#there's a little adjustment period where he is VERY prickly with everyone but he gets the hang of it very quickly

[hailsatanacab]

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

[absentlyabbie]

family and (mis)fortune

or, tommy merlyn accidentally part-time joins the batfam

hello, please enjoy and have mercy, pretty much all of my batfam knowledge is informed either by batman: the animated series or tumblr posts. be gentle with me, i know so little about jason todd, i’m doing my best

this meta developed over whatsaspp in messages to @andyouweremine, @acheaptrickandacheesyoneline, and @storiesofimagination

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Just a fun little notion to mull over: Malcolm Merlyn dies/disappears (hallelujah) in the two years after his wife’s death and leaving his child behind. Accident and happenstance bring Tommy Merlyn, orphan, to the attention of Bruce Wayne. And thus Tommy becomes a part time foster sibling to the batfam

(lol the above was supposed to be it, the end, literally the entire whole thing, but then all the rest happened)

Like. Say Bruce (probably he knew Rebecca?) takes over custody of Tommy. For the sake of the boy and his clear attachment to the Queens, especially Oliver, Bruce has Tommy enrolled as a boarding student at Starling Academy. So the boys still get to spend the school year together, and sometimes in the summer or over holidays Oliver visits in Gotham

And Tommy is pretty much just a part time addition to the Bruce Wayne orphans-who-eerily-resemble-me collection, so it’s several years before he catches on even a little to what Bruce and older foster brother Dick get up to after dark

But eventually he DOES find out. And maybe he doesn’t suit up too, but Bruce can’t have one of his kids knowing about Batman and not prepared to protect himself so he gets a lot of the same training

(Meanwhile Tommy grows up with siblings and a father figure(s)—heyyy Alfred—who show him care and don’t abuse him. And maybe even therapy. But also he gets to maintain his closeness to Oliver and even Thea because he still spends most of the year in Starling)

As a better adjusted dude all around Tommy is probably a moderately better influence on Oliver. Like he can’t change everything but maybe things are mitigated. Then the gambit still goes down (probably Malcolm didn’t actually die after all? He just went deep into the league or whatever and continued to influence things in Starling towards the Undertaking from the shadows?)

In the wake of that Tommy moves to Starling full time and insists to everyone including Bruce that Oliver is still alive etc etc. he doesn’t give up hope (although also maybe he doesn’t get involved with Laurel? Maybe.) and then Oliver actually comes back

More or less most of canon stuff goes on except now you have a Tommy who eats breakfast casually with Batman and multiple Robins and has training and has been inside the Batcave and knows what it looks like when someone he loves is not doing a great job of a) hiding how deeply traumatized they are and b) concealing their vigilante side gig

(@acheaptrickandacheesyoneline contributed: "Oliver, you need to get better excuses"

"Excuses for what?"

"Like that. Right there"

To which i responded: “Look I know the reckless playboy thing seems like an awesome cover story at first but trust me, if you don’t balance it right it just makes everything more work than it’s worth”)

Bruce calling Tommy ostensibly just to check in with his foster son but non-covertly actually sniffing around about this murderous new vigilante in Starling

Tommy very awkwardly and transparently lying that he has no idea who it could possibly be

Tommy tries to crack bad jokes about how he just seems to attract cape and cowl types to wherever he lives and Bruce heaving the longest sigh on record because Tommy and Dick really are way too similar for Bruce’s mental health

Also in this headcanon Bruce was definitely like early 20s when he took in Dick so he was like maaayyybe 27 when he took in Tommy. Putting him younger than 40 or just over at time of Oliver’s return. So Bruce is like barely older than Diggle

Okay my math wasn’t great. So if Dick is a few years older than Tommy and Oliver and Bruce adopted him at like 22, let’s say Bruce is 24 when Rebecca dies and Tommy is 8... 26 when he takes custody of Tommy... which means he’s actually like 43 at time of Oliver coming back from the dead (subject to change, i’m bad at math!)

The way I picture it is that Bruce knew Rebecca (maybe their families knew each other??) and went to her funeral, where he observed the lost looking, clearly devastated eight year old that widower Malcolm was too busy brooding furiously to attend to. Bruce never liked Malcolm. They’d met a few times over the years and he always thought Rebecca could have done better. Malcolm always stuck Bruce as oily and shark eyed. Something cold and hungry under the surface of his charming facade. But Rebecca seemed happy with him so it wasn’t his business

That boy though. The image of that grieving boy, his whole world snatched away and not even a kindly butler to hold his hand at the graveside, that stays with Bruce, nags at him. He checks up on the remaining Merlyns from a distance after returning to Gotham. He’s unsettled and unhappy when he learns Malcolm has run off, leaving his young son behind with some hired help and power of attorney vested in his friend Robert Queen. He follows the situation for two years. When Malcolm returns he’s hopeful Tommy’s life will go better than Bruce’s did, but Malcolm only leaves again all too soon. And then he disappears. His plane goes down or something (who even cares as long as Malcolm is gone-zo, pfft bye bitch). And Tommy is truly alone, an orphan in name as well as circumstance now

Bruce knows there’s no other family to claim Tommy. He knows the boy is staying with the Queens at the moment, that Robert has guardianship, but it’s also apparent they’re in no rush to formalize the situation to anything more permanent. Bruce decides to go to Starling himself and see what will become of Tommy

It’s immediately obvious the Queens are a mess. Infidelity and fighting and periodic separation between Moira and Robert. Moira is just recently pregnant. And she seems anxious and uneasy about Tommy. Even as she does seem to care about him, she also seems determined to keep him at arm’s length. However it’s just as obvious that despite all this, Tommy and the Queen boy might as well be brothers for as close as they are

It’s clearly not an ideal situation. Bruce being Bruce decides he’s just gonna fix things. But when Moira catches wind of it she goes oddly protective and it leads to a face off between the two of them. Moira hits Bruce about being too young, unmarried, having no prior relationship with Tommy, living so far from everything Tommy knows. 

Bruce hits back with brutal truths, the killing blow that Moira clearly has no intention of making Tommy part of her own family. Robert may have slightly more ground to stand on, but ultimately they all know that if the Queen marriage falls apart, it’s not Robert who would take custody of Tommy in the aftermath of another family disintegration

And so with the cooperation of Moira and Robert and a lot of money, Bruce becomes Tommy’s legal guardian and works out with the Queens an arrangement that has Tommy in boarding at the same school Oliver attends and charges Moira and Robert to act in loco parentis for daily or immediate matters. Moira will eventually unclench and let Tommy connect easily with Oliver and even Thea, because with Malcolm gone she doesn’t have that fear about her baby girl and her secret half brother putting her family at risk

And then @storiesofimagination was sad that there would be less Thea/Tommy sibling shenanigans in this AU, to which I said:

Oh but there will still be plenty of that! Because Tommy spends most of his school years largely in Starling and a lottttt of time at the Queen home. And Moira isn’t as uneasy about Tommy adoring Thea and vice versa because with Malcolm gone/presumed dead she’s less worried about her indiscretion being exposed

So @andyouweremine asked if Dick and Oliver get along

Dick is a few years older than Tommy and Oliver so he probably didn’t spend loads of time with them during Oliver’s visits? Not none though. Tommy thinks Dick is absurdly cool so Oliver might have been a little bit jealous but also thinks Dick is cool. Dick almost definitely thrives on the fact that living human beings think he is cool

But yeah. Dick. Dick is probably weird about Tommy at first. Is this a threat? A rival? Nope it’s a shy goofy kid who thinks Dick is way funnier than Bruce does and looks up to him and he’s only around for holidays and summers so he’s the best part time little brother ever

They get on like a house on fire probably. So many bad jokes. So many. Bruce probably hides from the puns down in the Batcave even when there’s no mission because Dick can either hang out with Tommy or annoy Bruce in the super secret crime fighting lair but not both

Tommy loves the hell out of Alfred. He’s like Raisa, only Tommy gets to keep him

Alfred is just pleased to have a charge he doesn’t have to semi regularly do sutures for

If we’re going full batfam, Tommy and Jason probably can’t stand each other most of the time, but it’s mostly because Jason is extremely prickly and acts out wildly (younger days, obv)

Years later when Tim arrives on the scene, Tommy delights in being the older brother at last. They don’t have tons in common but they get along well enough

AND THEN, because @andyouweremine campaigned to ship Tommy/Dick because both Tommy Merlyn and Dick Grayson are as bi as they come:

Tommy would absolutely have the world’s most awkward crush on Dick at least in his teens. He so would though. Dick would probably be his bisexual awakening. Oliver would get sick of hearing about it. Tommy just looks up one day at like 14-15 while Dick is tooling around the house doing dumb acrobatic impressive-feats-of-athletic-dumbassery and there’s all those taut muscles and a flash of rock hard abs and suddenly Tommy needs to go to his bunk excuse himself to his bedroom to freak out privately that apparently he also likes boys now and ugh WHY THIS ONE

(later in life he’ll somewhat bitterly lament that his type seems to be “taboo.” probably he mentions this to Jason when they are both adults and sharing a beer and doing some extremely rare bonding, and Jason shoots him one hell of a side eye like “Please tell me you’re not into underage girls because I will kill you and I won’t feel bad.”

And Tommy barks a mortified laugh and says “No. Jesus Christ, no, I mean people—adult people!—that I should stay away from, because I should know better or they’d never be into me or, uh,” sweating nervously, hoping his face isn’t telegraphing DICK GRAYSON  or OLIVER QUEEN to someone trained by the actual Batman, “other reasons.”)

And you know, Tommy probably doesn’t find out about his foster dad and foster brother being Batman and Robin until he’s like 16-17. So right before Dick stops being Robin/Jason arrives on scene

Not telling Oliver about kills him

And he’s probably torn between reactions. Excited/in awe that his found family are actual superheroes. A little self conscious and insecure that his found family are superheroes but he’s just... him. Stressed that Bruce and Dick are regularly putting themselves in danger. A little off balance and hurt because Bruce Dick and Alfred have all been keeping this secret from him for years

Eventually he knows why they didn’t tell him. Because it’s so hard not to tell Oliver. He doesn’t actually want to brag to the world and he’s not dumb enough to just accidentally give it away, but not telling Oliver is excruciating, and Oliver can probably tell there’s something Tommy is hiding from him all of a sudden. 

It probably puts a new and awful strain on their relationship, but Tommy finally puts the words together to beg Oliver to understand that he has to keep someone else’s secret. That it’s important and not his to tell and that that’s the only reason he wouldn’t tell Oliver something. Things are still stiff for a little while but Oliver accepts it eventually. Especially after Tommy likens it to how just because Tommy has told Oliver he’s bi it wouldn’t be okay for Oliver to tell somebody else Tommy was bi without Tommy’s permission

And so, after Tommy finds out that he’s part of the actual batfam, Bruce makes him train. Not to take up a mask but to be prepared to protect himself if what he now knows were ever to endanger him

Tommy actually doesn’t want to take up a mask. He’s never been a big “family business” guy, even if he did intern at Wayne enterprises last summer

The strain of keeping Bruce’s secret from Oliver was bad enough. Tommy can’t imagine keeping it secret from Oliver if that same secret was his own

(After all, Tommy may have interned at Wayne enterprises but so did Oliver. He stayed with the Waynes the whole summer and Bruce was never more stressed out in his life over things not directly related to costumed villainy)

--

@memcjo @klaus-hargreeves-katz @its-a-pygmy-puffle @keabbs @princesssarcastia @obscure-sentimentalist

[polarishq]

Meet AMARYLLIS “Mary” NJOO. They are FIFTY-THREE years old and hail from SAN FRANCISCO, CA. Mary embodies the constellation, SAGITTA. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is BRIANNE TJU.

Sagitta  reminds me of hands covered in thorn scratches, strawberry milkshakes at 2am, flowers blooming through sidewalk cracks, messy buns secured with a dozen bobby pins, rose colored blush paired with heavy mascara, sunflowers in a glass acting as a makeshift vase, racing heart rates, a face too much like her mother’s, dirt caked underneath fingernails, childhood nostalgia, and the chirping of birds after a storm. .

BIOGRAPHY

Mary has spent her entire life knowing she was never meant to be born. The Njoo family come from a long line of magic user, highly respected within their own social circles and spread to all four corners of the globe, so when Lillian Njoo became pregnant at the young age (by human and witch standards) of 19, it was a massive scandal. It was made worse given the fact that it had been through a one night stand with a man whose name and face she didn’t care to memorize. But the Njoo family was also based deep in traditional views, especially given the time period of the late 60s. Lillian was given no choice but to have the child, but it was clear early on that she never had much affection for her daughter. Instead, Amaryllis was shuttled around from one relative to another every few months. While most of the Njoo family valued strength and offensive magic, everyone soon realized that Amaryllis was inclined otherwise. Rather than being fascinated by the prickly thorns and poison leaves most of their family specialized in, she could often be found picking flowers to braid into her dolls’ hair. She was a gentle child, and in their family, that was seen as undesirable. They did their part in housing her here and there when need be, but in terms of actually bonding with her, that was not an option to them.

Amaryllis didn’t have a stable home environment until just after her fifth birthday, when she was taken in by her uncle Perry — technically her great-uncle, but semantics. Perry himself was always seen as something of an outside within his family, both for his demeanor and the fact that rather than an earth element, his magic was water based. He specialized in healing, giving him a strong sense of empathy as well, so when a young Amaryllis was thrust on his doorstep without a second though from any other relatives, taking her in was a no-brainer. The first thing he did was give her the nickname Mary, because what the fuck kind of child wants to introduce herself as Amaryllis. The second thing he did was plant a flower bed in the backyard, after he learned how much she loved to watch things grow. At first it was weird for Mary, to have someone willing to give as much love as she did. It was easy for her to adjust in that sort of environment, and even easier for her to thrive and grow. Perry learned as much as he could about plants and earth magic to teach his niece, and finally, Mary had someone who actually felt like family.

For their part, most of the Njoo family brushed Perry and Mary off. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Lillian would call every few months to make sure her kid wasn’t dead, but that was about the extent of her role. It wasn’t until Mary was around 16 in human years that her mark finally appeared. She only told her uncle about it in her excitement, not even thinking about telling the rest of their family until a few months later at their annual Christmas gathering. It was really the only time of the year where they all got together, and Mary and Perry went just for the sake of appearances. Mary began speaking to Lilian just to swap niceties, and casually mentioned her constellation mark had appeared. Then, Lillian lost her shit. She was furious that she had not been informed of this, and what resulted was a heated argument between Perry and virtually every other member of the Njoo family. His screams that she had no claim to anything regarding Mary fell on death ears, and soon enough, he was dragging Mary out of the banquet hall in order to keep her safe. It wouldn’t last though.

Within a week, Lilian came to their home along with two other head members of their family, stating that Perry had done his work as caretaker but it was now time for Mary to begin training with a competent instructor. Not wanting to start another screaming match, Mary went into her mother’s care. What followed was seven years of anger and resentment that made the initial argument look like child’s play. When Mary agreed to go with her mother, she assumed she would be able to return to Perry as soon as they realized that Mary wasn’t going to be a fighter like the rest of them. No matter her powers, Mary was kind and gentle by nature and that was that. Instead of conceding defeat, Lillian took it as an act of defiance that they could get rid of with the right force. And, with the years of abandonment and the feeling of being ripped out of her home finally pushing her over the edge, Mary fought back. While she could never find it in her to strike her mother when she struck her, Mary did actively engage in intense verbal fights that often left her voice scratchy and the ground shaking from the Njoo women’s combined strength. It was miserable for both of them, and finally after seven years, Mary took the first opportunity she had and ran home.

Her and her uncle both cried when she returned, and she apologized again and again for ever going with them in the first place. Perry, in all his kindness, assured her there was no need to apologize. They spent days, weeks, months even, waiting for members of their family to show up and drag her away, punish her for leaving, but no such occurrence ever came. What did come was a note, three months later, written in Lillian’s handwriting to say that neither her daughter nor Perry were members of the Njoo family anymore. It was meant to be painful, but Mary and Perry celebrated instead. They had both suffered at their family’s hands, but now they were truly free to live their own lives. Although well into his third hundred year, Perry took the disinheritance as his chance to finally be his authentic self, and within the next decade, Mary was the only Njoo invited to the wedding between her uncle Perry and her now-uncle Thad. And Mary, still kind and optimistic in spite of her mother’s best attempts, has never been happier.

For decades, Mary was content to learn magic from her uncles. They were the only ones she really trusted; the idea of “training” makes her physically nauseous thanks to Lillian. Mary associates the entire concept with hurt and anger rather than something that could be constructive. Perry and Thad, a fire user, were happy to do what they could, but as time went on, they had to admit to themselves that Mary’s earth magic needed a special education that they could not give. When they first brought up the idea of Polaris to Mary, she outright refused. She knew of the school — it was the alma mater  for most of the Njoo family living in America. This was the place that had taught her uncles, but also her mother. Her grandparents. Everyone who had so coldly turned their back to her and hurt her. She didn’t want it. It took Perry and Thad finally being upfront with her to make her realize that even if she didn’t want it, she needed it. So, after their insistence and fear of upsetting them further, Mary finally agreed.

She’s been at Polaris for a few years now but despite that, she’s still not sure if it’s where she’s meant to be. She purposefully avoids anything related to combative or offensive magic, even though her inclinations align with that sort of training. She’d much rather spend her time in one of the school greenhouses, or tending to the flowerbeds she keeps right outside her dormitory window. There is still a lot of anger within her left from her mother, and it can result in Mary assuming the defensive even when its not called for. And despite the resentment she feels towards Lillian, Mary also has a lot of abandonment problems that she is not yet willing to face. That’s her little secret though. Bigger than that is her determination to spread love and positivity, to the point of sometimes coming off as disillusioned from the realities of the world. She’s not, though. Mary is very well aware of what people are capable of; she just chooses to focus on the reverse.

INCLINATION

Sagitta, the arrow, often sponsors people who are in need of direction and focus  in their lives. Its a bit ironic, considering the destructive abilities it possesses. Those with the powers of Sagitta are capable of tectonic plate manipulation and, with the proper training, can create mountains or strengthen the foundation of continents. Sagitta is also volatile, though. Without the right level of control, their powers can overwhelm them. This may lead to catastrophic disasters, including earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, or tsunamis. These are, of course, worse case scenarios, but it does mandate that witches and wizards in control of Sagitta need to be on their guard always.

CONNECTIONS

Filling the role of Julian Moore’s calm companion.

Garden Club: Mary really, really fucking likes flowers. These folks also really, really fucking like flowers. Or vegetable gardens. Or shrubbery. OR anything really, the gardening club is here for all your plant-based needs. Their a group of students that help tend to the greenhouses on campus in addition to beautifying the already stunning grounds.

Polar Opposite Besties: Ms. Njoo here loves pretty much everything. This character hates a lot of things, but somehow Mary was persistent enough to win them over and now happily calls them her best friend. They have definitely received a BFF necklace from her on at least one occasion. Think of them as the ultimate Hufflepuff/Slytherin dynamic.

Family Member (fc should be either part Indonesian or part Chinese): Another member of the Njoo family currently at Polaris, probably some sort of cousin or what-have-you. Unlike Mary they would have been raised from birth within the family and brought up under the same rigorous training and ideas of superiority. They would also most likely be completely separated from Mary after she was essentially disowned. Whether or not you want them to share the family’s mindset, or if you want them to be more in-line with Mary and their uncle, is up to you!

Penned by Jeanne ★

[mellicose]

⚡ Erotica Flash Challenge #2 ⚡-  The New Flesh

Fandom: David Tennant, Doctor Who, Tentoo x Rose

Word count: 3000

Rating: Mature

Warnings: none

Based on this fantastic anonymous request:

“Tentoo comes across human smut for the first time (visual or in writing, your pick), and experiences arousal. All these new human hormones scare, confuse and, excite  him. (Just like experiencing puberty for the first time. Thankfully I had mom’s medical books saying what’s happening to me. Ooh! Put that in the story! Tentoo looks up his symptoms!) Eventually, he jumps into the bathroom and skins the sausage.”

“Skins the sausage”. I had a hearty laugh at that. ‘Tentoo then runs to the loo and eagerly unsheathes his pork sword.’

*rolling on the floor, wheezing*

Although I don’t ship, Rose just had to be in this. It’s canon, and it’s perfect. Enjoy it while you can, because in my DW AU real life happens to John and Rose with a quickness.

I want all of you to know these flash prompts are truly a labor of love for my small but beautiful audience - I bloody love writing for you. Thank you so much for reading <3

“Alright, John, I’m off to the shops,” Rose said, putting on her leather jacket. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“But why?” He fidgeted. It had only been a bit more than a week since he arrived, and he was still getting used to Pete’s world.

“Because you’ve nearly eaten me out of house and home,” she said, smiling at him. “We’ve spent every waking moment together. It’d be nice to have some time alone, right? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

In all honesty, Rose was going through a period of adjustment as well. As much as John had the Doctor’s memories and cleverness, he was also the exact physical facsimile of the alien she had loved so deeply she risked the souls of everyone in her universe to touch him again … but he wasn’t the Doctor. Neither of them. His hearts did not beat a double tattoo in her ear when she dared to put her ear to his chest. He had not traveled to the ends of the universe, lived and loved and lost. After the loss of Nine and Ten, it was difficult to bear.

John was … John. And although his physical appearance was the loveliest thing she has ever seen, he was not the man she loved. But she felt she could love him, eventually. In the eight days they had cohabited, there had been golden moments when she saw a flash of the luminary she had once clung to, and she knew there would be more moments. But she wanted the feeling to grow naturally.

So they still slept very much apart.

“The heart,” he said, putting his hand to his chest.

“Yes,” she said, putting her hand over his. She caressed his prickly face. “And remember, you have to shave every day if you want your face to be smooth. Otherwise, you’ll end up looking like a mountain man.”

“And you don’t like that?” he said with a sweet fragility that made her eyes water.

“I dunno. Maybe? He never let-” she stopped talking abruptly. She promised herself she wouldn’t mention the Doctor. It wasn’t fair to John. But in the end, she still couldn’t help it. She missed his honey scent and the galaxies swirling in in his rich brown eyes.

There were no galaxies in John’s eyes - just twin stars. Lovely, but far less bright.

She popped in her earpod and walked to the door. “If you need anything, gimme a bell, okay?”

He stared at the earpod on the coffee table in front of the holocube. He was still getting very used to the technology.

“Sure.”

“I’m off, then. You can try to go online if you like. Your bio info is in the cube now,” she said, referring to the advanced computer system. With Mickey’s help, they had been able to hack a new identity for him and enter him into New Britain’s mainframe as a new citizen. To the powers that be, he was an emigre from the South American State.

He sat down on the sofa and fiddled with the cube. As she was walking out, he popped up suddenly.

“Oh, Rose!”

“Yeah?”

“Could you bring a couple boxes of those crumbly berry biscuits? I like those.”

“You mean jammy dodgers?” her mouth trembled with mirth.

“Those.” His eyes brightened.

God, did he love to eat, but his metabolism was so stellar she doubted he would gain a single kilo. “Sure,” she said. “Anything else?”

“And potatoes for mash. And peas. And custard and cake and jam - for trifle. And roast beef, ooh I love that. And crispy sausages and bread and butter for eggy in a basket-”

She put her hand up. “Okay, okay, I get it. You keep it up and I’ll have to call a zeppelin to get all that stuff back here.”

He bounced and bit his lower lip. “But you’ll get the biscuits, at least?”

“I promise,” she said with a sigh, and finally walked out the door.

He was filled with energy. All that talk of food had made him hungry. He opened the fridge and frowned. She was right. It was empty save for some milk and bottles of sauce and milk. He ran his hand over the top of the cupboard, where he knew Rose hid whatever she didn’t want him to devour right away. He felt something promising.

“Jaffa Cakes!” he said, ripping into the box. He grabbed the glass bottle of milk and sat down on the sofa. The holocube flashed.

“Welcome, John Smith,” a soothing female voice said. Scrolling text and various news stations materialized around him, bombarding him with holographic images. There was a flood in India. And, as usual, America was in the midst of political upheaval.

The holocube sensed his disinterest. “Is there anything you’d like to see?”

He chewed his cake and took a sip of milk. The holocube started to play food ads.

“Add a little sunshine to their tea,” a man’s voice said, and a holo of a little boy ran by him and to an image of a kitchen table with a big plate of Jaffa cakes. He bit into it enthusiastically and smiled at him.

“That’s the spirit,” he said to the image, and popped the rest of the cake in his mouth.

Again, the holocube sensed his disinterest. His alpha waves were barely blipping. “Is there anything else you’d like to see?”

He sucked melted chocolate from his fingers and sighed. “Rose, honestly,” he said.

“Rose,” it repeated, and multiple windows started popping up around him.

Flowers. Rows of things - things and people. A flash of frenetic movement caught his eye under the the Rosa centifolia window with all the horticultural information on it.

He touched the corner of the floating image, and just like in a computer, it came forward. It was an image of a woman touching herself.

“What the-” His eyes grew huge. His lips parted, and heat crawled up his neck and made his cheeks tingle.

This woman. He had never seen anything like it. He felt his chemicals working, and his muscles tightened frightfully. His mouth watered, but he still put down the fresh biscult. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

The cube noticed the spike in activity in his pleasure center, and more windows started popping up around him, all of them with ladies in various states of undress.

“Oh. My. I-” His lower lip wobbled.

It was extraordinary. She was so firm. So … delicious. Saliva flooded his mouth, and blood rushed to his groin.

He had seen Rose fully clothed - she rarely showed him more than her bare arms, and still he felt a bit breathless when she moved a certain way around him. But this. He was dizzy, and his vision suddenly went telescopic.

“Shit!” He used the new swear word Rose taught him and jumped up. He ached beneath his belly button. He looked down and yelled. His jeans were tented. He touched himself, and the sensation made him groan.

Sweat dripped down his back.

“What the fuck is happening?” he asked, using another swear word he didn’t dare use around Rose, but had learned from the holocube programs she loved to watch.

Another window popped up. Article after article about the male sex response began to glow around him, along with more images of women doing things.

He touched the closest one, and a very serious article came up.

“The sexual response cycle refers to the sequence of physical and emotional changes that occur as a person becomes sexually aroused and participates in sexually stimulating activities, including intercourse and masturbation.”

“Intercourse and masturbation?” he said out loud. Another couple of windows popped up, but he kept reading.

“The sexual response cycle has four phases: excitement, plateau, orgasm, and resolution. Both men and women experience these phases, although the timing usually is different. For example, it is unlikely that both partners will reach orgasm at the same time.”

Orgasm. The word sounded alien, but promising.

“Physical and/or psychological stimulation leads to vasodilation and subsequent increased blood flow into the penis. The penis grows enlarged and firm, the skin of the scrotum is pulled tighter, and the testes are pulled up against the body.”

Enlarged and firm. He looked between his legs. Check.

“With further sexual stimulation, the heart rate increases, blood pressure rises, and breathing becomes more rapid.” He was panting a bit. And his heartbeat had risen by at least 20 beats per minute.

So it’s normal.

“What is sexual stimulation?” He said to the cube.

“Sexual stimulation is any stimulus (including bodily contact) that leads to, enhances and maintains sexual arousal, and may lead to orgasm. Stimulation can be by self (e.g., masturbation) or by a sexual partner (sexual intercourse or other sexual activity).”

There was that word again.

“What is orgasm?”

“Orgasm is the sudden discharge of accumulated sexual excitement during the sexual response cycle, resulting in rhythmic muscular contractions in the pelvic region characterized by sexual pleasure. Sexual stimulation can be by self-practice (masturbation) or with a sex partner.

“Masturbation,” he read out loud.

Yet again, images began to flood the holo.

He made a soft gurgling noise.

Women do that? Touch themselves like that?

He swallowed hard. The pain had gone away for a bit while he did his research, but it was back now, and even more intense. He riffled through the images, each one more titillating than the last. He began to feel a strange euphoria. His scientist’s brain repeated back what he just read.

They are often associated with other involuntary actions, including muscular spasms in multiple areas of the body, a general euphoric sensation and, frequently, body movements and vocalizations.

His cock pressed insistently on his fly, and it was throbbing. The feeling was both amazing and miserable. His thoughts drifted to Rose.

What do I do with it? He thought. He couldn’t very well shrug and say “I dunno how” if she ever wanted to do something like the women were doing all around him.

He wanted to learn everything, really research the female sexual response for science, but he couldn’t quite get his thoughts together as easily as usual. It was like there was loud static coming from his groin, drowning out reason. He thought of orgasm - the ultimate discharge of sexual excitement.

Perhaps, if he could do that, then he could concentrate enough to start his important research.

He needed to masturbate.

“Male masturbation,” he said. And now there were cocks everywhere, men with their fists pumping, hairy, groaning, and wet.

“Arrgh!” he said, jumping up and away. “No more!”

All the images disappeared. His heart pounded, and the ache had not diminished. He rolled his eyes. Of course all it took was his hand. He could control pressure, speed, and rhythm that way. It made perfect sense.

He looked around, then ran to the bathroom. The quicker he could finish, the quicker he could get to learning.

He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them and his underwear down. Rose’s bathroom had a huge mirror on the door, and he turned to look at himself. He suppressed a giggle. He looked silly - long and slim, like a white oak coat rack with only one hook. He bounced. His cock bounced with him, slapping his belly.

Ooh. That feels mmm.

He did it again. Again it slapped his belly, sending a hot bolt of pleasure up his spine.

Hmmm.

He turned his back on the mirror and licked his palm. All the men had been slick.

“I just grab it like this-” He wrapped his fist at the base of his cock and pumped quickly as the men had done on the holo - and nearly passed out. He collapsed on the toilet, groaning.

“Shit. Bollocks. Bloody fucking hell,” he said softly, using up his whole swear arsenal. His thigh muscles twitched.

It was way too much stimulation too soon. His nipples were sensitive to the cloth rubbing against them. Even licking his lips felt different. His response was optimal, but he mustn’t rush it.

Go slow.

He licked his palm again, then wrapped his hand around himself - not too tight, not too loose - and moved it slowly. His foreskin swallowed the swollen head of his cock and the sensation was…

Stellar. The proper word is stellar, he thought.

He pulled it back and up again, slowly. His toes curled on the tile.

Oh, this is nice.

His balls tightened and the skin warmed, just like the articles stated. Without really thinking, he cupped them with his other hand, caressing them with his thumb.

He sighed and arched. No article needed to tell him to do that. And it was bloody brilliant.

He played around with rhythm, barely moving his fist, then pumping up his shaft in overlapping strokes until his fist covered the crown of his cock.

He moaned loudly, leaning back and spreading his legs.

His palm was deplorably dry again. Although he didn’t explicitly need more lubrication to finish, he liked the feel of it. He looked around the bathroom.

Spring rain-scented bath gel? The soap would irritate. Conditioner? That would get messy. Rose’s bath oil? Way too strongly scented, it would be a dead giveaway, since he only took showers. His eyes drifted to the bottle of lotion by the sink.

Ultra-moisturizing, it exclaimed right on the label. Unscented.

Perfect. He squirted it into his palm and slathered it on himself. He felt silly again, but only until he slowly slid his cock into his lotion-slick hand. He steadied his fist against the counter and began to pump his hips.

His head spun.

This sensation was not in the vast catalog of knowledge the Doctor had given to him. It was a swelling madness. Potential energy in its most beautiful manifestation. He was a river right before it spilled over the lip of a waterfall.

He pumped faster, and his breath quickened with his thrusts.

With a woman, with her, how would it be? Would she love it like he did, feel the same dumb beauty in it? His thoughts unraveled into pure sensation.

The women. Their faces. The sounds they made, when they touched themselves. Their breasts, mysterious orbs, each topped with swollen buds his lips parted to suck. Them, and the silky, hot cleft which he knew was a million times better than his lubed fist.

All of them had it. Every pretty girl he met as Rose showed him around London.

So soft.

And she had it too. She hid it, like they all did, but she had it. And he knew of her unfulfilled desires toward the Doctor. He also knew why the Doctor, regardless of his desire, had abstained.

But he didn’t have to. He was human, and whole, and eager.

He looked down at himself. His belly muscles were tight with his impending release. His brow was wet with sweat, and his moans were loud and exultant.

He would share this with Rose, if she would have him. She could teach him all she knew, and he would learn her.

Every- he felt the spike in heart rate.

Delicious- a deep euphoria, much more intense and full, rose from between his legs, pinged past his heart and shot straight to his brain.

Inch- he grunted as his cock pulsed and spurted onto the vanity mirror. His eyes rolled back and he felt the pleasure sluice through him, over and over, a pleasantly fading echo.

He let his heart slow, then took a deep, shuddering breath and stretched. His reflection in the mirror was flushed and sated. He smiled at himself. Even his blinking has slowed. He cleaned the evidence and pulled on his pants.

Although he thought he could go right back to researching, he was filled with a calm bliss that tempted him to taking a nap. He lay on the sofa.

“Just a couple minutes. Then, studying,” he said to himself. He closed his eyes, and slept.

“John!” Rose yelled at him. He could hear rustling from the front door.

He popped up. It was winter, and night had fallen. How long had he been asleep?? He ran to the door to help her with the grocery bags.

The stars shone over the now pollutionless sky over New London. It was full night. A couple of minutes had turned to several hours of deep, dreamless sleep. He smiled. He had trouble resting, but now the remedy was clear.

They chatted as they put away the groceries, then Rose ran her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair and smiled up at him.

“You finally get some good sleep?” She knew about his tossing and turning.

“Yeah. Just drifted right off,” he said. There was a certain look in her eyes that he had been oblivious to before, but not anymore. Was it hunger? Curiosity?

Maybe. But he would foster it. Encourage it, until it spilled over like he had.

She flushed, then turned to take something out the fridge.

“What d’ye fancy tonight?” she said, bending down to get to the vegetable drawers at the bottom. Her pants stretched enticingly over her bum. The blood rushed to his groin again.

“I don’t know. I’m actually not that hungry,” he said breathlessly.

She turned to look at him, still bent over. Her back arched. “You sure?” she said. Her eyes searched his face, sensing something different.

“Positive,” he replied, leaning back against the counter to take her in.

She took a little longer than she needed to put away the carrots and celery.

[were-cheetah-stiles]

The Recruit (Chapter 21) - Mitch Rapp

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “Day 87″

Characters: Mitch Rapp, Stan Hurley, Julian Casablancas & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Smut, and probable cursing... Guys, it’s me, what do you expect? honestly. 

Author’s Note: y/f/i = your first initial, y/n/n/= your nickname

Additional Note: This particular chapter took me weeks and weeks to write. I am very proud of the finished product. I was in a Jeff Buckley mood when I finally finished writing this. So when you see the * feel free to softly play this in the background and you will get the full and intended effect. 

Summary: Stan decides to take the trainees down to Kentucky to practice their tactical driving skills on a professional racetrack and to get a work out in the state's largest indoor rock climbing facility. Mitch hears a rumor about something that Dan had said about Y/n, and he finds himself even more on edge, only for him and Y/n to find a new way to blow off steam together and attempt to reconnect.

Chapter Twenty - Chapter Twenty-One - Chapter Twenty-Two

Almost five days had passed by since Dan Brunski, your attacker, had returned to The Barn and so far, nothing had happened. 

Brunski kept his distance and did not approach or interact with either Mitch or you, but Mitch was still on high alert. The odds had been evened since Peter Collins, one of the three men who had helped in attacking you on more than one occasion, had left The Barn for good, but Dan still had the element of surprise and it left Mitch tense and hyperaware.

You and Mitch had not been yourselves since Brunski's return. The two of you had been fighting and you had been pulling away, trying to protect yourself from further pain. You had also been pulling away because you were afraid of what Mitch would do if he saw how bad your post-traumatic stress was actually getting now that you were seeing your sexual assaulter on a daily basis again.

You had sent Mitch away from sleeping on the floor in your room, for the past two nights, as the two of you were still not back to sleeping together. Mitch could not respect your decision to take your time in telling your story, but he would not disrespect you by telling your story for you to those who needed to hear it. The two of you were at odds with each other, and were growing more and more frustrated and stressed by the day. Mitch's distance left you on edge. You had begun sleeping with your loaded firearm under your pillow, always ready in case Brunski came back.

Stan Hurley, Mitch's mentor, your uncle, and the man who ran The Barn, had packed all of the trainees onto a charter bus early that morning, and drove them down to Kentucky, where they were practicing tactical driving on an old NASCAR racetrack. After the driving lesson, he was going to take them to the biggest rock climbing park in the state, and then to a hotel for the night. They would return to The Barn the next morning. You finished your impressive session, and Mitch watched as you, Reza and Julian all climbed out of your respective cars and were praised by Stan for your excellent skills behind the wheel. Mitch, Rob, and Clemens climbed into the three separate cars and began their test.

After they spent most of the afternoon at the racetrack, Stan brought them to a massive rock climbing park and unleashed them into a brutal workout. Mitch and Julian were descending one of the more difficult and steep rock face, side by side, when Julian paused towards the top.

“Yo, Rapp.”

Mitch, shirtless and sweaty, stopped and turned back. “What’s up?” He watched as Julian caught up and leaned back against his harness, holding his ropes in his hands.

“You’re friends with Y/n, right?” Julian asked, reaching into his chalk bag to get some of the sweat off of his hands.

Mitch nodded, and narrowed his eyes. “We’re friends. Why?”

“Does she know that Brunski has a major issue with her? Well, with the both of you, frankly?”

Mitch felt his stomach leap into his throat. “What are you talking about, Casablancas?”

Earlier, when you were up on that other rockface racing Reza and Rob to the top.. I guess, Y/n was watching the three of you and I overheard Brunski say some shit about her, that didn’t sit well with me, and I was wondering, since you’re also her friend, if you thought I should tell her.”

“What’d Dan say?”

“RAPP! CASABLANCAS! WE’RE BACK ON THE BUS IN TWENTY. FINISH UP AND GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE!” Stan yelled from the ground.

Mitch and Julian began climbing again, quickly making it to the top to ring the bell, and then propelling back to the mats below. They grabbed their things and sat next to each other on the charter bus back to the hotel. Mitch kept his eyes on you, safely sitting next to Rob a few seats ahead of them, laughing at whatever dumb thing Rob was inevitably saying.

“So what’d he say?” Mitch asked again. Julian looked around for Brunski or Clemens. “They’re in the back of the bus. What’d Dan say about Y/n, Julian?” Mitch was becoming agitated.

Julian licked his lips and shook his head, glancing over at Mitch. “I was standing next to him, watching everyone else on that moderate climb that you were on, and he was intently watching Y/n watching the three of you. He leaned over to Clemens, but I overheard him..."

Mitch waited for a few short moments, shifting uncomfortably in place thinking back on the conversation he had with you only a couple of hours prior, where he told you what Julian had told him. He just wanted to see your face and make sure you were okay.

He saw the door open, revealing you wrapped in a fluffy white towel with your hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of your head. You smiled softly and stepped out of the way, giving silent permission for Mitch to come in. He heard the heavy door latch behind him and watched as you walked through the door of the dimly lit and steam-filled bathroom. He followed you, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile.

“You weren’t worried that maybe it could have been someone else knocking on the door?”

You snickered and shook your head, sitting on the ledge of the tub, adjusting the knobs as the water filled. “Well, considering every other guy in this hotel is down at the bar trying to pick up one of the various pretty pharmaceutical reps in the hotel, and you know I'd kill you if you were trying to do that, I kind of knew it was you.” You smirked up at him. "Plus, I looked in the peephole." You snickered, and he couldn’t help but smirk back at you.

“I could go down there and get one if you really think that’s where I should be…” Mitch teased you.

You shut the water off, and stood, dropping your towel to the cold tile below your feet. You walked towards Mitch, pressing your fingers softly against his stomach, finally hooking them under his shirt, pulling it over his head, his hair falling messily around his face as you tossed the shirt to the side. “I don’t think,” You spoke slowly. “that that will end as well for you as this will…” Instead of a period, you finished your sentence with a kiss on his lips.

Mitch dug the tips of his fingers into your hips, leaving indents in your naked flesh as he pulled you close against him. The contact of your skin against his skin, made him feel like you were on fire, and he melted into your kiss. 

Your hands wandered down to his pants and began pulling them apart, tugging them down his hips. Mitch inhaled the thick, wet air in the bathroom and felt his head lightly spinning. He felt the tension of the fabric of his jeans around his ankles, and the comfort of your hands on his body and he placed his hands over yours on his hips. He pulled you tightly against him again, and pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and embracing the warmth.

“You okay?” You asked, softly, pausing what you were doing.

“Just been on edge after what Julian told me earlier.”

You wriggled your hand from his grip and placed it against the stubble on his cheek. You massaged your fingers against the prickly hairs and he leaned his face into your touch. “Come on..” You pulled him towards the tub and watched as he got in first, the water rising and the bubbles surrounding his chest and arms. You got in after him, stepping in between his legs and sitting with your knees scrunched up towards your chest so that you could face him.

“If you really wanted me to relax, you’d come lay on top of me right now.” Mitch whispered, watching the steam rise out of the tub in front of your face. He saw a smile spread across your lips, and heard the water in the tub sloshing as you spun around and leaned your back against his chest. Mitch reached up and pulled the white curtain, on the shower rod above, towards the other end of the bathtub. It was just the two of you, finally safe from the outside world. Mitch wrapped his arms around your body, and gently rubbed his wet fingers up and down your arm. He leaned his head against the slanted white porcelain behind him, shut his eyes and listened to the quiet popping of tiny bubbles in the water around the two of you.

"I have felt so disconnected from you lately... so far away.." You said, breaking the silence between the two of you, and causing Mitch to open his eyes. You continued telling him what had been on your restless mind lately. "And for someone who is trained in killing people, I have never felt more unsafe in my life."

Mitch frowned and held you a little tighter against his body, even pushing his long, hairy legs harder against your shorter and smooth ones. He whispered into your ear. "Do you feel unsafe right now?"

He watched as your hands stopped rearranging the bubbles on the surface of the bathwater, and dove underneath to where he could not see. He then felt the soft pads of your fingers press against the tops of his hands, as you shook your head against his collarbone. "This is the safest I've felt in days. I know I’ll always be safe with you." You whispered.

He pulled his hand out from under the water and used the wetness on his palm to slick your hair back from your cheek. Mitch kissed the side of your head where his hand had just been, and he heard you softly coo. "Then what's wrong right now, baby?" He spoke low in his quiet, husky voice.

"I want to be able to relax again." You replied, your eyes still closed and your head still resting in the crook of his neck. Mitch glanced down and noticed the tiny wrinkles etched into your forehead and he slowly began to smirk.

"I could help with that.."

You heard the mischief rising in his tone, and your smirked. "Hmm?" You decided to egg him on.

"Mhmm.." Mitch pressed his lips against the shell of your ear and very lightly sucked. You hummed at his action. 

Mitch moved his lips slightly lower and tugged at your earlobe with his teeth, and a louder moan came from within your throat. You shifted your weight against his body again when you felt his member slightly harden against your back. 

Mitch snaked his hand down your bare and wet skin, quickly making contact with your clit. He very slowly began to rub his middle and ring finger on his right hand against your sensitive bundle of nerves and you licked your lips and your eyes fluttered open. You turned your head up towards his gaze, a sleepy and pleased look resting on your face, and you connected your lips with his in a lazy and happy kiss.

"Should we get out and get in bed?" You asked, wondering if he would rather have sex on the comfort of a mattress instead of against the hard porcelain of the bathtub.

Mitch pressed his lips lazily against yours again, feeling intoxicated by the warm water, the foggy air, and your body pressed against his. He then shook his head and smiled. "Just relax, baby. Let me take care of you." Mitch rubbed slow, and consistent, circles against you, feeling you breathe steadily and deeply against his chest. After a few minutes, Mitch felt you twitch against him and he kissed your neck softly. "Tell me when you're close, baby." He whispered in your ear.

"I'm so close." You replied breathlessly, digging your head back against his shoulder. Mitch suddenly pulled his hand away and laced his fingers together over your stomach. "What are you doing?" You asked, borderline frantic.

"Helping you relax." Mitch answered, quietly smug with a small grin resting on his mouth.

"Ugh, Mitch..." You whined and ground against him. "How is this helping me relax? You're teasing me."

Mitch left short and soft kisses against your temple and squeezed you against him. He was in bliss being so close to you. "What do you want, baby?" He asked.

"You. I want you inside of me." You shimmied gently against his hard cock on your back, and sent a shiver down Mitch's spine.

Mitch snaked his hand up your torso and chest, making sure to take his time over your breasts, and he pressed his fingers against your chin. He pulled your lips towards his and he sucked on your lower lip. You let out a small whimper and he went back in for another elongated kiss. Mitch wrapped his fingers around the bottom of your left thigh, lifting it out of the warm water, and draped it over the edge of the tub. You turned your head slowly and began leaving warm kisses on his neck and jaw, and Mitch's heart began to race.

"You want me inside of you, huh?" Mitch teased, lifting you slightly off of him and positioning his erect cock against your opening.

"Please." You purred and dug your nails into his muscular thigh underneath you. You moaned loudly as he slipped inside of you and felt your tight walls constrict around him. He breathed deeply at the new sensation and hugged you back against his body, pressing you more firmly against him. Mitch dipped further into the warm water, his feet pressed flat against the other end of the tub, and the water rising up around two of you. You whined and squirmed on top of him, wanting the feeling of him sliding in and out of you.

Mitch smirked and obliged. He thrust up into you slowly a few times before stopping. He hovered his hand around your pelvis, keeping you from grinding down onto him and smirked against your bare skin. "You still close?" He whispered, his voice barely echoing through the tiled room.

You shook your head. "No. You killed it." You replied with an indignant whine.

Mitch laughed and kissed the side of your neck, then dropped his hand back towards your engorged clit. He began slowly rubbing in circles again, slowly and softly in and out of you every thirty seconds, or so, just to maintain his hard on. His free hand was pressed against your ribs, with your hand over his, your fingers intertwined. He listened to your deep breathing and caught your free hand wrap around the edge of the tub, your knuckles turning white, indicating that you were close but refusing to tell him this time. 

A quick spasm in your stomach was his next tell. Mitch pressed his fingers more firmly against your clit when you spasmed and the walls of your pussy constricted momentarily around Mitch's thick cock, and he moaned. Mitch had to try very hard not to just fuck you wildly right then. He breathed deeply and went back to slowly rubbing your clit, and building you up to the edge of climax. A few more thrusts and he felt you twitch again, so he stopped.

"You're doing this on purpose. I am so close and you're doing this on purpose." You began to reach down to just finish yourself off, but Mitch grabbed you by the wrists and held your hands in the air.

You caught his smug grin as you turned around to look at him, his eyes were a deep amber and full of playful lust. "I am doing this on purpose." Mitch admitted before kissing you on the shoulder and then stopping you from reaching your fingers down to your clit again.

"You think you're the only one who can do this?" You smirked, suddenly grinding down onto Mitch's thick cock. Mitch abruptly inhaled in your ear and you grinned. You tightened your walls around him again and he let out a small moan, growing louder as you ground down against him once more.

"Fuck... Y/n/n... fine.. fine. What do you want?"

"You." *

With that, Mitch directed you to stand up by pulling your wrists upwards, and he quickly got up behind you. He ripped the curtain to the bath open, leaned down to place his arms around your waist, and suddenly hoisted you over his shoulder like you were a rag doll. You squealed with delight and admired his muscular ass as he stepped out of the tub and out towards the bedroom part of your hotel room. 

He tossed you on the bed, and you bounced slightly in place from the springs in the mattress. You watched as Mitch climbed from the foot of the bed toward you. You put your hands out for him and he collapsed on top of you.

He hovered over you, smiling and leaving light kisses on your lips, when he felt you shiver underneath him. "You cold?" You nodded sheepishly. Mitch pulled back the covers next to you on the bed and the two of you got underneath them. You wrapped the duvet over his shoulders, your wet bodies sticking to sheets and each other. You pushed the wet hair, matted to his forehead, up and off of his face. He smiled, and felt your hand snake around the nape of his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

Mitch lined himself up with your entrance once more, and pressed his way inside. You were ready for his intimate connection. Mitch stared deeply into your eyes as he steadily thrust in and out of you. Your mouth opened and he breathed in your quiet sighs. Your bodies moved in sync under the ruffling noises of hotel cotton, and Mitch leaned his damp forehead against yours. The consistent movement of his fingers against the throbbing bundle of nerves between your legs, and the euphoric feeling of his abundant length filling you up, coupled with the closeness that you had been craving with him since the two of you had left your safe haven up North, pushed you well over the edge.

The way your eyes shut tight, the skin below your lip was pulled taut, and your nails dug love lines in his back, brought him close, but it was the way that your walls closed around his thickness that threw Mitch into the abyss of a much needed orgasm.

You took in the subtle features of his face. You traced the creases around his mouth where the frown lines used to live before he met you. You dragged your fingers lightly across the soft pink flesh of his upper lip. He lay with his head resting against a pillow, his hair dried in messy waves, simply relaxing and enjoying the way you touched him. You swept your index finger across the prominent mole on the left side of his face, and then quickly replaced your finger with your lips. You felt the chiseled cheekbones on his face pop out against your kiss. You pulled back and saw a smile on his face that hooked from one ear to the other and straight to your heart.

“Stay.” You whispered your only request.

Mitch had the fingers on his right hand gently caressing the side of your arm. He brought them up to the hand that had been exploring his face, but was now resting against his collarbone, and he squeezed it tightly. “You know I would if I could, y/f/i.”

His rebuff hurt you on levels that he could not have foreseen; on levels that you did not expect. You needed him. You had never felt more uneasy in your life, and you needed his weight in your bed and his limbs wrapped around you while you slept. You wouldn’t ask him a second time though. Logic would prevail in the morning and you would no longer harbor resentment for him getting out of your bed to get dressed and leave you anymore.

“What are you going to do the rest of the night?” Mitch asked as he buttoned the fly of his jeans, glancing up at you, tucked snuggly under the white sheets on the bed.

“I guess I’ll order some room service, watch some TV and go to sleep.”

“You didn’t bring a book?” Mitch asked with surprise in his tone.

You shook your head. “Wasn’t in the mood.”

Mitch frowned. He knew you were upset. He also knew that there was very little that he could actually do. Mitch knelt down next to the bed, took your hand in his, and began kissing the back of your hand and your fingers. He rested your palm against his stubbly cheek, craving the connection that he felt when you touched him, but not getting the full experience as your head was now elsewhere. “If Reza bags one of the girls downstairs, I’ll come back and sleep with you tonight.”

You barely moved your head up and down. You knew that that was unlikely and you didn’t want to be made hopeful. “Okay.”

“Y/n...” Mitch sat down on the bed next to you, and cupped your cheek in his large, veiny hands. “I want to keep you safe, and we both know the way to do that is for me to show my face downstairs….” Mitch paused and stared into your y/e/c eyes. “You are everything to me… My entire world.” A small wrinkle creased into the skin between his brows, and he pulled you into his arms. It felt different though; like hugging a stranger. He could feel your tension and your walls building back up with each passing minute as he prepared to leave.

You were beginning to disassociate from your life and the things that you loved and made you feel happy and protected. It was your emotions shutting you down from the pain of Mitch leaving and you enduring another fearful night alone. “You should get downstairs.” You whispered into his chest.

Mitch swallowed the lump in his throat, and forced himself off of the bed. His rage boiled inside of him, and he had one face stuck in his mind: Dan Brunski. Anger, anger, anger. It always came easiest to him. He turned before he opened the door to the hallway, and glanced at you, still holding the sheets up against your chest to cover yourself. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Mitch.” You said, forcing a pained smile that neither of you bought into. With that, he turned and left.

The clock on your nightstand blinked 10:14PM, and you decided that Mitch was probably not coming back. You dragged the wooden desk chair over to your bolted and locked door and you shut off the hall light. You walked over to your jeans, lying on top of your duffel bag, and pulled at your gun. You checked the magazine, confirming its contents, and placed the loaded Glock on your bedside table. You turned the volume down on the TV, and shut the rest of the lights off.

You jolted forward in bed, scrambling for your gun, and knocking the alarm clock off the stand as you struggled. The white lights that flashed throughout the room during the infomercial on the hotel TV, allowed you to see that it was just a dream. You lowered your gun from your pointless aim, and placed it on the sheets beside you. You reached down to grab the clock that fell on the floor. You read the face: 11:52PM. You turned the light on your nightstand back on, and shut the television off.

You shifted onto Mitch’s side of the bed and placed the Glock in your lap. You ran your fingers over the textured grip and the cold metal on the barrel. You sighed, and stared at the wall above the television. You could feel yourself unraveling. 

Brunski’s return threw your life upside down, and a resolution was going to have to be necessary sooner than later. But for that night, you did not sleep again, for the fear of his face entering your thoughts far outweighed your exhaustion.

20 <- -> 22

I am actually curious what you all think about this chapter. it took me forever to finish and i was going for a little more of a poetry-ish vibe. give me a holler.

@chivesoup @confidentrose @alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @kalista-rankins @parislight @cleverassbutt @damndaphneoh @mgpizza2001 @chionophilic-nefelibata @ninja-stiles @sarcasticallystilinski @teenage-dirtbagbaby @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @alizaobrien @twsmuts @rrrennerrr @sorrynotsorrylovesome @lovelydob @iknowisoundcrazy @5secsxofamnesia @vogue-sweetie @dylrider @ivette29 @therealmrshale @twentyone-souls @sunshineystilinski @snicketyssnake @xsnak-3x @eccentricxem @inkedaztec @awkwarddly @lightbreaksthrough @maddie110201 @hattyohatt @rhyxn @amethystmerm4id @completebandgeek @red-wine-mendes @katieevans371 @girlwiththerubyslippers @susybird @theneverendingracetrack @snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales @runs-with-sciss0rs @ssweet-empowerment @ellie-bee242 @hirafth @dailyburritos @mieczzyslaw @im-very-odd33 @anonimereader06 @itsamberh @sp00der-m00n @lolaversuslipstick

[veliseraptor]

A part from obvious psychological problems, what are some of the things that Loki has had trouble adapting to in his new life on Earth? For example, are there terms that do not translate properly if any at all with the All-Speak? Technology and pop culture? He is an extraterrestrial prince who has been exiled. How has Steve helped in to adjust?

A lot of things, really, though Loki being who he is he tends to pretend as much as possible that that’s not the case. And there is also the fact that Loki is, I think, generally good at adapting: he’s able to pick things up quickly and change to suit his environment with a fair amount of ease. (It’s a virtue but it also ties into his instability of identity, so.)

One of the big things, I think, is that Earth is just plain overwhelming. Especially in New York, it’s busy, and loud, and moves very quickly - all of which seem to contrast with the Asgard we see, which may have boisterous feasts but is overall pretty serene and definitely moves on a slower timescale. (I’ve talked about Asgard’s slow pace before and how it often frustrates Loki, but it’s also familiar.) Humans just move faster, live faster, and especially in a big city. And then there’s the noise - unfamiliar sounds of the subway, of sirens, of all the cacophony that comes with a city. I think it’s easy for Loki to get sort of overstimulated and I imagine at first he does a lot. 

Then there is stuff like the way he gets treated, which is definitely different from what he’s accustomed to. I think it throws him less than you’d expect, because by the time he shows up on Earth for any extended period of time he’s spent a fair amount of time in dark places fending for himself, which means he doesn’t really expect special treatment for his status (anymore). All the same, the sense of being just like everyone else can still, I think, be jarring. 

Another thing I’ve talked about is Loki’s ideas of class, which are even more rigid than human ideas of class and tend to be more pronounced. There’s no way around the fact that Loki is at least a little bit of an elitist, and the way that people of different classes rub elbows on Earth (however uneasily and still segregated in a lot of ways) is kind of disconcerting to those sensibilities. 

And there are definitely problems with translation, though less than you’d think - I think the All-Speak is pretty good at translating if not directly from word to word at least in terms of tone. Loki may not know specific words of slang but he can get a sense of them from both context and the loose translation that he might get. There’s also the fact that I think Loki has a facility with language and sets himself the challenge of actually learning multiple languages outside of the All-Speak so he can actually speak in the right one and understand more specifically what people are saying. 

A lot of pop culture references still absolutely fly over his head, though, but again this being Loki he’s going to do the thing where he just pretends they don’t, he totally knows what you’re talking about, don’t be ridiculous. Even as at the same time he pretends to be kind of snotty about a lot of human media. 

(On the other hand, I think both Loki and Thor love things like melodramas and soap operas because of their mundanity and also their over-the-top style, because I have a lot of headcanon about the way that Asgard’s storytelling tends toward the melodramatic and the over-the-top.)

Technology is easy, relatively speaking, or at least he picks up on it fast though sometimes it’s a little like someone used to iPhones trying to work a telegraph machine. 

As for how Steve has helped, it’s a lot of them learning together, though Steve is ahead of the curve both because of being from Earth and also having been dealing with modernity longer. But he gets it in a way others (other than Thor) don’t - the sense of displacement and confusion that comes with being in an entirely new place. Things like Loki’s being overwhelmed by the chaos even make sense to him very directly, and the challenges of catching up on slang and references that are familiar to everyone else are also similar for Steve. A lot of that he’s very sympathetic to without being condescending in any way, though Loki being Loki he tends to be prickly about it sometimes. 

And when it comes to the class thing Steve definitely gets on Loki about that, because he is not here for Loki’s elitism/classism and it’s one of the things that actually actively pisses him off/annoys him when it comes up. Loki gets better about it, mostly because every time it happens Steve is like “don’t do that” and goes on kind of a rant about inequality of opportunity and people deserve to be treated the same and have the same chances and isn’t this exactly what you hate, people looking down on you for who you are and shoving you out of places and boxing you in, so cut it out, and Loki does eventually sort of get it. 

edit: also I forgot to say “apart from obvious psychological problems” is a great opener and I’m laughing inappropriately about it