’t help the laugh at his friend who seemed oblivious to the irony. 

“I was nervous, ok?!” Bucky defended, throwing his arms up and going to pace the room now. “Y/N and I had been sitting in awkward silence for the most part of the meeting so far, and that was the first piece of conversation that came to mind.”

“I’m hoping for your sake, he wasn’t a dick about it.”

“He wasn’t. He actually said he gets asked that a lot. Apparently, he hasn’t been blind all his life and said he’s lived here all that time. Helps when you grow up in the environment you live in.”

“Very true,” Steve agreed, grabbing his food and stirring it around before taking a bite and talking again. “Besides her looking ‘perfect’, did the process go well? You know, besides her reprimanding you like a mom?”

“Ha ha. You’re so funny,” Bucky deadpanned. “But yes. We signed our things and updated it all. Hey, did you know she’s a co-founder of Nat’s woman’s home? I guess not a co-founder, but investor?”

Steve finished his bite and shook his head. “Can’t say I did. It must be recent if that’s the case because neither Nat or Y/N told me about that.”

“I think it is, but damn…”

“Damn what?” Steve asked. 

“Well, at first she had me dropping my jaw at the fact that she did everything and more that she had hoped to do. She’s become an environmentalist like her grandmother and has started a whole business based on it.”

“I mean she was an environmentalist as soon as her GG had her walking. Remember how she would always take our straws at restaurants and have the waitress take them back so we didn’t ‘kill the turtles’? And that was before that was a like a worldwide trend,” Steve remenised, moving to the living room to eat at the couch. Bucky following. 

“God, yes. She started carrying like 10 reusable straws with her as soon as they came out with them. That and remember the amount of reusable bags she had in her backseat any given time of the week?” Bucky laughed, joining him in thinking back to the dated memories. 

“So many she would hand them out to people in parking lots at grocery stores to use themselves,” Steve added. “God, she really loves this planet. I admire her passion though. We need everyone to have a heart for our home like that.”

“She made it everyone's mission around her to know just how important it was,” Bucky smiled at the thought as he looked off in the distance, wrapped in the memories he loved. But that wasn’t the point. The point was he would never be close with her like that again. What they had was done and over… Or would be. “Funny thing actually…” Bucky chuckled awkwardly. 

“What’s that?” Steve asked, looking at the TV in front of him. 

“We may or may not still be married…”

There was a pause as Steve stopped mid-chew and slowly turned his gaze from the baseball reruns on the screen to Bucky with a tight smile. 

“Excuse me?”

“I guess that wasn’t the endgame for today’s meeting…”

“What was?”

“Getting things updated and signed so that the papers were actually ready for our divorce,” Bucky answered. 

“So she’s still Y/N Barnes?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t say that to her face. She looks like she wants to physically throw up when you call her that,” Bucky slouched in his chair. His hand coming up to cover his face as he rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger. 

“So still married?”

“Still married.”

“How long?” Steve sighed, putting his food on the counter and leaning back in his own seat. 

“As long as it takes to make up the new divorce settlements and get them signed and sent back in. Until then… I’m a married man.”

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Heart by Heart | Chapter X | Raul Mendes

                                               *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this chapter is finally here, it's a bit shorter, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting for that long anymore and on the cliffhanger, and this was also important for the story development. Anyway, this is the tenth chapter of this series, you can find the first ones here. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don’t feel comfortable with the contents listed on the “warnings” section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the “fic rec” hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading! 

                                                previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 2K+

*Warnings: cursing, violence towards the reader, blood, kidnapping, hostage situation, angst.

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: September 16th, 2021.

                                                  -*-

Raul was a mess as soon as he was able to get into an empty room. 

He allowed himself to finally let the severity of the situation hit him. He had no idea where Y/N and Tom were, if they were alright or what could Geonoff could possibly win with this. He certainly would’ve tried blackmailing them to get something in return of the two agents he had in his hands. 

He’s been pacing back and forth in the tiny room as he tried to remain calm enough to keep his rationality so he could still be helpful. Raul just wanted to punch his way into that base and get the kid and his girl back, but he knew that was completely stupid, even for him. He could practically see the frown on Y/N’s face if she ever heard his brilliant idea, and the vision alone was almost enough to bring him to tears. Instead he shook his head, knowing that letting his feelings take control would only be a waste of time in this situation, and that’s something he learned a long time ago when he first started working with his best friend. 

She was a really rational, and maybe even a bit cold on the field. Always with a sharp remark on the tip of her tongue and a thousand of extra plans in case something failed, she could easily slip into the role of the Professor in Money Heist. Constantly analyzing and thinking. And while she was clearly the brain of their duo, Raul was clearly the heart, not thinking twice before jumping head first to save someone or get and intel. And that’s why they worked so well, he pushed her to be more spontaneous while she kept him in his place (and alive) most of the time. 

He needed her more than ever right now. 

The sound of hushed whispers and two pairs of shoes approaching him, made Raul sharply move in the direction of the door, still on edge, and waiting for it to reveal his visitors. As soon as the handle turned, he was met with his triplet and Celine wearing the same saddened and worried expressions. He might’ve come down to help with the investigation as fast as he learned about his best friend. 

Peter sighed taking in the sight of his brother. Raul looked like a lost puppy in distress, eyes on his face but his mind was clearly somewhere else, shoulders sagged and curls a mess from the constant nervous tugging habit he had. One look was enough for him to know he was carrying all the guilt and having no clue how to fix it. It’s the same look he gave his younger self when he accidentally broke his brand knew camera. 

“We’re going to find them” was the first thing he said and Raul nodded, looking unconvinced “It’s not your fault” he then added and at that, his gaze finally seemed to snap into place as he stared his brother dead in the eye. 

“Whose fault is it then?” his voice sounded a lot smaller and less threatening than he pictured. 

“Geonoff’s” Celine mumbled “but not yours, you did what was best, what was right”

Raul shook his head in response, mumbling a quiet ‘yeah, right’ under his breath, but Celine was quick to take three steps closing the distance between them and placing both hands on his shoulders. 

“Cut this shit right now” she snapped, catching both him and Peter by surprise “you and I both know I’m not your biggest fan and never truly got what everyone else saw in you, but this past months changed my perspective of things and you’re actually a decent person, a great friend and an amazing agent, and you did the right thing” she said squeezing his shoulder for great measure “and you and I both know Y/N would’ve wanted you to do the same thing, she’d be proud of you”

Raul nodded slowly and Celine let him go at that, as he was still processing her words. Peter finally reached his brother, placing his hand on his shoulder as he turned to face him “I know you’re going through a lot right now, but we need you to help us find her, we need you to hold on a bit and try to think of the places they could possibly take her, everything you heard  or saw on the past month is useful”

He nodded again “yeah, okay, I can do that”

“Good, come with me then” Peter said patting his brother’s back “she’ll come back to us, you and I know her enough to know she’s probably making their life a living hell”

Raul snorted a little laugh, that didn’t quite reach his eyes and nodded along, as they dragged him back into the main room. He needed to do what Y/N would in his place, shut his feelings off and analyze every every they took.

                                                 -*-

Y/N starts slowing coming back into her senses, feeling her muscles burning, her arms stiff and head hurting, the dark place she was situated doing little to help her regain her memories. She tried looking around to see if she could find something useful to recognize the place, only noticing a slim frame still unconscious close to her. The person had its back to her, but from their clothes and body type, she was able to recognize them as Tommy.

Tommy who was still breathing and almost at arms reach.

That was a good sign, or as good as it could be in this situation. But he was there, breathing and no signs of big blood loss around them, so no external wounds that needed to be taken care of urgently. She tried to reach for him, but the heavy chains attaching her wrists to the cobblestone floor kept her in place.

She tried locating their belongings, or anything that could help them get out of there, but it was all missing. Raul was also nowhere in sight, which probably meant he wasn’t there and probably the info was delivered safely. At least that’s what she hopped with no signs of him around them. 

There? Where the hell was there?

That’s when it finally clicked to her, she had no idea where they were or how long was she out. They could be across the ocean as far as she was concerned. She had to get them out of there. But before she could start planning their way out with absolutely nothing and Tommy still out, she heard the grating of the old and rusty hinges coming from the only way in and out of that room, a heavy iron door. 

Coming from the source of noise that snatched her attention was the man responsible for all of this. Geonoff Reyes himself. Wearing a button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled back, and a pair of dress pants, and a smug look on his face. He took lazy long strides getting close to her, crouching down in front of her. 

Geonoff smirked at her “You know, it’s pretty hard to fool me and you almost got away with it, if it weren’t for your stupid boss you’d be home by now”

Y/N just blinked at him, a completely neutral facial expression on as she stared up at him, making him tsk.

“By the way, how is your little boyfriend? Does he know this relationship is just an act or you manipulate him as well?” he asked and she didn’t even flinch at his statement, noticing that her silence was doing more at getting him upset than clapping back “it must be sad, being such a pathetic agent and letting his little girl and friend get caught as he fled, and in the end discovering this was one sided”

Her gaze shifted quickly to Tommy and then back to Geonoff’s face, that was too close to hers for her taste “don’t worry, he’ll live for now, need him to get you to cooperate” and Y/N felt a little lighter knowing that, taking all the self control she had to not let that show on her face “you know they’ll never find you, right? Thought about sending a little photo as a gift for them, but might do it whenever we move to our next location, better lighting and stuff”

“What do you want?” her voice was hoarse, but she was able to keep her tone steady enough to not seem frightened.

“Oh, sugar, missed that sweet voice of yours, it matches your pretty face, just wish I could see that beautiful smile again, but we’ll get to that” he said patting her cheek with his long fingers, making her insides turn in disgust and she had to swallow the sudden wave of nausea down “I want something simple, just know all the info you’ve been feeding your precious little team for the past weeks, you’re smart enough knowing I wouldn’t mind hurting you to get what I want”

Y/N only stared back at him watching his brow twitch in annoyance “don’t want to hurt your pretty face, so cooperate with me and I might even let you go safely”

But her silent response seemed to be enough for him to loose it, because he took a deep breath before slapping his hand across her face for the first time. The pure shock of the action almost made her react, but she held her face up as she kept staring at him, her face burning but she wouldn’t give him the little taste of a small victory at breaking her neutral mask of indifference. 

“This could be so easy” he mumbled slapping the other side a little harder “you didn’t have to do this, you could be free by now” the third one was stronger than she was expecting, making her face turn with the pure force of it, the loud sound coming from the aggression echoing on the empty room and down the large corridor, the echo making her realize there wasn’t much down where they were, mostly just blank empty walls without doors to divide the sound. 

“What is it? Anything you’d like to say?” he asked grabbing her chin and yanking her face to look up at him, but her mouth remained closed “well, your choice”

After a few consecutive hits, one being so strong making her face collide with the wall when it turned, and she felt the sticky liquid running down her face. Her skin probably breaking with the brisk contact with the stone wall, cutting her cheek in the process. The seemed to please him, since he let out a loud boisterous laugh, making her lean her head so he could see it better mumbling a quiet “vicious bitch” under his breath “stop fighting back” before going back to it. 

After a couple more minutes, her right cheek numb already, Geonoff said grabbing her face roughly in his hands, forcing her to look up at him “Come on, sugar, you’re really stressing me out here”

“I’m truly sorry you had to kidnap and keep two agents hostage to try and prove you’re better than your sister” she said blinking at him monotonously and that seemed to hit a nerve, because Geonoff squeezed her face harder in his palms before pushing her head against the wall. 

Y/N felt her limbs giving out as her vision got blurry, her vision going dark before she felt her body leaning to her side and hitting the floor with a dull thud. The sound of shoes hitting against the rocks and the door being shut closed again a sign that the man lost his patience and left them behind. She tried fighting the numbness getting ahold of her body, but ended up succumbing at the end. 

The sounds of waves breaking somewhere near them and the constant throbbing of her head dragging her back into unconsciousness. 

                                                  -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

[bbygenya]

aftermath 🔥

fandom: demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba

pairing: kyoujurou x reader

ratings: g for g(ood lord what have I written)eneral audiences

warnings: feelings :) 

word count: 1604

summary: just some overindulgent fluff with kyoujurou after muzan got his ass beat :)

a/n: i’m a rengoku simp (are you really surprised?) honestly I love this man with my whole chest

plus he still be alive in my heart so he’s alive after the big boss battle 😤

Your eyes trace his form as he swings the wooden sword almost expertly. Training even on an off day—nothing unusual from the Flame Pillar himself. You hope to one day be as strong as him, even though you can barely keep up with him now as it is. It’s entirely too peaceful nowadays, yet there’s still a few threats to be eliminated. The big fight had left the Pillars battered and bruised, missing a few pieces of themself in the process. You’re thankful though; thankful that Kyoujurou prevailed with minor injuries—other than losing his eye and being left with a weaker respiratory system from the wound Akaza had blessed him with.

He was still strong, still training as if the demon lord was about to walk up the walkway of the Rengoku estate. 

Yet, you can’t will yourself to convince him to stop. Training had been ingrained in him for so long, that it would probably take a while before he’s ready to lay down his sword. You think it shouldn’t be much longer; the modern era is quickly catching up with the world around you, so you’re almost sure it won’t be much longer then. 

“Is big brother still practicing?” Senjurou comes over then, sitting beside you to watch the other man swing his sword. You lean back on your hands, nodding. 

“Mhm. Old habits die hard, so I can see why,” you explain with the ghost of a smile at your lips. Senjurou nods, understanding. It’s truly going to take a while before he relaxes into the new normal. Shifting, you adjust yourself. Wincing from the soreness of your limbs as you adjust your casted leg to where it’s a bit more comfortable. In the final battle, your leg had been mangled to the point where you were sure you’d lose it, yet Shinobu and the girls at the Butterfly Mansion were sure to patch you right up and get you in the process of healing. Noticing your mild discomfort, the boy makes a noise, turning to you. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” He questions, concerned. You smile, shaking your head at him. 

“It’s fine, Senjurou, really. Just adjusting to get a bit more comfortable,” you assure him. You try to mask the discomfort in your expression as best you can, wanting to shield the boy from having to deal with it, deal with you, but like his brother he’s stupidly perceptive in a way that makes you want to puff your cheeks out and huff childishly. Damn these Rengoku brothers. 

The look in his eyes tells you he doesn’t believe you, but he does nod. “Maybe you need a pillow for your leg then?” he suggests. You can’t deny him, he looks so determined!, so you sigh and smile at him. 

“Sure. Mind fetching one for me?”

The boy’s eyes brighten as he bobs his head in a nod, shifting to stand.

“Okay! Be right back!” he hurries off to fetch said pillow, and for a moment you watch him. Wondering what it’s like to be normal. You’ve been training to be a demon slayer since you were a preteen and now you wonder what life would’ve been like had you not been one? Not that Senjurou had it easier, but he hasn’t seen the same things you’ve seen. He hasn’t had to watch comrades get mauled and devoured by demons. He’s lucky he won’t ever have to, either. 

“You know, it’s not good to lie to children,”

Kyoujurou’s voice startles you, causing you to jump a little (wasn’t he just practicing?) and the surprise you show makes him chuckle. Moving to sit beside you, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple gently. 

“That’s not very nice [y/n],” he chides playfully, reaching for the water pouch he’d brought with him at the beginning of this little training session. Usually, he practices in the dojo, but today he’d decided to entertain you in the front yard. How sweet of him. You roll your eyes playfully at him, unable to not smile in his presence, then you allow your head to rest gently on his shoulder. His arm was still healing from the Akaza fight as well, and he’d regretfully had to sit the main boss battle out. He hadn’t been too happy about it, but he knew he would’ve been more of a crutch than a help. Though it had taken place months after the Infinity Train incident, the extent of his injuries kept him out for quite a while. And honestly, you wonder if that’s what drives him to train even though there’s no need to anymore.

Honestly, from what you’ve heard, he’s not the only pillar who still trains daily.

“I’m sorry, I’ll apologize,” you hum, though you know it won’t do much good. Senjurou knew you were lying and simply played along. For a moment you sigh, basking in the warmth of the moment. Your mind isn’t on demons, or fighting. Moreso on your boyfriend, and finally being able to settle down and start a family with him. It’s nice to pretend as if you two were normal from the get go, but your wounds say otherwise. As do the nightmares that plague you both. It’s going to take a while for your mentalities to settle enough to try to figure out what “normal” is, but you’re sure it won’t be too hard.

“I’m back!” Senjurou joins you two, pillow in hand as he moves to set it gently underneath your wrapped leg. Patting it for good measure but sits on the other side of you, hands in his lap as he watches both you and Kyoujurou and smiles happily. He’s thankful that his brother is alive, and is thankful that you’re here with them as well and it shows.

“Thank you Senjurou, that feels a lot better,” it really does; the softness of the pillow is very welcomed. Beside you, Kyoujurou shifts a little to get comfortable, glancing over at his brother for a moment and seems to get an idea. 

“Senjurou! Could you go grab those snacks Kanroji-san sent us?” he questions. “I would go, but I’m a bit worn out from training,” he admits sheepishly, cheeks a little pink. It frustrates him to know that his stamina isn’t the same; at the cost of his life he’d ben injured in such a way that had really impacted him in such a way that in the first few months it was hard. It was so hard, but he’s slowly adjusting to the changes. You’re quite the help with that, and his motivation to keep going at it. Though he’d just gotten back from fetching the pillow, at the mention of snacks, he perks. 

“Okay! I’ll be right back!” he shoots up and jogs off, causing both you and Kyoujurou to laugh gently. How cute—he’s just like Kyoujurou sometimes, you think to yourself.

An arm wraps around your waist and you lean into it, allowing yourself to be gently pulled closer. Kyoujurou tips his head to brush his nose against the crown of your head, sighing as he buries himself into the sweet scent of your [scent] hair, finding comfort in it. He too is surprised he’s still alive, but thanks the gods everyday they allowed him to continue living with you, happily. You don’t mind this and in fact you turn a little, carefully of your leg, to snuggle into his side, which doesn’t help how he nearly pulls you into his lap, simply wanting to hold you and have you close to him. 

“I know I haven’t really talked about it, but when I fought that demon on the train, I was so scared,” he says, voice soft for once. He very rarely speaks softly—he’s such a loud man sometimes you find yourself wanting to smack your hand over his pretty mouth—so when he does lower his voice like this, you’re inclined to listen. “I was scared I’d never see you again, never see my father or Senjurou either. I really thought,” he sighs softly, tightening his hold on you. “I really thought when I saw my mother that it was over. I wanted to go with her but. . .at the same time, I wanted to stay here with you all as well. It was really hard, debating over where I should go, but she’s the one who told me that my time here wasn’t finished,” you know this yourself. When they’d gotten to Kyoujurou, he’d bled out so much that he needed multiple blood transfusions. He was in a coma for weeks, and you’re sure at one point he did die. And hearing this confirms it. Your eyes water thinking of how lonely you would’ve been had he not here, of how quiet the Rengoku estate would be had his loud laughter ceased to fill the halls. It would’ve been so hard to move on without him, so you’re very thankful his mother helped him come back to you. He must sense you’re on the verge of tears, because he pulls back to look down at you, tilting your chin up so that you’re both looking each other in the eye. 

“Ah, darling please don’t cry,” he sounds almost pained to know that you’re upset—or that you seem upset. The tears fall, but he’s quick to wipe them away. You sniffle, feeling pitiful for a moment. 

“Sorry. I’m just really happy you came back,” you say, voice cracking. He finds himself smiling despite the fact that you’re crying, and ducks down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Me too.”

-x

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.3 (BAON)

Summary:   Edge is heading back into work, but since when do his days ever go smoothly?

Tags: Spicyhoney, kustard, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was entirely too soon for him to be returning to work by Edge’s measure. Two days off after a kidnapping was a paltry concession and he would have preferred at least working from home for the rest of the week. The Embassy wasn’t particularly far from New New Home, but depending on traffic and stoplights, it could take nearly half an hour to drive between them, not including the time it took to get to his car.

Time enough for so many things to go wrong and for Stretch to be alone when it did.

But despite his preference, two mornings after he’d brought Stretch home, Edge was pulling into the Embassy parking lot and ignoring the shouts of the protestors on the other side of the street as he walked in, though he didn’t extend his cane until he was inside the front entrance.

The issue at hand was not with his employment. Stretch was the one all but pushing him out their front door and he’d done so with a massive spew of words coupled with wild gestures, all of which boiled down to him not needing a babysitter while he was at home.

Edge didn’t have the soul to argue with him about it, particularly since he was right. There were already enough new violations of his boundaries, and past experience taught that he would start to chafe under them soon enough. Perhaps it was already beginning; exhausted as he was, he’d still slept restlessly the night before and while Stretch often tossed and turned, this time it was enough to disturb Edge’s own sleep, his subconscious crying out that this was not a familiar level of thrashing.

He’d still been in bed when Edge left though not asleep, muttering something about heading down to his lab to check on his experiments. Edge hoped that he did; if he could get absorbed in his own version of mad science, it would be a good distraction for the day, one that was very much needed. Red was supposed to stop by at some point about the bodyguard assignment and while Edge asked his brother to wait for him to get home, there was no telling if he would. If he deemed Edge’s presence unnecessary, Red would do as he liked and to hell with waiting for his brother.

With that in mind, Edge’s plan was to work as swiftly as he could today without sacrificing accuracy so that he could leave on time, perhaps even early, in an effort to thwart anything Red might attempt for his own amusements. But as so often happened, plans had a way of changing and in very unexpected ways.

When he’d arrived at the Embassy that morning, he’d been hyperaware of the stares that followed behind him from the moment he came through the door. From the security guard at his station to the interns to the janitors, eyes and whispers lingered in his wake. Whatever hopes he’d had for discretion about the kidnapping incident were quickly dismissed; it was obviously the talk of the office though no one was bold enough to confront him about it directly. As Red often said, ‘the only way to keep a secret is if ya kill the guy who told ya’ and considering how many witnesses were at the bar that night when Stretch and Jeff were taken, that option was not exactly feasible, if it ever was.

The local news was plastered with stories, some sticking with the one provided by the Embassy and others filled with wild speculations. Monsters were hardly immune to gossip and Stretch often featured on both sides of the rumor equation.

As for his usual partner in crime, Jeff was taking the week off and Antwan with him, and while Edge could appreciate the urge to get back to some form of normalcy, he couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy to think the two of them were probably curled in bed together sleeping while he was fending off the glares of his co-workers.

He deliberately kept his limping pace normal on his way to his office, refusing to give the gossip any further fuel. That worked well enough until he went inside. Janice was already at her desk and she looked up when he entered, her long ears swiveling in his direction and her pink nose twitching as she gave him a narrow look.

He wondered if she was disappointed in him for coming in today. The thought made him want to look away from her direct gaze and he forced himself not to, saying crisply, “Good morning.”

But perhaps he was only projecting his own troubled thoughts because Janice only replied with a certain gentle concern, “Good morning. How is Stretch doing?”

Yes, the gossip traveled quickly, indeed. Edge hesitated, then said with cautious honesty, “He’s doing better.”

She nodded and didn’t press. Absently, she reached out to straighten the picture frame on her desk of her two children. Edge understood the impulse. “If you need anything, either of you, please do let me know.”

“I will,” Edge said. He meant it. Somehow in the past year their relationship had gone from a strictly working one to something akin to friends, a change that came about right around the time he’d married Stretch. Another way his love had changed his life for the better.

Still, it was a relief for her expression to change in a flash from motherly concern to businesslike briskness. “I’ve already emailed your agenda for the day, nothing particularly robust, but you do have a meeting in an hour with Toriel.”

“Toriel.” Edge blinked in surprise. Technically, Toriel didn’t work for the Embassy in a similar way to Stretch. She acted as Frisk’s guardian, and while she certainly handled things she likely shouldn’t at her own discretion, they were the diplomat, not her. What could she want to discuss that she couldn’t have come to their home?

He set his laptop case down and dug out his phone, opening the email app and scrolled to his daily agenda to scan the list. The schedule said only, ‘Meeting with Toriel, 10am’ and gave no clues. “Did she happen to say what it was about?”

Janice shook her head. “I’m afraid not, she only contacted and asked for an appointment. I couldn’t think of a reason not to, so I gave her the first available timeslot.” Her voice uplifted at the end, turning the statement into a question.

“Of course you should,” Edge said, belatedly, “I’m perfectly willing to talk with her. I’m simply confused as to why.”

Janice offered him a faint smile and raised eyebrows. “I suppose in an hour you’ll find out.”

“I suppose I will,” Edge sighed. He picked up his laptop and headed into his office, already considering whether to brave the gauntlet again for a cup of coffee or to relinquish is pride and ask Janice to retrieve one. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for any surprises and a meeting with the former Queen would likely offer them, in spades.

~~*~~

If there was one thing to appreciate about meeting with Toriel, it was her promptness. At precisely 9:59 am Janice buzzed him that she’d arrived.

Edge took a moment to drain the last of the lukewarm coffee from his cup, brought to him by Janice without any prompting from him, further proof of what an excellent assistant she was. He saved the document he was working on before he replied, “Send her in.”

He’d hardly finished speaking when his door opened, Toriel’s bulk filling the entryway. She had to duck her head to fit through the entrance, barely missing bumping her horns on the trim.

“Please, come in,” Edge said. He ignored his cane where it leaned against the side of his chair and instead walked cautiously as he came around it. He gestured to the sofa rather than the chairs at his desk; Toriel was not a small Monster, but his office was designed for visits with everyone, up to and including Asgore himself.

“Thank you,” Toriel said. Her voice was soft enough that it seemed one should strain to hear it, and yet it still carried clearly through the room. She seated herself where he’d indicated, folding her lightly furred hands into her lap.

Edge hadn’t spent a great deal of time with Toriel outside of Embassy functions and the few times he’d traveled along with the diplomats. Even then, he’d kept a cautious distance from her. Despite the small glasses perched on her muzzle, her soft purple dress and motherly cardigan she wore, as a Boss Monster, there was a certain aura of power that she carried that no casual outfit could stifle. Her status might be simply as Frisk’s guardian, but even Humans couldn’t fail to notice it. Adding in that Edge had no basis of comparison with her counterpart in Underfell, put simply, she made him faintly uncomfortable, despite the common interest in puns she shared with several members of his family.

“Would you like a drink?” He barely caught himself before asking if she’d care for tea, already knowing the answer to that. She and Stretch should be closer friends, they could bond over their mutual dislike of the King. “Water? Fruit juice?”

“Water would be lovely,” Toriel said. The words were merely polite, he sincerely doubted she’d come here for refreshments.

From the small fridge in the corner, he retrieved a bottle of water. He set it on a coaster rather than hand it to her and took the seat across from her, folding his hands into his lap in an unconscious mirror of hers. “What can I do for you?” Edge asked.

Without preamble, Toriel said, “You saved my child’s life, and mine.”

That was far from any topic he’d expected she wanted to discuss. If anything, he’d supposed she might wish for more personal information regarding the kidnapping and rather than trusting the gossips, she’d gone to a reliable source. That she might want to talk about their last meeting hadn’t even occurred to him.

The incident in California was not so long ago and yet, despite his lingering scars, the event itself had mostly left his mind. Yes, it was traumatic and yes, he’d certainly be feeling the aftereffects for some time. But it wasn’t his way to linger over such things; it happened, it was over, and now there was only to move onto introducing new safeguards to keep such a thing from happening again.

He considered Toriel’s statement with care before offering cautiously, “Anything I could do to keep you and your child safe, I was willing to offer.”

“I’m sure you were, and are.” Toriel’s eyes were a shade of red unlike his own eye lights. In a way, they were more like Red’s and his way of seeing things deeper than should be possible. “And I am willing to offer my own gift for that kindness. I’ve noticed your leg is still troubling you.”

Edge struggled against shifting uncomfortably, forcing himself not to look down at the leg in question. He was wearing the brace today as he always did in the office, not because he thought he particularly needed it, but due to his suspicions that Janice would discreetly tattle to Stretch if he didn’t. It was a tradeoff for leaving their strictly business relationship behind. “It’s healing, it simply takes time.”

“Indeed,” Toriel inclined her head in agreement. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll allow it. It wouldn’t begin to pay my debt to you but—”

“Your Highness,” Edge interrupted gently, “you don’t owe me anything. I’m well aware that you saved my life after the explosion.”

“I’m no longer the Queen, Toriel is fine,” Her interruption was less gentle and for one who claimed no title, her tone made him want to straighten his spine and come to attention, a habit he’d thought gone along with Underfell. “And your life wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t saved mine.”

“Toriel,” Edge said deliberately, “if you’re offering to heal me, I have a doctor, they’ve done as much with healing magic as they can.”

“I’m sure they have. Which is why I’m offering. My skills are somewhat more…” she hesitated, settling on, “Robust, than other Monsters.”

As a Boss Monster, that was surely true, and Edge couldn’t help considering it.

She’d used her magic on him before, and while that was an emergency, he could hardly protest her doing it again. And what she was offering was gift unlike any other. The opportunity to be healed, to be able to return to his normal activities was tempting to be sure, but what irritated more was his brother keeping him at arm’s-length during the kidnapping. If he’d been more capable, if his leg wasn’t slowing him down, would Red have forced him to stay home instead of allowing him to provide some real assistance? There was no way to tell now, but if he could keep it from happening in the future…?

But Edge also knew that things that seemed too good to be true often were and that there was little in life that came without some sort of price attached. He’d gotten such a gift from the Angel already, if one believed in such things, in the love given to him by Stretch. Asking for more seemed greedy.

Toriel only waited serenely, perhaps understanding his inner turmoil.

“There’s no chance this could have a negative effect,” Edge said slowly. “I’ve made a great deal of progress already, I won't have it set back."

“None at all,” Toriel assured him. “I wouldn’t offer if there was even a chance.” She shifted in her seat, briefly looking away as if his bookcases had suddenly caught her interest. “I would have offered sooner but you must understand, this sort of healing is very draining. If it got out I could do this, Monsters would be lining up at my door, begging for treatment.” She shook her head, her mouth pulling downward unhappily, and suddenly she seemed older and weary. “I can only do as much as I can.”

“I understand.” He did. It was the same reason they’d chosen to keep Monsters’ ability to heal from the Humans. There were limits to the care anyone could provide. Still, his immediate impulse to agree warred with his cautious reluctance. “Then why now?”

“Why not now?” Toriel countered. She spread her empty hands in something like a plea. “I can’t heal every Monster, but what point is it for me to have these gifts if I can’t use them to help someone who was injured by helping me? I owe you a debt, Edge, and I mean to pay it.”

The steel in her voice resonated and the determined need to repay a debt was certainly something he could understand. Edge straightened and inclined his head formally, “I accept your offer.”

A smile lit Toriel’s face and that melancholy fell away as she clapped her hands together like a child rather than the powerful, centuries-old Monster that she was. “Wonderful! Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

“Now?” Edge said, surprised. He’d expected her to need to make some preparations, perhaps arrange for a secret meeting someplace out of the way and not well watched. If there was such a place when one considered his brother.

But Toriel only nodded. “Oh, yes. It won’t take long.”

She rose from the sofa and crouched down next to him. A bit nonplussed, he helped her unbuckle the splint and remove it, and as always, there was a slight, uncomfortable twinge with its support gone. Worse was the awkward intimacy in the way she settled her hands on his leg, even over his trousers, her fingers shifting into precise positions as she closed her eyes and summoned her magic.

Edge had been healed before, too many times to count. Rarely in Underfell, healing there was usually scoffed at and often considered a weakness as it was a difficult skill for those with LV. But in this universe, Stretch, Blue, even Toriel herself had healed him in the past, little wounds mostly, except for California.

He hadn’t been in a position to pay attention the last time she’d used her magic on him, drifting in and out of consciousness, but here there was nothing to distract him. Her magical signature was a deft one, not the brusque force of his brother or familiar honeyed languidness of Stretch or even Blue, who managed to somehow be both forceful and nearly timid at the same time. The greenness of healing came at a delicate trickle at first, seeking and finding the places in his leg that still ached with cunning skill, sinking in. In tiny increments, that trickle became a flood, and then a torrent, and the sensation was indescribable. Not pain, that was far too simple a word, but the deep power that carried healing into his leg and further, seeking out his very essence. Edge shied away instinctively as it sought out his soul, trying to escape that implacable, almost ethereal touch, but it didn’t invade or violate, only swirled briefly through his ribcage in a sort of greeting before returning to the task at hand, or rather, at leg, before it slowly withdrew into empty nothingness.

Edge opened his sockets, hardly aware of closing them, to see Toriel closing her own eyes as she wobbled on her feet, sinking back to sit on the floor with her legs tucked under her and her skirt demurely covering them.

“Your Highness,” Edge said in concern. He reached for her automatically, hesitating before touching her. Even though his gloves he could still feel the aura of roused magic surrounding her.

She opened her eyes. “Toriel,” she corrected with a slight smile, waving his hands away. She retrieved the bottle of water from the table, opening it and taking a long drink, then sighed out, “I’m fine. How are you?”

In answer, Edge stood, striding across the room and back again. The lingering weakness and frustrating ache of the past weeks were entirely gone. The urge to tests his limits was strong and he wondered giddily what anyone would make of it if they caught him racing up and down the stairwell with his coattails flapping behind him.

As if reading his thoughts and perhaps she was to some extent, they wouldn’t be difficult to guess, Toriel cautioned, “I suggest you wear the brace for a little longer. It might keep the curious from asking questions.”

Edge was about to agree, then amended it, “I won’t lie to Stretch. If he asks.”

To his surprise, Toriel let out of a peal of soft laughter and shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He’ll know the moment he sees you.”

That he hadn’t expected and Edge could only stare at her, aghast, “What?

Her smile turned incredulous. "You have my magic clinging to you, do you truly think he won't notice? Papyrus of all people?"

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that and he wished he'd known before he agreed. Well, it was too late to change anything now, wasn’t it, and that was a meal he’d have to swallow when it came to the table.

Belatedly, he realized Toriel was attempting to climb up from the floor and he hastily leaned down to help. Her weight was easily triple his own but between the two of them, they managed to get her back on her feet.

“Well!” Toriel said with a soft sigh as she dusted off her dress. “I’ll leave you to your duties, then. I need to get back to Frisk, they have a meeting this afternoon with the Prime Minister of Japan, and I wanted to brush up on the agenda.”

“Yes, of course, your—Toriel,” Edge correctly hastily. He couldn’t help flexing his knee again, still giddy with the pain-free movement of the joint. “Thank you, Toriel. This means a great deal to me, past simply healing.” She’d already turned to the door and paused, turning back to him.

There was a certain familiar impishness to her smile as she said, “If you truly wanted to thank me, you could try calling me Tori.”

In answer, Edge only bowed deeply to her and said, sincerely, “I’m afraid the attempt would be too much for me and might undo all the damage you healed. I would hate to be the cause of ruining all your hard work.”

Her soft laughter washed over him in a gentle wave and she shook her head. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we.” Her amused expression shifted to seriousness, “And Edge? Anything I could do to help you, I was willing to offer.”

Edge inclined his head in wry acknowledgement and with a last smile, she went out the door, leaving him alone in his office. Alone with his leg in perfect working condition and itching to be used.

A jog up the stairs might be out of the question, but there was no reason he couldn’t walk down to get another cup of coffee. With the brace on for now, and by next week? Perhaps he could risk going without, at least in the morning, if the stares died down by then. Time would tell.

He sat down to strap the blasted thing back on, its lack of necessity making it all the more annoying.

Soon, he told himself, soon.

Despite the events of the past few days, Edge felt lighter than he had in weeks. He only hoped Stretch’s reaction would be as pleased as his own.

Once the brace was properly on, Edge retrieved his cup from his desk and went down the hallway to the breakroom to fill it, giving Janice’s curious glance a sedate nod and careful to keep his steps slow and measured so as to not rouse any suspicions.

On the leg brace he would concede, an annoying necessity to be sure. But the cane? That, he left behind.

tbc

[supernatural-jackles]

Owe You One - Part 3

Title: Owe You One - Saving You

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 5,141

Warnings: Angst, Self Hate, Nudity, Depression, Anxiety, Mentions of Sex, Minor Fluff, Self Loathing.

Summary:  Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Owe You One - Masterlist

Square Filled : Best Friend for @spndeanbingo

A/N: Here we go! I hope y’all enjoy this part! Please please please, leave a comment, reblog or ask! Your response is very important to me! Happy Reading!

*Tags are still open! Please send an ask*

Three Months Later

 “Hey Y/N, it’s me, Dean. Again. Uh, look, we need to talk. It’s been three months since I last heard from you. I haven’t seen you since the night out. I’m getting worried now. I’m stopping by tonight around seven. Have a good day.”

 You listened to his words, letting them swirl around in your head as they sunk in. It had been three months since you last saw him. The night of his mom’s party. He called and left messages. Knocked on your door a few times and sent a bunch of texts. You didn’t return any of them. It was for the best.

 You couldn’t get his mother’s words out of your head since that night. You were never going to be good enough for the Winchester family. You were never going to measure up because you were the same filth that your mom was. You were bound to repeat history with their oldest son and she was going to make damn sure nothing happened. Hell, you had no idea what had happened. You were clueless, helpless and most of all, you were completely and utterly alone.

 You glanced around your messy bedroom, knowing fine well it was time to get up to get ready for work. That didn’t help you move. Your room hadn’t been cleaned in close to two months. You had probably vacuumed about three times. You had clothes everywhere. Your sheets were half on the bed. You had blankets on the floor, and the odd pillow. You just stopped cleaning up and taking care of yourself. There was no motivation in you to do anything. You slept, are the odd meal, went to work and repeat. There was nothing special about your life now that you didn’t have anyone in it.

 You rolled off of your bed, your feet landing in what felt to be a sweater that you had worn yesterday or the day before. You couldn’t quite remember. You took a deep breath, searching your drawer for something you could wear that was semi presentable, and not already worn and on the floor. You didn’t have a whole lot of clean clothes left.

 As soon as you pulled on your pants and shirt, you slipped out of your room and into the main part of the apartment. Your dishes were piled up in the sink, and all over the counter. You hadn’t bothered to clean anything in your apartment for awhile now. You just didn’t have the energy to put into cleaning up.

 You shoved your shoes on your feet, wanting to leave the apartment as quickly as possible to get out before you had the chance to run onto Dean. That was the very last thing you wanted. Especially after the message on your phone. If you were lucky and timed everything out, you’d be home early and you could ignore him like you had done for the last three months. Dean and the rest of the Winchester’s were better off without you.

 You hopped on the number five bus that took you straight to the stop right outside your work’s building. You barely gave his beloved impala a second glance as the bus took off down the road. It was filled with the usual crowd. Some in their business suits, others in scrubs. It was always the same people that never said a single word to each other. Not even a hello.

 The ride was exactly twenty six minutes. The average amount it took you to get there. This morning, the lady with the stroller didn’t get on, which saved you three and a half minutes. The old man with the big hat got off at a different stop, and a few new faces got on at a stop that wasn’t typically used. It was all so routine. Nothing ever changed.

 Maybe that was part of your problem. Your life was so routine now that you were alone. You didn’t run the odd chance that Dean was coming over to hang out because you had shut him out. You didn’t go out. You lived the same daily routine every single day. No change. Maybe that was why you were in the slump you were in. Partially anyways.

 You pulled the string, letting the driver know you needed off. You stood up, heading for the side door to get ready to leave. No one looked at you, or even paid any attention to you. They were all staring at their phones, not taking in their surroundings. It made you wonder how they ever got off at their stops.

 You stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk, heading straight towards your building’s entrance. You had your key card ready to scan when you walked in. You took a deep breath as you pulled the door open, your footsteps light as you made your way to the front desk. You slipped your card in the slot, hearing the click to unlock the door.

 The exact same routine every morning. Your work station as you liked to call it was on the third floor. You had your own little cubicle that you made yours. The elevator dinged as it stopped on your floor. You heard the conversations the second you stepped out and headed into the big room. Your area was to the left of the room, near the conference office.

 You arrived at your cubicle, removing your bag from your shoulder before placing it on your desk. You took a seat in your comfortable chair. Your eyes wandered in the same place they always did. The picture of you and Dean that you had there. It was the only picture you had the two of you. You didn’t have the heart to remove it. You loved the picture. He was smiling wide while you were laughing. His younger brother Sam had taken it. What you would do to go back to that day.

 “Morning Y/N,” Charlie beamed, handing you your morning tea with a smile. “Your morning pick me up.”

 “Thanks Charlie,” you smiled softly at her.

 “Are you caught up on The Walking Dead yet?” she asked, leaning against your desk.

 “No not yet,” you shook your head. “I’ve been a bit busy. I think I’m six episodes behind now.”

 “You are and it’s killing me,” she sighed. “Okay, what about we get together this weekend and catch up. Or have a Harry Potter marathon.”

 “I’ll see what I’m doing,” you nodded. “I’ll text you and let you know.”

 “Will you?” she cocked her eyebrow knowingly.

 “Promise,” you said, looking directly at her.

 She gave you a weak smile before heading to the next cubicle with their drink. You let out a breath, turning your computer on. You were just going to focus on getting your work done so you could go home and feel comfortable once more.

 Your job wasn’t hard. You worked for a magazine company called Asemodeus and you wrote articles. It wasn’t your dream job by any means. When you moved here, this was the only place you heard back from that the pay was decent. It was better than nothing. You just weren’t challenged as much as you would have liked. It was all a routine to you.

 Your column was strictly fashion. Nothing to write home about. You worked with a bunch of other woman who helped get the main parts of the magazine together. Your boss, Abaddon was the daughter of the company’s CEO. She ran this floor and was the one in charge of getting everything done. Charlie worked alongside her. She was in charge of everything Abaddon couldn’t get done. Everyone else was just like you in some sense.

 The day was dragging on. You had nothing due. Nothing to research and nothing to write. You were ahead and there wasn’t anything you could help with in anyway. Your eyes kept slipping over to that picture and how he was coming over tonight. He was worried about you. All you could think about was his mom’s words. You weren’t good enough for any of them. What made you think that Dean wasn’t going to realize it at some point? As soon as another woman came into his life, you would be shoved out of his life anyways. You were saving yourself the heartache.

 Six o’clock finally came. You shut down your computer and turned your side light off before standing up. You had your sweater close to you and your bag over your shoulder. If you were lucky, you would catch the first bus back to the apartment, you thought to yourself. You pulled your hair out from beneath the strap.

 You slipped your card in the slot once more, signing out for the day before pushing the door open. The cool March air filled your lungs instantly. The wind had picked up a little. You were looking forward to spring finally making its appearance.

 The bus stopped in front of the stop for you to get on. This ride was shorter than the last one you reminded yourself as you took your seat at the back of the bus. It was a different crowd on this route compared to the morning round. There was a man always on his phone with his wife. Today they were arguing about something which sounded a lot like what to get for dinner. Most of the time, he was telling her how his day went and how much he missed her. He couldn’t have been much older than you by the looks of him. He wore a suit and carried a briefcase. It wasn’t new by any means. A hand me down at best. His suit was one of three he owned. He was definitely just starting out.

 Your stop came quickly and before you knew it, you were back out into the cool evening. You glanced both ways, checking for cars coming before stepping out onto the street to cross over. You couldn’t wait to be in your bed. It was all you could think about.

 It was just after six thirty when you stepped foot on your floor off the stairs. You searched your bag for your keys. You pulled them out of their spot, finally look up, only to have your heart sink in your chest. Dean was sitting on the floor outside your apartment with his knees up to his chest. It wasn’t even seven yet. So much for getting home early enough that you could avoid him. There was nothing you could say to him. There was no point in conversation.

 “Y/N,” he half smiled, getting up off the floor.

 “Look, now’s not really a good time,” you said, slipping the keys in the lock as quickly as you could. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do.”

 “Not even ten minutes?” he asked, his tone almost cold. Not that you could really blame him.

 “As you can see, I’m fine. I’m still alive and all is good. I’m just busy. You can stop worrying,” you stated, pushing the door open.

 “Y/N,” he breathed out. “Please.”

 “It’s not a good idea, okay?” you muttered, stepping inside your apartment. You turned back, finally looking directly at him for the first time. He had a sad, broken and defeated look on his face. It damn near broke you. You didn’t want to hurt him. That wasn’t your intention in the slightest. You were saving both of you from heartache later on.

 “You have someone over last night?” he asked, pointing towards your kitchen, furrowing his eyebrows. Shit. Of course he could see your kitchen from where he was standing.

 “No,” you shook your head. “I gotta go.”

 “Y/N, please,” he pleaded. “I talked to my mom about what happened.” You stiffened at the thought of him talking to her about you. The mere thought of you on her mind, her face turning angry and filling with disgust.

 “That’s great. I don’t want to hear it, okay? Please, leave me be,” you said. Your voice laced with defeat. You moved to shut the door closed, only to have Dean’s hand stop it before he entered your apartment. He wasn’t going to give up. There was no getting him to leave now without a fight.

 “You’re not okay,” he said sadly. “Are you?”

 “I’m okay,” you lied. “I’ve just been busy.”

 “Don’t lie to me,” he stated. “Your kitchen is a mess which is completely unlike you.” He walked over to the fridge, opening it up. “You have nothing in your fridge, Y/N. Not even a carton of milk. You haven’t done the dishes in what looks like a week or two. God knows, the last time you had a proper meal.”

 “I’ve been busy,” you whispered, trying to make yourself small. He wasn’t going to buy a word you were saying. You could see it on his face. Maybe if you kept lying, you’d piss him off to the point where he’d leave. Maybe if you pretended not to need him.

 “Y/N, don’t lie to me,” he frowned, making you feel guilty.

 “Can you please, just go,” you swallowed hard, not daring to look at him.

 “Let me clean up, okay? Go shower and do whatever you do after work,” he told you. You didn’t have to be told twice. You turned on your heel, heading into your bedroom. You shut the door quietly, taking in the darkness that was the room. The curtains hadn’t been opened in months. Dean was going to leave after he did the one thing you couldn’t do. You could handle him doing that. You were tired of fighting.

 You shed out of your work clothes, dropping them near the overflowing laundry basket. You never bothered to make sure they were fully in there. It didn’t matter anyways. Your room was as much of a mess as your kitchen was, if not worse. You reached for your pyjamas that you had on this morning, pulling them on your body before slipping beneath the covers of your bed.

 You lay your head on your pillow, bringing your legs up to your chest as you settled in. You felt everything, but at the same time, you felt nothing. It was one of the worst feelings in the world. Knowing something was wrong, but not having the slightest clue how to fix it, or the energy to even try. Nothing was going to make you feel any better.

 You had no idea how much time had past when your bedroom door opened, letting in a little bit of light from the main part of the apartment. You had no energy to move, let alone talk. You didn’t want to do this. You didn’t want to have to fight Dean on this.

 “Y/N,” you heard as the bed dipped down next to you. You felt his hand coming down to the other side of your body. “How bad is it?”

 “What?” you mouthed.

 “The way you’re feeling. How bad?” he questioned. His tone was light. There wasn’t a single hint of anger or judgment.

 “‘M fine,” you replied, nuzzling your head into your pillow a bit more.

 “Y/N, please don’t lie to me. This is my fault; I know it is. Please just, talk to me,” he almost begged.

 “I would like you to leave,” you asked politely. You couldn’t handle the hurt in his voice. He was worried and you knew it was a long shot of him leaving after he seen you like this.

 “Not without a fight, sweetheart,” he half smiled. “C’mon.”

 He stood up, throwing the comforter back without your consent. You felt the draft instantly, wanting the warmth back. Before you could reach for it, Dean reached down, pulling you into his arms, lifting you out of bed. You could barely protest as he carried you into the bathroom. He placed you down on top of the counter before flicking on the light.

 “Alright, arms up,” he pointed to your shirt.

 “Dean,” you shook your head.

 “I’m going to say this as nicely as possible. You smell terrible. Now arms up. We’re showering,” he explained.

 “I don’t want to,” you protested, casting your head down.

 “Okay,” he nodded. “Then you can go for a bath instead. You can soak in there while I clean up your room.”

 “No,” you refused.

 “Y/N, please,” he declared, raising his voice just a little. He turned away from you, reaching your tub. He turned the nozzle, beginning to fill up the tub. He grabbed the bubble bath from the shelf, adding a good amount into the water before testing the temperature. He never uttered another word to you. You knew he was irritated with you, and you did nothing to make that any better. You were pathetic. Why was he sticking around?

 When he was satisfied with the bath, he made his way back to you. This time, you didn’t protest. You weren’t sure you had any fight left in you. He pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts to him once more. He didn’t look at you with the same lust filled eyes this time. Then again, this wasn’t the time or place. Next were your pants and your panties, which were off quickly. What you weren’t expecting was for him to carry you over to the tub. He was careful when he placed you in the water. It wasn’t too hot. It was the right temperature to provide you with some relief. It felt nice to be in the water.

 “I’m going to go clean up,” he stated lowly. For a split second, you didn’t want him to leave you. After telling him to leave so many times. After avoiding him for so long. You didn’t want him to go. If he was in here, you weren’t alone with yourself and your thoughts. You weren’t alone with your fears, and your depression. You would have him here with you and it was a lot less scary if he was here.

 “Stay,” you whispered. Your voice was weak and barely even there.

 “I’ll just be out there-”

 “Please,” you mouthed.

 “Alright,” he nodded. “You want me to wash your hair?” You nodded your head this time, not daring to try to speak again. He opened up the cupboard door, grabbing the pitcher from the shelf. He moved to the shower, grabbing your shampoo and conditioner from the perch before settling down next to the tub.

 You moved to the middle of the tub, giving him some room to work. You brought your knees to your chest, letting him do what he needed to do. He was gentle, which you should have expected but didn’t. He worked in silence, solely focused on washing your hair the best he could. You didn’t want to do anything to make him mad. You just let him do his thing.

 You couldn’t deny that it felt good to have him run his fingers through your hair. It was that comfort thing again. Like the way he kissed your head at his mom’s party. It was little things that put you at a little more ease. You never really realized just how much you missed him until you thought about these things.

 “I’m sorry,” you mouthed.

 “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he assured you, running his fingers through your wet hair once more. “You want to get out now so we can dry you off?”

 “Okay,” you breathed out. You moved your hands to the side of the tub, finding the energy to prop yourself up to a standing position. He reached for your arm, helping you climb out of the tub and onto the soft mat to dry your feet. He wrapped you in one of your warm towels, trying to dry you off the best he could. He held out his finger to you, taking off into your bedroom a second later. You moved the towel around your body, drying yourself off in all the places you knew Dean would miss.

 “Clean pyjamas,” he said as he stepped foot in the bathroom once more. Dean took the towel from you, and handed you the clean clothes in exchange. You managed to pull them on without too much of an effort. Dean stepped over to the counter, grabbing your hair brush off the little shelf. What you didn’t expect was for him to begin brushing your hair. You felt useless. You couldn’t even take care of yourself and it took to Dean barging into your apartment to help you for you to actually do something. He had to be thinking about how pathetic you were. How much of a broken fucking mess you were.

 “De-”

 “We’re going out,” he told you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You furrowed your brows. Where in the hell could he be taking you that you could be wearing your pyjamas. He lead you into your bedroom, heading over to your closest to grab you a sweater before exiting the room.

 You followed him into the now clean kitchen. He was setting out your comfortable slip on shoes for you, and he had your bag ready for you. You weren’t really up for going out, but there was no way he was taking no for an answer. Not this time. Even if you tried, you were still going. You were breaking routine, you told yourself. That was good.

 He threw his arm around you once more, pulling you into him as he lead you down the stairs and to the impala. The wind had picked up a little more, chilling you instantly due to your wet hair. Dean still opened the door for you first like the true gentleman that he was. You couldn’t wait for him to get in and turn the heating on.

 You were on the road within seconds, heading left instead of right, which was what you were expecting. The car heated up pretty fast, warming you up slowly. Dean hummed along to the Queen song that played on the radio. The car ride was pretty silent all in all. You didn’t know what to say to him. You were sure he didn’t know what to say to you at this point. You were a mess. You weren’t his responsibility.

 He made another left turn up a road you weren’t sure about. It was a dirt road that went uphill. You weren’t sure how long you were in the car for or where you were for that matter. Dean knew what he was doing and that was more than enough to put you at ease. The car eventually came to a halt and Dean cut the engine. You were at the top of the hill, overlooking the main part of the city.

 It was just starting to get dark out and the lights were becoming brighter. You couldn’t stop staring out the window, taking it all in. It was breathtaking. You took a deep breath, letting the calm feeling take over you. It was the first time in a long time that you felt a sense of ease. You didn’t want that feeling to leave you.

 “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Dean said lowly, grasping your attention.

 “Yeah,” you breathed out. You could sense that he wanted to say something more but chose not to. Not yet. You knew after everything he did for you, you owed him an explanation. You owned him something. There was no nice way to put any of it. You had no idea why he even cared. After everything with his mom. You knew she didn’t want you around him or any of them. You shouldn’t have been with him now.

 “Y/N,” he sighed, almost as if he was defeated.

 “I’m not okay,” you confessed. “But Dean, we can’t be friends.”

 “Why not?” he questioned.

 “Because your family hates me,” you reminded him. “Because for some reason that I don’t know about, they hate me. My existence was enough for your mom to tell me get away from her family. I’m not good enough for you, Dean. Or anyone for that matter.”

 “Is- is that why you didn’t answer any of my calls, or texts? Because you think you’re not good enough for me?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded. “Partially.”

 “I’ve been so fucking worried about you,” he revealed, turning to face you. “And clearly I’ve had a good reason to. Talk to me, Y/N.”

 “There is nothing to say,” you shook your head.

 “Yes there is,” he pointed out. “Since when do you not have something to say?”

 “Since my best friend’s mom hates me,” you raised your voice. “Since the one person I actually got along with was told to break up with me, because my bitch of a mom fucked your mom over in some way that I don’t even know about!” You let out a huff, crossing your arms over your body, trying to make yourself small.

 “I’m sorry,” he frowned. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve done something sooner. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

 “We can’t be friends, De-”

 “I don’t give a fuck what my parents think, Y/N,” he stated clearly. “I care about you. The one who stuck by my side even when she wanted to run. I’m never going to leave you behind because my parents feel a certain way. They can go to hell for all I care.”

 “I’m not going to be the one to break you from your parents, Dean. I’m not worth it,” you argued.

 “I’ll be the judge of that one,” he told you. “I like you and that’s all that matters. I’m not going another day without knowing you’re okay.”

 “You said you talked to your mom about what happened?” you brought up, finally turning to look over at him. He gave you a soft smile, motioning for you to move over to him. You took a deep breath, not fighting him this time. He threw his arm around you, tugging you into him, giving you a squeeze.

 “From what she told me, she said your mom and her were best friends growing up. From Kindergarten to junior year. She didn’t speak kindly of her, I’m going to tell you that now-”

 “I figured,” you shrugged.

 “Your mom cared more about her boyfriends that she did about her friendship with my mom. My parents were together in high school. Have been since sophomore year. Apparently they took a break during senior year and during that time, your mom hit on my dad and said a bunch of things about her to him. Their friendship was over after that and your mom took off. I know there has to be more to it, but that’s what she told me.”

 “I’m trying my hardest not to be like my mom,” you breathed out. “She made it pretty clear before she died that I was going to end up the same way as she did. A slut who was never going to settle down with anyone.”

 “Sweetheart, you’re not your mom,” Dean declared. “You’re not a slut. Trust me, someone is going to fall head over heels for you someday. You’re definitely a little naughty though, I’m not gonna lie.”

 “Shut up,” you let out a chuckle.

 “You are,” he laughed, “I’d fuck you anytime. You’re hot as hell.”

 “I’m a mess. You don’t want me,” you half joked, swallowing hard.

 “I’d take you no matter what,” he assured you. “Best sex I’ve ever had.”

 “You already know you’re the best I’ve ever had,” you shrugged. “Backseat is free.”

 “As much as I’d love that, I’m not sleeping with you. Not tonight,” he breathed out. “You’ve clearly got a lot going on and I’m not about to make that any worse for you. Just, don’t shut me out again, okay?” he said, nudging you.

 “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “Things just got dark, you know? My head got the better of me after that night and I just kinda stopped. Everything whirled around in my head and I convinced myself you were better off without me. After that, I felt trapped in a loop. Everyday was the same shitty routine. I didn’t want to talk to you because of what happened, and I worried that because your mom told you to break up with me, you were going to leave me in the end anyways. You deserved a better friend that your parents didn’t hate. On top of that, I never told you that I have bad anxiety and a bit of depression all wrapped up in this tight little box. I’m a mess nine times out of ten. And everything with my mom and growing up - I figured I’m only good for a night between the sheets and nothing more.”

 “You are worth a lot more than that, sweetheart. I can promise you that,” he stated, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You might have a few dents, but you aren’t broken and you aren’t a mess. You’ll always have me, no matter what. I’m right next door, neighbor.”

 “Thank you,” you nodded, swallowing hard. You leaned your head over, resting it on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible person the last three months.”

 “You do owe me a birthday present,” he joked. “I get it. I don’t mind helping you clean up your apartment when things get to be too much. I don’t want you to feel like you have to shut me out. I’m always here for you. I don’t care about what my parents think. You’re always going to be my friend. I’m not a kid and I can make decisions for myself.”

 “I might need you to remind me of that from time to time,” you shared. “I’m not going to be okay all the time. I’m never okay all the time.”

 “I’m a phone call and probably about twenty two steps away. Anytime,” he assured you.

 “Can - can you stay over tonight,” you inquired. “I don’t really feel like being alone. Not after three months of it.”

 “Only if I can sleep in your bed. I’m not sleeping on the couch,” he chuckled.

 “Yeah you can sleep in my bed,” you nodded.

 “Good. Your bed is comfortable,” he smiled. “We’ll get your room back in order this weekend.”

 “Thank you for being a good friend, even if I’m a shit friend.”

 “You’re not a shit friend, Y/N. You thought you were doing what was best for you at the time. You’re overprotective of yourself and I get it,” he smiled. “But remember I’m here for you.”

 “I know,” you breathed out. “Thanks for caring.”

 “Always!”

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

Part 4 will be out on Sunday 👀 

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Any theories? Please share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Nothing is stupid! I WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU! Your response is the ONLY thing keeping me sharing this story! 

Dean Babes

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[kali-writes-meta]

Old Habits Die Hard With a Vengeance: Faulty Behavior Patterns in "Fault"

Just as the first two episodes were all about setting plans in motion,

"Fault" was all about people's old behavior patterns failing them under the increasingly desperate circumstances. In just under 20 minutes most of the characters were shown needing to rethink their typical way of doing things and level up.

We start with Qrow, in jail as a result of a fiasco that ended with Tyrian murdering Clover with Qrow's weapon. He's processed what happened enough to realize that this failure had many fathers, including both Clover and himself.

Qrow confesses to exploiting Clover, using his Semblance to neutralize Qrow's Semblance. He's once again convinced that his Semblance makes him a social pariah. Robyn points out that her Semblance doesn't make other people comfortable around her either. (Can confirm. Being really good at spotting lies is not exactly a popular party trick.) Qrow starts to realize that something has to change.

(I hope he will work on truly mastering his Semblance. All he's ever done with it is try to suppress it or push it in a certain direction. If he can learn to flip the probability at will and direct it with pinpoint accuracy he would possess a formidable advantage.)

Harriet and Marrow deposit Watts back in the cellblock, and Harriet has a face-off with Robyn. Robyn points out that if Harriet wants the truth Robyn will provide it, but Harriet rejects the opportunity, in essence rejecting the truth. Both Harriet and Marrow seem shaken by Harriet's rejection of the truth, and with good reason. The Ace-Ops are a highly honored unit. Once Truth leaves the building, Honor follows not long after. If obeying Ironwood leads them to reject Truth, Honor won't be theirs for much longer. Like it or not, something is going to change.

Then we go to Yang, Jaune, and Ren trying to rescue Oscar from the Hound. Unfortunately for them the Hound keeps changing it's behavior. They can't keep up with the changes and lose. The Hound has changed the rules for what to expect from the Grimm. If they are ever going to beat the Hound, they must change their strategy.

Back on Atlas Ruby's team arrives at Schnee Manor with a severely injured Nora, who coincidentally in the last episode passed on the opportunity to try something new and instead doubled down on what she's done before, with disastrous effects to her health. (Not judging, just pointing out.) They are met by a decidedly out of sorts Whitley, who tells them the only other person there is Willow.

Of all the characters whose lives have been turned upside down in the last 24 hours, probably no one was less prepared for it than Whitley. Sure, having to deal with Jacques has made him used to instability, but as long as he could cling to and fawn over Jacques, he had a greater measure of safety than the others in the family. (Not judging, just pointing out.). Now that one stabilizer is gone and he is truly alone. Things have changed.

Whitley tries the supercilious behavior that Jacques approved of, but it cuts no ice with this crowd. He falls back on the passive-agressive behavior he's previously used with ice. It works just as badly.

"Fine. (dramatic sigh) What do you expect ME to do then?"

Some people thought that meant he was asking how he could help. Nope. That is passive-agressive sibling-speak for, "How are you going to inconvenience me THIS time?"

Weiss pulls out her inner Jacques. "Go to your room!"

Where did that come from? Well, Jacques. Weiss was under enormous stress and back where she had been abused for years. She reverted to acting like her abuser.

This is a GOOD thing in the long run. The myth is that simply getting away from a child abuser ends the abuse, when in real life the victim has to root out the tendency to act like their former abuser under stress. But victims also have a tendency to deny that they would ever do such a horrible thing -- until they do it. Weiss has done it in front of witnesses. That's the first step to rooting out the behavior in her psyche and truly ending the cycle of abuse.

Whitley acting like Jacques' flunky is probably not going to work for him anymore. Weiss acting like Jacques is probably not something she wants to repeat. Both of them are due for a change.

Meanwhile back on the tundra Ren is having the breakdown he's been repressing ever since learning Salem is immortal. I'll post more on Ren in a separate post, but right now it's enough to say that what he's been doing to cope isn't working. Jaune tries to tell him he needs to change his outlook, but Ren prefers to sulk. He knows something needs to change, but he is too depressed to see any change for the better happening.

Oscar is brought before Salem. Ozpin tries to reassure Oscar by repeating the line Salem told Ozma when he's reborn in the realm of Darkness, "It's going to be okay." Now I cut Ozpin a lot of slack, but not this time. It would be convenient for Salem to have Oscar alive and relatively sane, but that's an inexcusably low bar for "okay". Ozpin needs to change how he works with Oscar.

Salem interrogates Oscar. Oscar tries to act first like Ozpin, then like Ruby. Neither act cuts any ice with Salem, who leaves Hazel to beat a change of attitude into Oscar.

Upon leaving Salem runs into Cinder, who wants to chase after Penny. Salem, brings up Cinder's previous fiasco and orders her to stay her and do nothing without orders. Cinder acquiesces, repeating the line from the first episode, "Without you I am nothing."

Where did that line come from? None of the rest of Salem's Lot say it, so it probably comes from Cinder's earlier life. In all likelihood what Cinder does next probably comes from the same time and place -- sneak out behind the back of her boss to do what Cinder wants to do. That behavior may have worked in her last life, but I doubt it will work this time.

Neo clearly wants several changes, starting with a change of continent. Emerald is eager to regain Cinder's favor and go back to the way things used to be with Cinder. In her first appearance she was willing to break Cinder's rules and kill an informant to win Cinder's respect. Now she's willing to break Salem's rules for Cinder's regard. I doubt the second attempt is going to end any better than the first one did. The only question is, when will Emerald realize she needs to change her ways?

[pearl-star]

Two Way Link

When Marinette cracks and gets akumatized, it’s not what she’s expecting. Hawkmoth is equally confused and more worried than she is. Turns out the mindlink is a two way streak, and her earrings make the link even stronger. Needless to say, some secrets got revealed.

Marinette had allowed herself to imagine herself as an akuma before. It was kind of hard not to when their class started bets for if Marinette or Adrien would get akumatized first. It also didn’t help after seeing Chat Noir’s akumazation first hand. If she ever got akumatized, Hawkmoth wouldn’t win. Oh No. The world would be in ruins. So if it wasn’t already an obvious goal, Marinette made it her mission to never even let a butterfly touch her. Of course she’s only human, and when she’s sleep deprived and dealing with a lot of extra stress her emotions run rampant. Not only did she deal with both night and day akumas for the past week, she also had extra work planning the fundraising events and the school trip. Include all her requests from her friends for different things and her regular school work, Marinette was already at her breaking point. Top it off with a couple idiotic stories from Rossi while the girl would slip in comments dissing the bluenette, and you got the recipe for a perfect akuma victim.

Marinette wasn’t even in the right headspace to try to hold off her emotions. She simply nursed her large cup of coffee, that may or may not be the 6th cup of the day, as she stewed in her seat. Why was her class a bunch of idiots? Like Marinette cared for them still, don’t get her wrong, but they hanged off her every word like it was air. Why didn’t they get curious and do a little research of their own? It would have saved everyone the trouble. And Adrien’s dumb high road advice would do more harm than good. He’s worried about Lila getting akumatized? Try the whole class when the truth gets out. Of course, Marientte had almost been akumatized because of Lila. Maybe she should have slipped that into her conversation with Adrien. That might have changed his mind. It didn’t matter much now though. She had just begun to speak normally around him. He might think that Marinette was lying about it to make him see her way, and that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

No one even noticed the butterfly coming into the room. It was only noticed when it landed on the coffee cup that Marinette held and the glowing mask appeared on her face. Very quickly, the class turned around and stared at their class rep. Marinette merely blinked a few times before groaning. “Really!? Come on! I was doing so good until now. Okay, you know what, fine. You want to akumatized me? Whatever. Just put the butterfly somewhere other than my coffee. I need that if I’m going to make it through today. You’re to blame for this, by the way. You couldn’t have just stopped with the akumas for the day could you. I mean one a day is bad enough. Why did you have to do two in one day? And at, like, 2am dude? Really?” Hawkmoth was just confused as the rest of her class. Marinette’s face scrunched up before her jaw dropped. “WAIT! GABRIEL AGRESTE!? YOU’RE HAWKMOTH!!?” The class paused before freaking out. Hawkmoth paled. He didn’t even get time to do his monologue before the girl started to speak out at him. As he started to reading deeper into her thoughts, he realized something. “You’re… Ladybug?” He was honestly surprised that this clumsy girl could possibly be Ladybug. Marinette just scowled. “Oh stop. I can feel your judgment from here. It’s a secret identity for a reason. Of course I’ll act differently with magical jewelry. Except, you don’t act too different than you do in real life. Maybe treat your son better, will you? He needs to have a backbone for when Rossi and Cholé drape themselves over him.” Cholé gasped and Lila tried to turn the tale but Marinette continued.

“I’ll give Cholé the benefit of the doubt since she had been childhood friends with him, but what Lila’s doing is bordering of sexual harassment. And you employed her as a model too. Like do you even care about you own son’s mental well-being?” Gabriel made the mistake of thinking about Lila and Marinette’s face shifted from shock to neutral. “Okay, so you made her spy on Adrien and report back to you as well as cause akumas. Got it. And that’s an interesting fact about her willingly getting akuamtized. Too bad my class has become too ignorant to realize that every word she says is nothing more than bull crap.” Hawkmoth, Gabriel, should have tried to rein her in. However when he tried it, magic was interfering. It was something that Nooroo had warned him about once before when he expressed the desire to akumatized Ladybug or Chat Noir. They would naturally have more resistance to him, especially Ladybug since her powers balanced for good and becoming evil would take drastic measures. Before he could try to act, the girl spoke again. “Oh, it’s nice to know that you at least let Nooroo talk. Seriously, I forgot about that whole Sandboy fiasco for a second. You couldn’t have at least allowed Nooroo to enjoy his whatever number cycle in peace. You had to traumatize so many people by creating their nightmares.” No one noticed as Adrien slipped away to transform.

Plagg flew out of his pocket and had the audacity to be laughing. “What is so funny?!” He demanded. Marinette was akumatized! Not only that, but she was Ladybug. Ladybug was akumatized and the akuma won’t be purified. Nor would any of the damage be reversed. Not to mention that his own dad was apparently Hawkmoth. Plagg caught his breath and was able to speak. “I’m sorry, but it’s too funny! This love square you guys had going on was great entertainment already. Top that with what Spots is doing and it’s gold.” Adrien decided to ignore what Plagg was saying for now and transform instead. While he was doing that, Marinette decided to discover something very important: what Gabriel’s motivation was.

Marinette clamped a hand to her mouth as she pulled the memory from his mind. Then that shock turned to hot rage. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” ALL THIS TIME YOU HAVE KEPT YOUR WIFE IN A GLASS COFFIN IN YOUR FUCKING BASEMENT LAIR?!?” Hawkmoth actually flinched from the raw power and anger she emanated. He made the mistake of recalling the peacock miraculous, setting the girl off on another tangent. “AND YOU’RE ALLOWING NATHALIE TO USE A BROKEN MIRACULOUS?!? Wow! Just, Wow!” Maybe if he detransformed and left now, he wouldn’t have to face the girl’s wrath. Nooroo’s powers allowed them to feel the strength of a person’s emotions. Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s emotions showed that even without powers or a miraculous, she would kill him with her bare hands. If he was told a day before that she would be capable of murder, he would never have believed it. Now though, he was scared.

It was at that time that Chat Noir decided to bust in. He was both shocked and impressed that Marinette was still holding out. Maybe if he destroyed the object now she won’t be transformed. Of course would that negatively effect her somehow? Before he could ponder it longer, the girl in question acted first. “You better meet me in front of your mansion and give me both the butterfly and peacock miraculous. You also better fire Rossi and put a restraining order on her so she can’t touch Adrien again. Otherwise this cup will be replaced with your neck.” Marinette crushed the cup with her hand and the butterfly flew out. Standing up, she called on her transformation before her kwami could protest. She swiped the akuma out from the air and looked around. The whole class was quite. Lila didn’t even try to say anything, and in fact she shrunk under her stare. “Alrighty then. Time to go kitty.” She walked calmly out of the room, ignoring everything that just had happened. Chat paused before following her.

Back in his lair, Gabriel detransformed from shock. Nooroo tried to hide his smirk. Wordlessly, he went back into the main part of his house and approached Natalie. She looked confused. “What’s wrong? I thought you were finally akuamtizing Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Gabriel just shook his head and held his hand out. He was slightly shaking. “Just give me the peacock miraculous. Turns out, she’s a lot more dangerous than expected.” Natalie wanted to question her boss, but he seemed to be in shock. She did as asked and followed him as he walked out the front doors of the mansion. Outside was a smiling Ladybug and a concerned Chat Noir. Ladybug’s smile looked dangerous, like she was giving a warning. When Gabriel willingly handed over both miraculouses, Ladybug laughed. A dangerous sweetness dripping out. “Thank you! Also you better be honest with what you’re wife was doing with the miraculous when the police question you. I’ll see if the damage can be undone without the potential for ending the world. Oh also I will be taking your son away. He deserves better parents and I’m sure that mine will spoil him. Chat you take his assistant, I’ll grab him. It’s time to drop them off.” Chat grabbed Natalie and had her over his shoulder before she could react. Ladybug did the same to Gabriel, ensuring that neither could make a grab for their miraculouses.

A lot of things happened on that day. Hawkmoth and Mayura were announced to be defeated. Gabriel confessed to having Lila work for him both as a spy and as a willing accomplish for Hawkmoth. Adrien’s mom was brought to a hospital and Master Fu repaired the peacock miraculous and reversed the damage done to both her and Natalie. Lila was taken off to serve time in juvie and the two adults went to jail. Adrien was not to blame and was unofficially adopted by Marinette’s parents, which resulted in him spending a lot of time at the bakery. Adrien’s mom and Gabriel both revealed how she was forced into the marriage and forced to use the miraculous against her will. She got a divorce and ensured that Adrien got therapy. He was able to quit modeling and even got a restraining order against Lila just in case. He revealed himself to Marinette after a month and they decided to date. Her class did everything to make it up to the bluenette, but she merely shrugged at their words. She could care less now. They only wanted her to be their friend again because she was Ladybug. She and Chat announced their retirement to Paris two weeks after Hawkmoth’s defeat, although she still got to see Tikki and Plagg. It seemed like getting akumatized was the best thing that had happened to her.

[ververa]

“Who is in control?”

A/N: Would you believe me if I tell you this was an accident? I did not plan on writing it, because I never felt like anyone could top Wilhemina Venable, but then I had this idea and oh well...

Wilhemina Venable x reader

Words count: ~4,000

Wilhemina Venable had never been a people person. The truth was she didn't like people at all, the same as she didn't like surprises. Especially if they were attractive, successful, witty and bossy. She wouldn’t know that if it hadn’t been for you. Because you, Y/N Y/L/N a new investor and a future partner of The Cooperative happened to display all of those features.

It’s not like you did anything specific to make the redhead rage. Just your presence itself was enough. You seemed so perfect, both inside and outside. Beautiful, smart, compassionate, empathetic. And she hated it. You were just too good. Too good to be real. But you were. You were real, well and alive and right there, approaching her desk on your way to Matt and Jeff, as you did every morning for the past week or so.

“Good morning, Ms Venable” you greeted, that melodious voice of yours and that charming smile plastered to your face made her go crazy 

“Good morning” she said, straightening in her chair 

She hated you. How could anyone be so perfect? She wondered looking you up and down as you were standing there, going over some papers.

“Are you alright, Ms Venable?” you asked, interrupting her thoughts

“Of course. What makes you think I’m not, Ms Y/L/N?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact you’re starring and practically drooling like those cute dogs in videos” you raised your eyebrow, challengingly 

“Very pawky for such a frippet like you. Felicitations, Ms Y/L/N!”

“Did that impress you?” 

“Do I look as if I was impressed?”

“It’s hard to say actually”

“Well… I’m not. As a matter of fact I’m rather disturbed by your fulsome indecorum. Now, I’d like to confabulate some more, but  I have work to do”

You laughed. You loved teasing her like that. That hint of satisfaction on her face whenever you let her come down on you made your day complete.

“It was nice to see you too, Ms Venable” and just like that you left, as if nothing happened, as if you hadn’t just made Wilhemina flustered. 

It was yet another thing about you that she despised. The fact you were so eloquent. Yet still she had to admit, it was nice to finally have a worthy opponent. But you didn’t have to make her feel all the things she felt when you were around. Nervous, shy even. With you she felt small, faulty, not even half as good as she wished she was.

You, with all the power and glory you carried, confidence hidden inside you, all the money and fame, made her, Wilhemina Venable feel intimidated. And that’s why she hated you. Or she claimed so. She hated you, because no one could ever measure up to her, at least on the intellectual level. And then you appeared. You managed to change it during your first meeting. It was less than a minute, maybe half a minute, but it changed everything. You swept her off her feet within seconds, because somehow you could equal her or maybe, actually, outmaster her. And that, the fact you seemed so flawless made her mad. It annoyed her, because the truth was no one could equal you. No one compared to you. Wilhemina would never admit it, but she was jealous. Jealous of you.

And yet she couldn’t hate you to the fullest, simply because you never caused any harm. In fact, you were the only one who displayed some basic knowledge of etiquette and refinement. And that was a remarkable part of you. The part that struck her in the first place. Something that impressed her. Of course, she would never admit it, because that would indicate she liked you. And she did not. She didn't like anyone, and you weren't an exception. That's what she decided. The decision was final and there was nothing more to be said. But as the time passed, Wilhemina found herself being less and less sure of it.

One part of her wanted to be you, but then there was that piece, a little tad of her that wanted to be with you. She desired you like she had never ever desired anything or anyone before. And that was confusing. It made her feel weak. It made her lose control. And so she decided not to like you, because it was easier than allowing her desires to win. Than admitting she wasn't all that cold and heartless as she wanted people to think she was.

But you could see through her. You knew better than anyone, because you noticed everything.

You knew that all she desired was to be wanted. What she craved and feared the most was intimacy. Being vulnerable. Being close with another person. That was the major reason for her acting the way she did. For her pretending to be so indifferent. 

From the very beginning you realized the two of you were actually pretty alike. Two individuals. Two strong, independent people. So indifferent and unimpressed by the world. Bored. Stone-cold, yet still able to be warmed up. There just had to be that certain kind of spark. The right type of person with particular qualities that the process required.

And you were dead sure you felt that spark with Wilhemina. That's what made you want to give it a try. Though convincing Wilhemina to take a chance on you wasn't all that easy. She was stubborn, but so were you. 

You had got your mind set on her and you kept persisting. You always got what you wanted and it wasn't going to be any different this time.

You knew she was warming up more and more with each passing day. With every little conversation and playful, witty argument the two of you shared. She was caving in to you. Slowly and reluctantly, but she was. Even if she didn't like it, she couldn't resist you no matter how hard she'd try.

But you gave her time, so that she could figure it out on her own. So that she would admit she wanted you. And you knew for a fact that she would, eventually. And if she wouldn't, you were ready to help her with that. The costs didn't matter. You were going to make the one and only Wilhemina Venable spit it out no matter what.

You were well aware of what you were doing. The same as you knew you could allow yourself to do it. Nothing and no one could make you stop. You realized it wasn't necessarily right. You might have been bad, in fact, but, the truth was - you were good at it. What's more, you liked it and you knew she did too. 

And that thrill the desire brought you. The rush of adrenaline. The warmth filling your body. It was worth the effort. She was worth the effort. There was no way you'd turn back.

"So, Ms Venable, are you going to the party tonight?" you asked 

Wilhemina's eyes shifted from her laptop to your form. You were standing there, so close to her, basically in her space, as you were leaning against her desk. You were the one, who could ever do something like that. Got so close and remained completely unbothered, being so confident at the same time. And made her feel weak. And hot. And mad. And annoyed. You gave her so many intensive feelings. What was she supposed to do? Was there any rescue?

"No" she said emotionlessly. If only you knew how much it cost her.

"What do you mean 'no'? You have to"

"Who says so?"

"I do" you answered confidently

Wilhemina looked up at your face, your eyes met. You gave her that wicked smile she couldn't stand. It was as if you were telling her "I'm in control. You're playing my game". Where did that confidence about your superiority come from? Or what made you believe that you could actually make her comply? The redhead wondered, as she looked you in the eye. Completely cool. Composed. Indifferent on the outside. Burning from inside. 

She was well aware that you were the one shuffling the cards of the game. She allowed you to. Why? She didn't know. All she knew, she was waiting in vain for your final move, for you to play your ace. But you were taking it slow. Torturing her. Making her deteriorated into nothing but insanity. Keeping your intentions to yourself. So enigmatic. But mysteries were exciting after all.

"I'm not sure if you could tell, but I'm not exactly a people person"

"Ahh. Yes. As always reserved and ungetatable. But I think you're not as dark and cold as you want people to think. So, could you just once embrace joy? Be my guest. I can guarantee you won't regret it" you offered her a small smile

"I already do"

"Well, does that mean yes?"

"That better be good"

"Oh, it'll be. Have some faith in me, Ms Venable" you winked

Wilhemina rolled her eyes.

"The chauffeur will pick you up at 7" was the last thing you said before disappearing in the elevator.

Wilhemina shook her head. How did it come to that? How come she went from accidental mistaking you for an incompetent secretary to, actually, secretly admiring you as the boss? The redhead sighed as the memories overfilled her mind. And why would she still remember that, when she didn't give a toss about you? Well, maybe she did. In fact, after giving it a second thought, very reluctantly and cautiously, she must admit she did care. Sort of. Just a tiny bit, but not too much. You weren't a deific creature after all. You weren't anything special… and yet you turned everything upside down. It felt as if she was on a carousel and you, you were the music that dictated the tempo. The kind of tempo she hadn't known before. Exhilarating. 

Wilhemina may have tried all she wanted to keep telling you and everyone else that she didn't like parties and didn't want to go. She could argue, but you knew it wasn't honest. Deep inside she was curious. Curious about the fancy reception. Curious about your house. But what she was interested in the most was you. 

And still Wilhemina wouldn't admit it. Not in her everyday stamping ground. Not at work. Not when there still was an oddment of dignity, sense of superiority and control coming from within her. 

But it was all gone when you were near. When you stood too close to her, she couldn't be strong. She couldn't defeat you. She couldn't fight it. Whenever she looked into your eyes, she lost control and she didn't know how to stop it. You were unstoppable. I can't go. She told herself. She knew she'd be completely lost if she went. There would be no grounding, nothing that could rescue her. Nothing to stop her from falling.

"Ms Venable? What have I done to deserve your visit?" you asked, as you let her into your office.

Wilhemina looked at you, but she averted her eyes almost immediately. You looked too good. And those glasses you wore while working… it was too much to handle for her. Too much to contain herself. She chid herself. She moved forward. Proud, dignified.

"I came, because on second thought, I'll not be able to squire your party"

You stopped on your way to the desk. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You had been giving in to all her mood swings, allowing her to decide, giving her the illusion of power. But you were done. You couldn't keep holding it back. That's where you drew a line. You had your limits too. 

"You don't come off as a creature of whims or caprices, so where does this change come from?" you turned to face her, your hands in the pockets of your jeans, thumbs sticking out of them

"I'm busy this Friday"

"What, are you having a headache planned in advance?"

"No... I have no desire to spend time with stupid people"

"Neither do I" you said, taking off your glasses and putting them down on your desk "That's why I want you to come" you continued, resting one hand on your hip.

Wilhemina's eyes widened. She did not expect that. She was sure it'd go smoothly, but, of course, you had to complicate it. Why was she surprised? You always did that. You always made things harder for her. 

"One hour. That's all I ask for. And if you won't like it, you'll be free to go"

It didn't sound too bad. One hour didn't seem that long. Perhaps, she could do that.

"Fine" she said, both hands clutching the top of her cane

"Wonderful!" you smirked with satisfaction "I'm glad we reached a compromise"

How she hated you. You were so overconfident. So cocky. So alluring. So hard to resist.

Wilhemina couldn't focus on her work. Not when you were still there. Not after your conversation. She just sat there, at her desk, blankly staring at her laptop. Of course, that was until you appeared. At times she wondered if you were doing it on purpose. If torturing her was giving you satisfaction. Or if driving her insane was your aim.

"It's time for me" you stated "But I decided I'll call by your desk first"

"What for?" Wilhemina asked and only then did she notice a giant box in your hands

"Well, I figured you may come up with another excuse to get away with the party" you carefully placed the box on her desk "Now" you tapped on top of it "You have no plausible excuse. Remember 7pm. Don't be late"

"I'm never late"

"Good. See you then" you winked, before putting on your sunglasses and leaving.

Wilhemina waited for you to disappear. Only then did she bring herself to open the box. Inside, neatly packed in wrapping paper was a dress. Fancy, long, purple dress. It was exactly her type. There was no label, but by the high quality of material Wilhemina could say it was expensive. She carefully touched it. She must say it was beautiful and she liked it, even though it was a gift from you. And then she noticed a little piece of paper. A note from you.

Wilhemina huffed as she read "It's a date" written in your perfect handwriting.

~~~

Never late. You rolled your eyes as you looked at your watch. It was past 7 and Wilhemina still wasn't there. Your house was full of people - businessmen, investors, different companies' directors and you. Was it possible that she stand you up? You wondered, stuck in some boring conversation. You were done. You needed a drink. 

You excused yourself, giving your interlocutors a small smile. You made it to one of the tables and took a glass of champagne. That's when you heard her.

Wilhemina cleared her throat and hit her cane on the wooden floor, announcing her presence You smiled to yourself. What a relief.

"You're late" you said, composing yourself, before you turned round. You stopped in your tracks as your eyes set on her. "You're stunning" you complimented looking her up and down "You're forgiven"

"How generously of you, Ms Y/L/N" she tried not to smile

"May I give you a tour?" you asked offering her your hand

Wilhemina nodded, but didn't take your hand.

"Let's go then"

You led her through the mansion. Occasionally making some comments about the interior or decorations. Doing your best to avoid getting into any kind of interaction with other guests, who kept greeting you or waving or smiling at you, as you led Wilhemina forward. That was until you reached that one room - the library. You let Wilhemina in and then closed the door, sighing in relief as you did so.

The redhead looked around. Antique furniture, exquisite vases, first edition books. That's what surrounded you.

"Must be really nice to just snap your fingers and get whatever you want" she commented

"My money is the least impressive thing about me babe" you shrugged, approaching her

"Don't ever call me babe!" Wilhemina stopped and turned to face you

"Why not?" you asked innocently, too innocently

"Don't tempt me"

"I wouldn't dare to" you gave her a sly smile

"You're infuriating" Wilhemina closed her eyes

"Am I?" you raised your eyebrow playfully

"I hate you" she growled

"No, you don't. You're being ridiculous right now. You love it. You live for it. For me teasing you. And you're dying to see where it goes. Just admit I'm right"

"No"

"Why?"

"You don't get to tell me what to do" she crossed her arms across her chest, protecting herself

"Of course I do" you stepped closer

"No. No, you don't. No one gets to control me"

"Oh, but I do" you smirked

"No one tops me"

"Is that so?" you put your hands on hers 

"Y-yes" she stuttered at the sudden physical contact

"You're so much fun to tease" you gently uncrossed her arms and moved closer. She took a step back. You followed her. She wanted to move again, but there was no more space. Her back pressed against a wall. You smiled, taking her hands and throwing them around your neck. 

Wilhemina's heart was beating faster and faster as you were getting closer. Inch by inch. 

"Not so fast" she stopped you "I-it's not that easy with me…"

"Don't worry. I've got time" you smiled and leaned in. Your lips touched hers. At first they barely brushed against hers. You didn't want to overwhelm her after all. You kept things slow. Devoured her.

At first Wilhemina tensed up. She wasn't used to people being so close to her. Being so intimate. Making her feel weak. Vulnerable. Hesitant. Reluctant.

"It's okay" you soothed. She closed her eyes.

"Do you have any idea of how long I've wanted to do it?" you said against her lips

"No…" she said. Her eyes still closed. Her breathing shallow.

"From the day I saw you in my office for the first time" you continued and kissed her again. This time more passionately. Your hands rested on the wall, on both sides of her body. You pulled away, but then almost immediately began kissing down her neck. It didn't take long before you found her pulse point and began sucking on it.

Wilhemina moaned. The sound came off as a surprise. It was embarrassing. Intimidation took over her. She didn't realize… she didn't mean to... Her eyes snapped open, wide in horror, but you were there to sooth her. 

"Don't. Don't shy away"

Your lips collided again. Gently. Carefully. Slowly exploring the parts of her that probably no one ever had. She let you. She relaxed. She gave in.

"No one can top you, huh?" you teased, using your foot to part her legs, before pressing your thigh to her core

Wilhemina moaned again.

"That's it, darling" you kisses her jaw "I can top whoever I want to" you moved to her neck again "Whenever I want to" 

You moved your hands to her waist. Then began rolling up her dress, carefully, so as not to destroy it. Not now, when she'd have to go back to the party. Your hands slid under the material.

"Y/N…" she stopped you, using your name for the very first time. 

"What?" you looked at her

"Y-you want to do it here?"

"Yes" you nodded, at that point you were sure it was rather obvious

"Now? W-what about the guests?" she questioned 

"Isn't the thrill of getting caught half of the fun?" you pecked her lips, before attaching your mouth to her neck again. Wilhemina gasped at the sensation.

"Now, tell me. Who is in control?"

"You"

"Louder" you demanded, moving your thigh

The redhead inhaled sharply.

"You! You are, Y/N"

"That's it. Good girl" you kissed her forehead, before pulling away. Wilhemina opened her eyes, confused. Suddenly missing your warmth. Missing the sensation of your hands on her. Missing the feeling of your thigh between her legs.

You straightened your suit. Wilhemina examined your face, searching for answers.

"My assistant is coming" you stated as if it was something obvious. Wilhemina frowned and suddenly the door opened.

"Ms Y/L/N!" a young man called you "Mr-" he was about to say something, but you cut him off

"George, how many times do I have to tell you that you're supposed to knock? What if I was here with Ms Venable half naked and on her knees? That would be a very awkward situation, wouldn't it?"

Wilhemina's eyes widened at your words. Her cheeks turning red as the boy nodded.

"We wouldn't want it, would we?"

"No, Ms Y/L/N"

"Then learn how to knock for fuck's sake!"

"Yes,  ma'am" he said, leaving and closing the door

 You turned to look at Wilhemina again. Your features softened immediately. You were about to move towards her again, but a knock interrupted you.

"What?!" you asked, taking a deep breath to calm down

George opened the door again.

"Mr Johnson wants to talk about the-"

"I'm coming. I'll be there in a sec"

He nodded and left, at which you sighed. Wilhemina watched you intently.

"It won't take long. You can wait here, because I assume you changed your mind and you'll stay"

"I will"

"Good" you pulled her in for one more kiss

Wilhemina placed her hands on your arms, dragging her nails up and down.

"I scratch and bit" she said against your lips, before doing as she said and biting your lower lip

You smirked. "You'll beg and crawl too" you winked at her, as you pulled away "I'll see you, Ms Venable" you said, handing Wilhemina her cane that landed on the floor at some point of your making out.

She smiled and nodded, thinking that maybe you weren't all that bad after all. Because, although, despite… she didn't hate you that much. Maybe she, in fact, could like you. Yes. Perhaps she could. No, she did. Yes. She did. She decided she liked you.

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange, @natasha-danvers, @stopkillinglilyrabe, @welshdragonrawr, @saucy-sapphic, @yang12e, @xixxiixx​

[atlantis-scribe]

FEBUWHUMP 2021 — DAY 27

[ day 27 - “i wish i had never given you a chance” ]

.

.

It had been a day after they found out that Samantha Carter was going to be the new Atlantis Commander when John saw Rodney in the balcony closest to the gate room.

“Five moons.”

John barely heard it over the sound of  the doors sliding shut. “What?”

“Only two are visible to the naked eye, though,” Rodney continued, back still turned to him. “Has a Class-G star, just like Earth’s Sun. It’s pretty nice.”

It’s not often that one could catch Rodney McKay in a somber and contemplative mood, but every time John did, it freaked him out.

“Carter already told me,” John tried, making sure his drawl came out the way Rodney had always said made him sound like a hillbilly. “And please don’t tell me this is you moping about her being our new boss. I’m sure she’s not really going to ruin your life. There’s gonna be so much on her plate, you probably won’t even make it to Priority C.”

That the comment got absolutely no recognition made goosebumps rise on John’s skin.

“‘I wish I had never given you a chance.’”

John froze. “McKay . .”

“That’s what Elizabeth said to me after Doranda,” Rodney went on, eyes still fixed on the twin moons. “She felt horrible about it. Took it back right away. But I heard it. And it hurt almost as much as the first time my little sister told me she hated me and meant it.”

Elizabeth had confessed just as much to John as soon as the argument ended and Rodney was dismissed. In his own anger and disappointment, John had almost agreed.

“She was right, of course. She’s always right.”

This time, when Rodney turned to him, John wished he didn’t. The look on Rodney’s face brought back everything John had been trying to ignore for the past week, and seeing it so plainly in the other man’s big blue eyes took his breath away.

“Rodney.” John swallowed the burning in his throat, his fingers twitching for the right words. “You know that’s not true.”

“It is. I fucked up. And this time, it’s more than just a bunch of rocks. My ego cost us Elizabeth, and I don’t know how I can get past that. How you can ever get past that.”

Despite what John had felt when he heard about what Rodney did, he knew Rodney’s wrong about this one. It wasn’t ego that drove him to such desperate measures. It was all fear, and it’s the kind John knew all too well.

“We’re gonna bring her back,” he said instead, because empty promises were always better than ill-time confessions. “You’ll find a way to defeat the Replicators, and we’ll bring her home.”

John didn’t know who was more surprised, him or Rodney, when Rodney suddenly grabbed his wrist.

“Promise me,” he told John, almost frantic. “Promise me, John. When this happens again, you have to stop me. When we’re about to do something wrong just because we don’t wanna lose anyone, even when other people get hurt, promise me you won’t let us. That you won’t let me. We need to be better, for Elizabeth’s sake.”

“Rodney. . .”

“We can’t keep deciding who lives and who dies. It has to stop now. You have to promise me.”

“I can’t.”

There’s tears in Rodney’s eyes as he holds John’s gaze, and John feels like he’s on the edge of a cliff, with nothing to brace him for the steep fall.

“Please,” Rodney begs.

John nods, the ice in his spine crystallizing. He knows this will change everything, maybe even make Rodney hate him forever, but he doesn’t care.

He likes Jeannie enough, finds her hilarious and brilliant and a damn good mother.

But she’s not worth this. Not Jeannie, or a grieving father. Not even Atlantis, if push comes to shove. Nothing is worth this.

“I’m sorry.”

[a-bit-too-much-of-a-zelda-fan]

The Face Shrine Theme: An Analysis of Link's Awakening

Link’s Awakening is a pretty damn good game. I’ve finished the Switch remake twice now. When I play a video game, especially when it’s Zelda, I like to absorb as much media and conversation surrounding it as possible. When I do that, sometimes I piece together one person’s ideas with another’s, and now we have some new analysis. I've got some things to say about the Face Shrine's theme.

Part 1: The Music

To start, I’m going to paraphrase parts of JalopesTL’s YouTube video “The Strangest Song in Link’s Awakening.” This is by no means a complete summary of the video and you should definitely check it out. The Gameboy’s sound chip only had four channels: three that could carry a tune, and one that created “noise” for percussion or sound effects.

The composers for Link’s Awakening used three techniques to create a dreamlike sonic landscape that took advantage of the limited technology: 1) using one or two channels to add a delay/reverb/echo to the primary melody, 2) Using sparse arrangements that freed up those extra channels, and 3) manipulating the volume of certain elements of the music. The track that Jalopes uses to demonstrate all three techniques being used effectively is none other than the theme of Level 6: The Face Shrine.

The Face Shrine theme is one melody carried on one channel and delayed on the other two. What’s more, the volume of the song is constantly changing. It might gradually get louder, and louder, then drop down to the quietest possible in the very next measure. When the song is at its loudest, the delay is barely perceptible. When the song is at its quietest, the delay is very apparent.

The effect of these three techniques makes the song feel unnerving and contemplative. You’re constantly on edge. It refuses to let you find a comfortable pattern to settle into. And I am so glad that I found this video because it really explains why this track is, as Jalopes describes it, “one of the most powerful chiptunes I’ve ever heard.” The composers of the Switch remake understood this, which we can see by the fact that the new Face Shrine theme includes the original chiptune.

Part 2: The Response

This one track is only made more impactful by its placement in the story of Link's Awakening. I can only say so much that hasn’t already been said, so I’m going to let some YouTube commenters speak for me. I found all of these on videos of the Face Shrine theme, original and remake. I have made a few minor edits for clarity, but they are mostly intact. When you read these insightful and emotional comments, keep in the back of your mind the things that the composers did to make this song elicit those emotions.

Love the complete tone shift this game takes. You get a feeling something is off once you beat the Catfish Maw boss then you go to the southern shrine and learn the truth and the haunting feeling lingers over you throughout the next dungeon and the rest of the game. The last dungeons and part of this adventure are very unique. Only almost matched by the feeling of Majora's mask that feeling of inevitability. Nothing matters. This song perfectly encapsulates it.

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“I like how the volume of the song alternates between being quiet and distant, and loud and inescapable. Really completes the disorientating, sad atmosphere of the whole shrine.”

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I love how it goes louder and deafening when breaking the solemn notes as if putting you it that “please shut up!/go away!” The mindset Link is probably in due to the intrusive thoughts of the reality he’s facing.

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This theme really puts the feeling behind the realization that by waking the Wind Fish, you are sentencing the world of Koholint Island to vanish without a trace. And the world knows, and is trying its hardest to stop you.

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You feel gloomy. Scared. Lost. You’ve just learned that you are in a fake world. A dream. Is it really? Was the stone lying? You feel the same baffled, gloomy feeling, as you enter the next dungeon, not even realizing how long it took to get here. The game even throws you with an almost useless item to keep the excitement and happiness away. And you get hit with this masterpiece of a song. The same sad feeling you felt before, and wonder if all of your journeys, friends, kids, and creatures you have met along the way were all for nothing.

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Reading most people's interpretations in this song, I heard it a bit differently... I heard it as Link finally learning that it's all a dream, but this world, the people who live in it and keep their schedules, the shop keeper, the crane game owner, the rapids attendant, the family of 6, the animals, Madam MeowMeow, the fisherman, the mermaid, the shy grandfather, the sweeping grandmother, Tarin, Dampe, Marin, everyone... Link has to destroy it all. Despite everyone liking Link, he has to be their destroyer. And for the hero who defeated Ganon and brought back all who were trapped in the Dark World... This is something tragic he has to come to terms with. The hero must betray those he wanted to protect, those that care about him, and their entire world.

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Forget what you know about the game after beating it. Think of what Link must have felt at this moment. Enemies have started telling you that your efforts will ruin everything. Your guiding owl is growing less emotionally supportive and more direct about leading you on to complete your quest. You just got done having a heart-to-heart with a pure maiden who wants nothing more than to go around the world singing her songs for anyone and everyone. She just barely got done braving the island's newfound, monstrous dangers just to help you out. You've freshly learned that, if you complete this quest, you will remove her and her whole island from existence. And now you're taking your first step into the next dungeon on the way to make it happen. Yeah, this theme is fitting.

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Incredibly powerful. Especially knowing that this dungeon in particular has the moment of desperation in conversation with the boss. It just feels so sad and haunting and beautiful. Was holding back tears the entire time I played it.

I’ll leave you with one more comment. This one was on a video for the remade song. I saved this for last because every comment before was a reflection by someone who is clearly emotionally mature enough to understand the story of Link's Awakening. They had the ability to connect the music and the feelings they got from it with the story in a way that deepened their understanding of the text. Here's something a bit different.

So I'm going through this with my son. He’s five. Normally he’s engaged. "Dad, go left. Dad, get that treasure. Dad, let me see the map." But after a couple minutes, he’s quiet. Not a peep. I think maybe he’s tired or just not paying attention. After about ten minutes I ask, "You okay bud?" His response: "Yeah, I just want to hear the pretty song."