#After I started drawing I realized I had an old drawing of them squishing their faces together. great minds ect ect

[forgetful-river]

Squarsh! Inspired by this post from @autisticaradiamegido :D

[yaut-jaknowit]

YESS I GET TO BOTHER YOU AGAIN:D

Imagine the reader teaching their yautja mates/friends teenager some cool human fighting move you see in movies n shit (also have an awesome day ilyyy)

How to Fight

Pairing: Chopper (Male Reader) x Reader

Word Count: 1171

Summary: With a little luck, you were able to entertain yourself while on the mothership. Access to the internet was the best far from earth. Every night, you took it upon yourself to watch movies. Sometimes rewatching old ones or finding new releases. Until, one night, Chopper's buddies caught sight of what you were watching… It went downhill from there.

Author Note: I love when you come bother me! It's the highlight of my day. I didn't know what to with this one so I started in a random place and ran with it. The ball... well it ended up somewhere else I guess.

Masterlist

Ao3

All it took was one glimpse at a movie you were watching. Worst of all, it was Kung Fu Panda. The whole group was completely intrigued. Within moments, they’re sitting down next to your small frame, elbows on their knees with their chins resting on their fists. All of their eyes were zoned in on the holo screen in front of you.

With some trial and error with the earth’s internet and the Yautja’s network, you were able to figure out how to broadcast movies. As a human on a mothership full of Yautjas, there was a limit of what you could do. Safely. That part was key when it came to staying alive here.

From the rumors that have trailed across the ship, the only reason you’re alive is the fact your mate’s species sees you as his pet. Degrading as it is, you do your best to see the positives in the situation. Your mate, nicknamed Chopper, has lots of friends – you guess that’s the best word for it. They love to come over constantly.

Some of them like to tease you, especially on your size. Due to the translator that sits perfectly behind your ear, just below the skin, you are able to understand them. It’s not perfect but gets the job done well enough. In the end though, you didn’t take it to hard, coming to terms that’s how they are. In a strange, nonhuman way, its their way of showing that accept you. A positive in a situation that didn’t start out all that great. But hey, that’s a story for another time.

Currently, you were happily squished between the hard form of Chopper’s legs. His heavy torso was draped over your own, part of his weight put onto you. An arm as contently wrapped around your abdomen, keeping you secure to him. Chopper’s tresses created a curtain on either side of your head, as if narrowing you down to focus on the T.V.

After a few scenes of Po training and the others showing their skills off, Courtin – a new given to him, stood up abruptly. All eyes were on him. You had to draw the curtain of tresses out of your way to see Courtin. A brow was raised by you.

His mandibles chittered with speech. The translator was quick to start up. “These moves, I must learn them! Could aid us when we hunt, brothers,” he rallied his fellow Yautjas to stand up with him. Even, your sweet, dear Chopper took stand with him. You snorted at the declaration. “Ooman, laughs at me. Why? Think we Yautja can not learn these moves from a flick.” It took you a moment to realize what he meant by that last word. Again, not perfect.

“Courtin, it’s not that.” Now, you decide to rise to your feet and crossed yours arms. Before realizing that was a bad idea. Right, different social cues and body language, for the most part. “This movie is aimed for children, unbloodeds. It is meant to be silly and fun,” you explained to him calmly. The worst thing to do to a Yautja in their presence was to offend their pride and skill.

“You are all talented, blooded and whatnot. But these moves aren’t real. It just for the movie to be filled with action and tension.” All of their eyes were set on you.

Courtin stepped forward, enough to feel crowded within the group of eight Yautjas. Despite the fact he and any of the others were young, he still towered over you. Stupidly enough, Courtin leaned down to be level with you, hands grasping his knees. “You say these moves are useless?” he asks for you clarify.

For some reason, you feel a hair on edge. Though, they would never hurt you, per their honor code, it’s hard to forget they are predators. “In all honesty, yes. They are.” His three mandibles tapped against one another. Courtin stood up fully once more.

“Hmphf.” That made him sound so human. Maybe him and the others were learning a few human things from yourself. One could only hope. “Then, must find other media to consume. Ooman, show more.” Always demanding. You believed that was almost all of their species type.

From one rabbit hole to the next and over countless days, everyone – including yourself – believed they had learned enough. From movies. All from movies. Nothing else. Well, your mate and his friends would have a batter advantage than due to the fact they are trained predators. Yet, here you were, in a private kehrite with everyone.

The heat and humidity was killing you without much movement. Yet, when Jqal-od called upon you to step into the ring – one that reminded you of wrestling, you accepted. Though, they were more focused on the fighting parts of the movie… you focused on a different part. Those who were smaller than their enemies. Cliché, yeah. Guess what though, it works.

Not against someone two feet taller and highly trained. In theory, it works.

Jqal-od placed a heavy paw on your shoulder. You returned the gesture. Together, the two of you shook the other. Then, you two stepped a decent distance away from one another. You and him had your gaze set firmly on the other.

Silence entered the ring as everyone quieted down on their own accord. A deep breath filled your lungs with air before slowly exhaling. Jqal-od’s tongue darted out with a flick before hiding away again.

The next moment, the lean, yet clearly trained Yautja pounced like a leopard. Before you had time to react, let alone think of using a move from the movie, he had you simply pinned. Your back to the mate as he straddled your lower torso. One hand held your two high above your head. Even kicking your knees into his back, trying to hit something of importance did nothing. The Yautja barely reacted to the move.

All you could was stare blankly up at him. The Yautja in question leaned down, tresses creating a curtain. His top mandibles twitched. He was smirking in his own way. “What happened, little ooman?” he teased and snickered down at you.

He finally released you from his hold and stood up. With a hand, he held it out to you. You took it. Jqal-od easily tugged you off of the ground and onto your feet. You brushed off the invisible dust on your clothing and walked away to Chopper. Someone else took your place and challenged the Yautja.

“Well, that didn’t go to plan,” you grumbled and rested heavily on one foot, hips jutting at an angle now. Chopper snickered and placed a hand on top of your head. You turned to look up at him from underneath your brows. “What you laughing about?”

The Yautja just shook his head and patted yours with his hand. The two of you watched the scene in front of you unfold, as hilarious as it was. No one knew what they were doing.

[silverwings22]

Song of the Sea: Chapter 17: Stolen Kisses, Pretty Lies

Chapter warning: attempted sexual assault, explicit smut, alien sex, profanity, death threats Series warning: explicit smut, alien anatomy (it's a monsterfucker fic, guys), major character injury, grief, canon typical violence, autistic meltdowns, and my terrible attempts at Mando'a.

Previous Chapter:

Next chapter:

After her night of performing for Cid’s patrons, Shiani had become a little bit of a star around the Parlor. Locals recognized her, and she was quite well liked. Too much, Tech thought after a third night in a row of her being offered drinks by the crowd of barflies. She always turned them down or offered them to the guys, and Cid had started just taking the guys money and giving her half for sitting at the bar drawing them in. Shiani had an assigned stool now, right by Cid listening to the trandoshan tell her stories about her old hustles, and was quite pleasant for being constantly annoyed by the customers flirting and her general distrust of Cid.

"You're staring a hole in her." Hunter flicked a straw wrapper at Tech as the rest of the Batch sat in their back booth, keeping a lookout for her and having nowhere else to really be anyway. It was getting late, and the sergeant was considering packing it in for the night. Omega was starting to doze off.

"I am only keeping watch for her safety." Tech muttered. "I have no reason to trust anyone in this bar with her well-being."

A particularly stubborn zebrak that had been flirting with Shiani was back, offering her a drink once again. Tech saw her shake her head politely and try to get back into conversation with Cid. 

"He's stubborn, I'll give him that." Hunter smirked, Omega tucking herself under his arm as she started to get tired. "What do you think, kid? Think he's gonna ask Shiani out?"

"He did yesterday." She mumbled. "She said no."

"That persistence is concerning." Tech frowned. 

"Not everyone takes rejection as well as Shiani." Echo shrugged.

Tech groaned. "Is this going to be a constant topic of discussion? My reasoning was sound. I cannot fail what I do not attempt.”

Omega yawned into Hunter's ribs and looked up innocently. "But Tech, you already tell her you love her sometimes. So what’s the deal?"

“I do?” He blinked at his sister curiously.

Omega nodded, holding her hands up and making three squishing gestures. “Three squishes. It’s code for I love you. I saw you do it before.”

Tech blinked. "... is that something she told you?" Shiani had been giving him “squishes” since the war started. Had she loved him that long?! If so, they were well past the theoretical time in which resentment should have built by now. If anything, he was doing better than he had been on Kamino. At least now he could see her daily…

"Kinda." The little girl smiled. "Back when we were getting Ruby."

Echo smirked slightly. “Oh, so about the time I heard you calling her cyar’ika. I told her what that means, by the way.”

Tech looked around at his brothers, who were all smirking. “This has been going on longer than I realized. I… may not have considered all the variables." He finally said faintly.  "I need to talk to her."

Hunter nodded, getting out of the booth and picking Omega up. "And you need to go to bed. After you brush your teeth. I don't know what you and Wrecker were eating this afternoon, but I still smell sugar all over you."

She giggled as he took her back to the ship. Echo smiled after them. "He's turning into a dad."

"It's funny." Wrecker agreed. "But, uh… Shiani just walked out. So you might want to get on that quickly. She’s popular now, what if she goes out with someone else?" He and Echo vanished, leaving the genius with his many thoughts. He got up and headed to her usual, now empty seat. Cid was washing glasses behind the bar, so he tapped the counter to get her attention. "Where is Shiani?"

"Said she was going to the fresher. She was in a hurry, so I figured I'd watch her stuff." Cid shrugged. “She brings in a lot of customers, and a lot of credits.” 

Tech scanned the area, realizing that the bothersome zebrak was also missing. "I see." His stomach was churning. Had she given in and agreed to give this guy a try, or was he following her?

The freshers were around back, so he pocketed her datapad and headed that way. Just as he reached the back hall, he heard the siren's voice. "Please just leave me alone. I told you, I’m not interested."

"C'mon, baby. I'll show you a good time."

"I’m not your baby. Please go away." She sounded upset, and Tech peeked around the corner. 

Shiani was hemmed up against the wall, squirming away from the whisky-breath of the much taller male. He was catching her face between his fingers, too rough with her, as she tried to wiggle away. Tech knew she could have physically gotten loose, but he also knew Shiani. She didn't know if it was appropriate to defend herself, out of her depth in the surface world. She worried about overstepping, or embarrassing herself in this strange new world and froze whenever she was unsure or uncomfortable. When he got a good look, her eyes were huge and darting left and right. 

She was scared. 

"Let me go now please." She squeaked, trying to pull her face loose from his grip. “My friends won’t like you bothering me.”

“They didn’t notice you walked out. Must not be good friends.” He smirked. “I’ll bring you back to them in the morning.”

“Let me go!” She pushed her hands up, trying to shove him back with her hands. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the wall behind her. She opened her mouth to scream, but he yanked her head up and slammed his mouth onto hers. 

He tasted of ash from stale cigarras and the bitter tang of alcohol. She instantly hated it, knocking her head against the wall to get away. This was not the kind of kiss she'd read about or wanted. It didn't feel special or make her happy like Echo and Wrecker said it would. It just made her feel sick, because he wasn't the right person. He wasn't Tech. It was supposed to be Tech or nobody. 

Her tentacles slammed into his stomach when she finally fought back with her strength, hard enough he hit the opposite wall, and she scrubbed at her mouth with her hand. "Not supposed to be you!" She yelled, blue rings popping up and her fangs bared. "You’re not-"

"Shiani!"

"-Tech…" Her fury died in her throat and she turned a flushed blue when she heard the clone’s voice.

He had his blaster out, an absolutely lethal look on his face and one hand held towards her. "Shiani, come here. You, do not move." Tech didn’t even remember when he drew the blaster, but he wasn’t about to forget the horrified look on Shiani’s face when the creep put his hands on her. Or the sick, jealous feeling in the pit of his stomach when he’d seen the zebrak’s lips touch hers. The siren darted to his side immediately, and he moved her behind him. "I’m sorry, Tech. I didn’t-"

"You did nothing wrong." He cut her off before addressing the definitely drunk zebrak. "While I have no doubt that she could have killed you and been within her rights to do so, she did not. So let me make myself abundantly clear. You will leave. You will not return to a Cid's Parlor. And if you see Shiani ever again, you will not address her or touch her. If you do so, I will shoot you on sight. And I am a very precise shot. Are we clear?" 

The man nodded, hands up. “You can fucking have her. She’s cuter with her mouth shut, though.”

 Tech took a step back, pulling Shiani even with him. "Go, before I change my mind about shooting you."

The zebrak raced past them and out. Once he was gone, Tech holstered his weapon and looked at Shiani. His expression softened, and the hand that had been firmly on her shoulder moved to her cheek. "Are you hurt?"

"No… I’m okay." She whispered. "S-sorry. Shouldn't have left the bar… just trying to get away without making him mad…" Her eyes started to water and her hands came up over her mouth.

Tech wiped her tears with his thumb. "Shh. You are safe." He assured her in an impossibly gentle voice. "Do you want to go back to the bar, or to the ship?"

"Ship, please…" She whispered. She could hide her humiliation in her room at the tailgun. 

He nodded, keeping a hand on the small of her back as he guided her to the Marauder. The bunkroom door was shut, and Omega was not in her room. Hunter must have let her crash with him, anticipating a need for a private conversation between Tech and the siren. 

She sat down on her cushions and scrubbed at her eyes unhappily. Tech sat beside her, trying to figure out if what he wanted to say was going to make her more upset. 

"Sorry." She finally mumbled again. "I know you don’t like it when I cry…"

"It is an emotional outlet. You do not need to worry about my comfort." He sighed. 

"Can't help it. I always worry about what you think. And you saw… that." She hung her head. “I feel disgusting… I didn’t want him to touch me, but I didn’t want to get in a fight…”

"I should have noticed you were gone from the bar more quickly. This was not your fault."

"But it's gone Tech!" A fresh wave of tears started and she couldn't get them to stop. 

He blinked. "... What is gone?"

"First kiss. All the stories say it’s special. It’s supposed to matter, and you remember it forever. I just want to forget, though." She hung her head. "He tasted like smoke and liquor…"

Tech paused. "Is that what you were saying, when I intervened?"

"Yes." She wrapped her tentacles in loops around herself, not looking at him. "It wasn’t supposed to be him. Supposed to be… no, nevermind.."

"I would like to hear it." Tech urged. He knew what she was going to say. He should have known it years ago, but he’d been to preoccupied with trying to maintain what they had that he’d forgotten things could be improved. 

"It was supposed to be you." She whispered. "Or nobody at all."

Tech sat with that for a moment. "May I propose a solution?"

"How can you fix this?" She gestured vaguely, finally turning her head to him. 

"While I cannot undo what has already occurred, I was initially looking for you to discuss our previous conversation on the topic. I… may have acted without all available data." He pushed his goggles up his nose. “It was brought to my attention that you have been using a secret code to indicate your feelings for far longer than I realized. Which means if you were going to come to resent me, you would have done so by now.”

She sat stock-still, hanging on his every word once again, like when they'd been alone on Kamino. "Omega told you?"

"She did. Apparently I have been answering without realizing it for a while now." He smiled a little, slipping his hand down her arm to catch her hand and give it the three squeezes he was accustomed to. It was the first time he’d responded knowing what it meant to her, but he meant it. "While I cannot give you back a first kiss, I would be delighted to make up for it in numbers."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Please?"

"Come here." He shifted so he was facing her and patted his thigh, encouraging her to slide into his lap. 

“This is a different kind of touching.” She said cautiously. “You don’t like things changing.”

"In this scenario, and with you… I do not mind. In fact, I am looking forward to it."

She hesitantly let herself slip into his lap, her thighs over his and knees folded on either side of his hips. The plastoid of his armor was cool and hard, but she didn't mind when his arms settled around her waist and pulled them chest to chest. He lightly tipped her chin up, careful with her where the last touch had been harsh. "You have pretty eyes." She said softly, honest and smiling shyly. "I’ve always thought so."

"My actual eyes, or my glasses?" He chuckled, letting his gloved fingers stroke her cheek. 

"Yes."

He leaned in, pressing gentle lips against hers. It was sweet, almost feather light, and when he pulled back she found herself chasing his lips with her own. Tech laughed again. "I take it that you like this?"

"Yes." Shiani breathed. "Kiss me again?"

"Of course." This time when their lips met, he cupped the back of her neck and pressed a bit harder. She squeaked into it and his tongue slipped into her mouth, careful of her fangs, and coaxed her to reciprocate. It only took a little encouragement to turn heated, both of them having tried to ignore the desire for far too long.

When Tech broke for air, his goggles had fogged up. "Shiani… If you wish to continue this, I have a confession."

She smiled dreamily, licking her lips like she was trying to coax him back to her. "Mm?"

"There is very little data on your species… I am not entirely certain of biological compatibility or if you even… what I mean is, I am not sure how this is supposed to work or…ah, if sirens…"

She giggled. “Have sex?"

"Yes." He flushed. "While there is clearly some way your people procreate, I was unable to find anything to indicate how or if it was done for other purposes…"

Shiani nodded. “We make love just for love, not just babies.” Her head moved to his shoulder, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and nuzzling against the collar of his blacks. “In this form, it’s not too different from humans.”

Tech raised an eyebrow. “I was unaware you were familiar with human intimacy.”

She giggled again. “Your brothers told me what kisses were, so I looked them up. They lead to other things sometimes.” 

He almost laughed along with her, and the sheer ridiculousness of realizing she’d probably be looking at porn like an anthropologist trying to understand humans. “Are those ‘other things’ something you’d be interested in?”

Shiani nodded, peeking up at the curve of his jaw from her spot on his shoulder. “You weren’t the only one who wanted it. I just didn’t have anyone to tell.”

Tech tipped her chin back up and kissed her once more, shifting to lay her down in the middle of the bedding. “Do not hesitate to tell me if you are at any point uncomfortable.” He murmured against her mouth before sitting up to remove his armor with his usual military precision. She watched him, not quite sure where to put her hands and suction cups, until he’d stripped to his blacks and was climbing back next to her. He leaned back against the gunner's seat and once again patted his thigh. 

This time she was eagerly climbing into his arms, letting him arrange her so she was straddling him. His hands lighted on her hips, moving her exactly where he wanted her. When he found the right angle, he guided her pelvis to grind against him. 

Shiani held tight to his shoulders and buried her face in his neck as she gasped, heat pooling in her core with every pass. The friction of their clothes, his strong arms holding her, and the faint groan right next to her ear was sinful. She'd wanted him for so long… her Tech was finally holding her like she'd dreamed about. 

Tech was delighted with her demanding, needy sounds. He knew where on a human body he could stimulate, but with Shiani it was all an experiment. And he loved experimentation… he turned his head to carefully trace his tongue down the delicate fin that formed her ear, then blew a stream of cool air over the moisture. 

She shuddered, hands squeezing his shoulders hard. "T-tech…"

"Your ears are quite sensitive." He purred, voice low and borderline smoldering. "I wonder where else I could touch that would get those pretty sounds out of you. The legends were correct, sirens have such enchanting voices."

Shiani fumbled a tentacle down his arm, bringing his hand to her chest and pressing it into her skin. "H-here…" She whispered. 

Tech nodded, slipping his hand underneath her shirt to palm her breasts. He was surprised how full they were, for her size and need to be streamlined in the water. But they fit nicely in his hand, and when he squeezed she gave him a breathy whine of his name. "May I remove this?" He released her hip to tug at her shirt. She nodded breathlessly. "Arms up, my lovely girl."

She raised her arms and Tech pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before he skimmed his hands up her sides. Her belly and chest were a lighter purple color, and the delicate buds were nearly ultraviolet. Tech's lips latched onto her immediately, catching her before she could topple backwards when she arched into his mouth. 

He lavished his attention on her chest, teasing the stiffened peaks. Her skin was so soft, delicate under his tongue. "To think, I could have had you long ago. You would have been mine right there in your little cave on Kamino, wouldn't you?"

"All you ever had to do was ask…" She gasped when his leg flexed under her, grinding into her core again and adding another level of need to the blooming lava under her skin. Siren females usually took the lead in situations like this, but she liked the way Tech handled her. Then again, sirens didn’t use their mouths like this either. Her people might have been more deprived than she’d realized. 

She sang such a pretty tune for him that he couldn't resist drawing out more. Pulling her down again, his free hand slipped into her leggings and began exploring her. He found she'd been correct that she wasn’t too different anatomically from a human, at least based on what he could feel. Her insides were another story, but this was something Tech knew how to work with, and he deftly teased the bundle of nerves between her legs. She was slick and desperate, now grinding of her own accord on his hand. "Good girl." Tech crooned, tongue following the dip of her collarbone. "Keep moving, just like that." 

When Shiani shifted again, he twisted his wrist and slipped two fingers into her. She clenched tight around him, voice pitching upwards and teeth clamping together. Her pretty cries turned into a humming, as he began meeting her rocking hips with his own movements. She was a spectacular instrument in his hands, soaking through her pants and his own where she was in his lap. 

"Go on, mesh'la. Let go and come for me." He urged, curling his fingertips against something wicked inside her. "It's vital that you are relaxed before I give you anything more." His thumb moved in quick circles on her apex, drawing her to the edge of her resistance almost lazily. "Very good, my dear. Oh, you look so pretty like this. Go on and come."

Shiani caught hold of either side of his face, pressing her forehead against his and letting out a haunting note as she broke open on his fingers. The sound plunged into his chest with the force of an ion cannon, carrying a million sensations. Warmth flooded his extremities, his heart did a triple-time uptick, and his churning mind went silent to only one thought that remained.

Utter devotion. In your presence, to the point of distraction. In your absence, to the point of pain. 

She went limp in his arms, head falling off of his to rest on his chest. She was breathing hard, gills fluttering on her sides. When Tech eased a free hand down her spine, she shuddered at the feather light touch. 

"Are you alright, Shiani?" He whispered, dazed himself. 

"Y-yes…" She panted, nuzzling against his throat.

"What was that? That… note, when you put your face to mine?" He blinked the cobwebs from his mind. 

"Siren kiss." She giggled. "Closest thing we have, anyway. It shares everything we feel… you understand now."

"Indeed I do." He kissed her temple. "Catch your breath."

She nodded, already perking back up at the kiss. “I like the way humans do this. Hands and mouths.”

Tech chuckled, sitting up as she pulled his shirt over his head. “I take it that is not a part of siren coupling?”

“No. Just singing and straight to sex. It’s still supposed to feel good, but I like this. I like feeling like I can worship.” She cooed, her hands moving immediately down his chest. He was flecked with scars, but lean and strong under her palms. The sharp nails he'd seen rip into enemies moved so delicately now across his skin, tracing his abdominal muscles and drumming playfully over the cradle of his hipbones. She seemed to consider something as she openly admired him, before pressing her lips to the center of his chest. "You’re beautiful." She whispered, slithering backwards from his grasp to move her reverent kisses downward. 

He adjusted his goggles again as she met the waistband of his pants. He was rock hard by now, straining against the fabric his pretty siren helpfully relieved him of. He started to raise his hips to assist, but a pair of tentacles around his waist just picked him up a few inches so she could pull them off. "So are you." He blinked as she set him down, reaching out to run his fingers over the coiling limbs that had occupied a significant portion of his brain since he’d hit puberty. 

"What was it that you wanted me to do with these?" She giggled again, looping one over his wrist to bring his hand to her face.

Tech went red and swallowed hard. “I… uh…”

“I’ll let you think about it for a minute.” She cooed, dropping her eyes to his erection begging for her attention. “Do you want me to touch you like you touched me?"

He nodded, enraptured by her eyes. Maybe the legends about sirens were right and her song was hypnotic, because he was hooked. Her lips parted, and before his lust-addled mind could do the math on it she was dropping them over his length and swallowing him down. 

He'd be proud of his fortitude to let a venomous woman put his cock in her mouth later. In the moment, he couldn't put two words together. His usual grace and intelligence vanished with the warmth and suction of her mouth, and Tech turned into a desperate babbling mess. "A-ah, Shiani… pre-pretty girl… oh fuck Shiani, I- osik, ner cyar'ika- stars, I ah-ah…"

Shiani peeked up at him as she swallowed, careful of her teeth and watching him squirm. He bucked and arched at her attention, so she pinned all four limbs flat with her tentacles and held his hips down with her hands in the sweetest of torture. She might as well have been built for this, able to keep swallowing as she breathed through shuddering gills until her flat nose was pressed against his stomach and he was fully seated in her throat.

Tech lost his mind, eyes closed as she worked him over. He was pinned, out of control in a way he’d never been willing to tolerate with a partner… but he could, did trust Shiani absolutely. She’d never take advantage. He could let go, stop thinking, and just exist in the euphoric buzz of this…

"I- I am going t-to… oh fuck!"

Profanity sounded funny from his mouth, but Shiani didn't have time to giggle over it before her mouth was flooded with salt and Tech was writhing in her embrace. She let him pop from her mouth, and sat up after pressing a kiss to his pelvis. He was breathing like he'd run a marathon, watching her as she cocked her head at him and swallowed. "O-open your mouth." He finally mumbled. 

She obligingly parted her lips.

“All the way.” Tech swallowed hard, and she blinked before splitting her mouth to let him see that she had indeed swallowed every last bit of his release. 

"Perfect…" He breathed. "Come here."

She let him loose of her coils and climbed into his arms, settling on his chest comfortably. He hugged her to him, burying his face in her head. "You okay?" She peeped, eyes bright and a sly grin on her face. 

"I am… excellent." He mumbled. "Give me a moment, my dear. Standard refractory period is… oh, I forgot. A few minutes."

She giggled into his chest and busied herself with kissing his neck, keeping herself entertained. “Good. You can tell me exactly what you want me to do with my tentacles now.”

"There will be plenty of time to explore different methods of pleasure, cyar'ika." He ran his knuckles down her cheek lightly. “I don’t intend for this to be the last time, do you?.” 

“Absolutely not.” She breathed, stretching up across him to kiss his lips. Her fingers carded carefully through his hair, holding him in place as she set an almost languid pace of kisses.

Sure enough, his enhanced genetics kicked in after a few minutes, and he was pressing insistently against her hip. "I know that I insisted you wear pants on the day to day, but they are currently in the way. I need you undressed immediately." His patience was dwindling rapidly for anything but burying himself into her. 

Shiani sat up and kicked the offensive garment to the floor, Tech scooping her back to him and pressing her onto her back with surprising ferocity. “I am aware you are more flexible than a human, and we can explore that later.” He shifted his weight to his knees and dragged her pelvis into his lap. "But right now, I want to see your lovely little face."

She nodded eagerly, arms akimbo above her head. Tech squeezed the flesh of her thighs lightly before pushing them back, leaning over her as he folded her in half and slowly drove his length into her. 

Shiani's gasp was broken and wanton, fingers grasping into the bedding as the clone sank belly deep. He generously gave her a minute to adjust, his eyes half closed. "Y-you are exquisite." He finally rasped. Beyond exquisite, she was warm and inviting, splayed out under him like a forgotten sailor's dream. No wonder men of legend had chased sirens to their own deaths. How could anyone know a thing like Shiani existed and not be willing to sacrifice it all just to hold her? 

And he was the fortunate one, the one who was saved from drowning instead of being dragged into the depths. She loved him, all this time. It was up to Tech to love her back half as well as she deserved. 

So he gave it everything he had, setting a pace that let him drag the winding coil back to dizzying heights in her stomach. His goggles were half off, crooked and sliding down his face with sweat but he didn't dare fix them. There was no way he was taking his hands off her right now. 

"My pretty, perfect siren." He groaned faintly, her muscles clenching nearly enough to undo him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers this time.

She knew what he was begging for and cupped his cheeks, pouring out her melody for him. The heart stopping song dragged them both under, hitting the peak in sync and a debilitating flash of climax. They spilled limply into each other, muscle and bone turned to butter. Tech pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Shiani ran her claws tenderly through his hair. They lay there staring at each other, breathing hard and still tangled together. 

"I love you." Shiani managed to whisper after a blissful eternity, finally able to say it to him. She’d been sitting on that feeling for too long. She wasn’t meant to keep feelings inside, she was built to sing them. It had been smothering her, and now she felt weightless. "With all three hearts."

"I… love you too." He closed his eyes, soaking up the sensation of her adoration and trying to express his own with only his shaky arms around her. 

Shiani cuddled a little closer, listening to his pounding heart by her ear. It was so strong for only one…

Tech suddenly paused, opening one eye. "Shiani?"

"Yes?"

"... did you say you had three hearts?"

Shiani was asleep when Tech woke up. They’d been up all night, talking between bouts of sex. He hadn’t realized how many gaps there were in his knowledge of her people, but she was pleased to answer his questions. They had three hearts, they were selectively bioluminescent and used it as another part of their body language, and the faintly blue patterns on her skin brightened whenever he touched her in the dark. As she slept, they pulsed softly in time with her dreams. 

She was sprawled over his chest and stomach, the clone wrapped comfortably in her limbs and stroking her head gently. It was nearly noon, and they probably needed to get up and moving for the day… “Shiani? Wake up, mesh’la.” 

She stirred sleepily, pushing her face into his sternum like a petted tooka kit. “Mando’a…” In no hurry to open her eyes, she let her head tentacles wrap around his wrist and hold his hand to her face. 

“Yes, it is Mando’a.” He smiled. “You studied the language, didn’t you? Do you remember what it means?”

She propped her chin up on his pectoral with a smile, tilting her head enough to kiss at his wrist. “You think I’m beautiful?"

"I do." He nodded. 

Her delight was palpable, and she snuggled into him more. "Good."

"We should get up. There may be a mission waiting for us." He reached for his goggles, discarded on the floor. "They will probably tease us. Do not let it bother you."

"Brothers tease." She yawned, and he curiously watched her mouth. 

“Would you ever consider letting me study your venom?” He caught her chin delicately.

“If you want to. But why?” She blinked.

“It would be beneficial to know how it works, and potentially develop an antivenom or resistance. If you recall, there was a very sensitive part of my anatomy in your mouth a few hours ago. An accidental bite would be unpleasant, and end a night prematurely.”

She smiled, letting him trace the seam along her cheek. “Good point. But don’t let Hunter see. He thinks I look weird.”

“He has half his face tattooed. He is not allowed an opinion on your face. Which is, by the way, adorable.”

“He’s a good brother, though. Sometimes, watching him with Omega makes me miss my brother.”

Tech kissed her forehead gently. "I know it will not make up for such a loss… but my brothers and sister love you now. It is just imperative that you realize I love you most."

Shiani giggled. "Three hearts, one for every type of love. Friend, family, and romance. I love your family with two, and you with three."

"Clever girl." Tech smiled, handing her her pants. "Come along."

She got dressed quicker than he did, watching him once her boots were on. He was covered in little purple splotches from her mouth, mostly on his neck and chest. In neat rows across the rest of him were lighter ones, perfectly round from her suction cups. She was a little proud of them, the unmistakable proof that Tech finally loved her back. 

Once he'd gotten his armor on, he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

She nodded eagerly and took his hand, letting him lead her out of the ship and into the Parlor. His siblings were in their usual spot, Omega still finishing her breakfast. 

"Hey Goggles! Where do you get off scaring people out of my bar?" Cid demanded. "That guy took off like an irling out of hell!"

"He put his hands inappropriately on Shiani. It seemed logical you would not want someone like that around your establishment." Tech shrugged. 

Cid blinked. "Guess that changes things. You okay, Suckers?"

Shiani nodded. "Tech rescued me. Do you need anything fixed, and I’ll pay for their breakfast?"

"Nah. I got a mission for you guys. We'll call breakfast even if some creep was giving you a hard time." Cid handed her two plates, and she passed one to Tech as they sat down. 

"We eat fast and go work then." Shiani nodded, accepting a cuddle from Omega. 

"You sure you're alright?" Hunter frowned. "Maybe we shouldn't have gone to bed so early."

"Shiani okay. Tech help." She explained. 

Tech nodded. "I only had to draw my blaster, not fire it."

Hunter's expression shifted as they ate, keen nose catching something lingering on the both of them. "Oh. I see."

Echo smirked at his sergeant's tone. "Guess it turned out to be a good night?"

"We are not having this discussion." Tech grumbled. "The only thing that concerns you is that, yes, Shiani and I are in a relationship as of last night."

Wrecker grinned. "Finally."

Omega smiled. "That's why you look so happy!"

Shiani nodded. "I”m very happy, Baby Mega."

Tech jumped when Hunter hooked a thumb in his blacks collar and took a look at his neck, then whistled. Wrecker and Echo laughed. 

"What's so funny?" Omega blinked at Shiani. Tech turned red, hoping she wasn't going to embarrass them both in her lack of awareness about human social expectations. Honestly, she was worse than he was most of the time…

She patted Omega's head gently "I just kissed Tech too much. They’re teasing, don’t worry."

Tech sighed with relief and waved his brothers off. "That is an accurate description."

"We'll, lovebirds. We got a job, so let's get going." Hunter smiled. Shiani shoved her breakfast in her mouth and nodded. Tech just tried not to smile at how cute she could be. "Tried" being the operative word, but he was definitely falling.

[akamikazae]

Sorry in advance for asking all these things 😭 but first up, your oc is cool! She’s so stylish as heck! She gives me that 80s funky/chill vibe and her hair is flawless! And I adore for bond with sasuke so much, Ahh. Would it be ok to ask about their lore together? How did they meet and bond together like mother and son? (And kakashi too! He’s papa).

Plus, I also appreciate all the Sasuke positivity so much. From your drawings to random posts. It’s so refreshing and uplifting for me. There’s to much negativity for the poor kid these days. And I greatly respect the “my son!” Feeling to for sasuke. I to get that parent vibe haha (sasuke is little guy no matter what, must squish respectfully).

And for atla, if your oc and characters you like. What benders would they be? And if they are besties with any of the Alta crew?

-

P.s; i do Like seeing the snake positivity! It’s wonderful seeing that. Poor things also get bad rap as well. (I like seeing hognoses, they are cute!! Myself I wish I had one and tarantulas😭) ANYWAYS, TY FOR POSITIVE CONTENT SO MUCH. Be well and have a great day/night! Sorry again for the long ask!

Never ever be sorry for sending an ask! I love love getting them and getting to chat w lovely pals like you! So thank you for popping over to send me an ask ❤︎₊ ⊹  You are always welcome to ask about my lil fam! I will try to keep it short and sweet lol ₊⊹ Ahhh thank you so much for saying so, Akami is very very dear to me! I’m glad u think she’s got a bit of a retro vibe. I always see her fitting in well w that 90s-ish style from the 80s to the 00’s ! (I actually have a 90's au for them too)

Shisui was one of Akami's first childhood friends and later her first lil love. She goes w Shisui to meet Sasuke when she’s 13yr, he’s only a few weeks old but the second she holds him and his chubby baby hand swipes her chin she falls in love. Bc of her relationship with Shisui Akami spends more and more time around Sasuke— he’d be tagging along after the big kids, but she always made time for him. Even if it was 20 extra minutes before a mission or after a long day of training, she’d hide her injuries and play with him instead. She’s one of many Anbu called to the scene the night of the Uchiha massacre. The second she found him all alone she knew she was taking him home and she quit Anbu that night.  Akami never felt heard or seen as a child so she tries her best to make sure that Sasuke has a voice. She didn’t intend to take on a parental role; it just happened over the years. She’s always open about his family and ready to listen when he confides in her, she teaches him every single uchiha jutsu she knows (and eventually kakashi does too) so Sasuke can still feel connected to his Clan. She gets him through his nightmares and defends him tooth and nail, she teaches him how to cook and use a sword. No matter what, he's always gonna be her baby and she’ll be his Kami-chan. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for him.  Akami and Kakashi knew each other as kids, they did not get along until their traumas sort of forced them to see eye to eye and rely on each other.  But it wasn’t a friendship until their early-mid teens, even then it always felt like more. Shortly after she takes in Sasuke they start a tumultuous FWB only to realize they very obviously love each other. Sasuke approves bc Kakashi makes Akami happy and is always there for her (for better or worse) and Kakashi and Sasuke start to have a very meaningful connection well before he becomes his sensei.  Yes parent squad ! Sasuke deserves the world and I love that you love him too!!<3 In ATLA Akami would be a water bender, she’s a descendant of the Yuki clan so it just seems fitting for her heritage! Tho I’d be wary of her healing abilities, she’s more of a fighter and I would not put it past her to learn how to blood bend! (She was Anbu Root for a reason💀)  Sasuke is fire bb! Kakashi I go back and forth on but I think he would be fire too .I love love love love ATLA and have tried to make an au for her but I find it hard to imagine Akami interacting w the gang (They all just feel so young lol- though she’d probably like Suki and Zuko best) I think that she would get along really well with Piandao! June, Jet and Iroh too. She’d def feel some sort of kinship for Azula (ruthless + manipulative never taught to love, w similar mommy and daddy issues!🤝lol) Yes Yes! I love snakes, they are so beautiful !! When I made my oc I really wanted to have her be ostracized because of her father and resemblance so it’s so fun to play w both the beauty and monstrous qualities for her. 🐍Akami and her summons Ryū are based off of mangrove pit vipers and Copper bellied water snakes ! Thank you again for the ask! I could blab about them all day if my super long winded response wasn’t proof lol 💕💕Take care my dear and have lovely day and or night :)

[bayleaf-2]

Drew some art of the progression of Lyra's feelings about Ioun

But it's like 11 PM and I should sleep so I'm gonna post the art and make barebones captions/context, go to bed, and might just remake the post if i wake up, look at it, and go "voci. voci...voci thats not enough buddy"

With that in mind!

This is when Ioun apologized to Lyra after they were resurrected (they died in the Zehir fight) and (in my mind) the start of Lyra having. A closer relationship with her, or seeing her as more than just. (Because we legally cannot call Ioun our boss) the person in charge, hense why it's labeled "beginning." Their thoughts in that moment are general feelings of appreciation, surprise, and relief. Debated putting warmth in there as well. Probably too soon. Maybe. Idk!

Transcript: Lyra's dialogue reads "Tough!" which is what they said to the goddess of prosperity trying to offer them deals. Description reads "Loyalty to Ioun after she apologized."

Ioun apologizing combined with Emily inviting Lyra to stay with her once all of this was over (AUUUUUUUGH) pulled Lyra out of their mortality crisis, hence the design change! They're wearing old (aka Elion's) earrings and actually put effort into styling their hair :)

Transcript of the bottom one: Nerd <3 "I love her" (Connotation: I just think Ioun's neat :) ) "I need to apologize to her if we fail"

Nerd refers to this being the time where Lyra starts researching and interacting with the library. "I just think she's neat" is a reference to that one Marge meme. Point being the "I love her" is a casual declaration with no deeper feelings attached. "I need to apologize to her if we fail" is referencing this:

Now a disclaimer on that: I wrote that months ago and while the og idea still holds in that I was planning on doing it, I would absolutely tweak the wording now. Also that's from my writing server so the wording is mostly for me. in terms of what "today" and "everyone else didnt follow orders" means I think that was the Tiamat fight? Timing indicates it's Tiamat. I do not know what "orders" past Voci is referencing. It might be the deals thing. ANYWAY!!

General summary for that point: Closer but still not quite friends. That being said Lyra's more cheery around Ioun and seeking out talking to her just cause.

Transcript: Lyra thinking to themself "God I love her she's so cool" Description reads "Whale convo, which is almost directly post Vecna" (So Lyra is thinking that as Ioun's talking to them) and then the bottom one starts with "After Ioun leaves and they're just thinking" Lyra's thought reads "...Oh." with the description "Means [I love her] in a different way than before"

Squish! :) Congrats lil guy! You love her and now you gotta hide your feelings so you don't pressure her because that'd be really fucked up of you! Yeah that includes your thoughts! Good luck suppressing those! (HE FAILS. HE SLIPS UP SO MUCH I'M DYING TO TAKE PROPER NOTES ABOUT THAT SHIT YOU HAVE NO IDEA)

"Voci why is the 4th heart in the scale grey instead of black in the top one" Uhhh I'm not sure. I think it has to do with Lyra not really knowing what their feelings are?? Like it's vague and then once they're actually reflecting on it, they realize it's something more than just thinking Ioun's neat. Btw it's not clear in this shitty photo but Lyra is blushing.

Transcript: Ioun saying "I do care, by the way." Lyra verbally keysmashing in response, which is cut off by the tiny tiny page. Description reads "right after the trial".

We had a trial where Emily was trying to make a case about the wording of the curse so we wouldn't have to kill her and only temporarily banish her (and Ioun. And possibly the Raven Queen. And anyone else who ascended) outside of reality. It was a really formal court though so everyone was in like. Proper boring formal wear and Lyra went the safe route of going in a suit yes I know that collar looks scribbly I was drawing in front of a campfire okay

I??? This is hard to describe, but by this point, Lyra's feelings are deeper, like they weren't...flustered by Ioun before, at least not to the same extent, and now they are, if that makes sense. I hesitate to say their feelings got? Deeper or more intense, because the timing makes this extremely fucky. And also feels like I'm in the danger zone in terms of possibly using aphobic wording. So I'm just gonna hold off for now.

And there's another art I drew of. The dream conversation where Ioun and Lyra ended up holding hands for an enTIRE FUCKING HOUR but it wasn't finished and I think? That moment kind of speaks for itself? So I'll just. Leave that there and sleep now gn <3

Again apologies if huge chunks of this don't make sense this is one of those moments where the hyperfixation is just Taking the God Damn Reins and I Have To Show People This

[whatohitsonfirewelp]

Okay okay okay

The Marcus, Percy, Penny and Oliver friendship (with appearances from Cedric)

These dumbasses break the rules all the time they just know how to not get caught

They snuck into hogsmeade in their first year by accident and just never stopped going

They have snuck into the hospital wing(?) become of quidditch accidents or Penny and Percy were experimenting with spells and potions

Before Cedric was a prefect they would sneak him into the prefects bathroom because they knew he would absolutely love it

Marcus and Oliver accidentally found the kitchens and now all four of them are great friends with the elves and never stopped going

They all will wonder around past curfew or sneak out of their houses during the summer to meet up

Penny and Percy refuse to just read about spells and potions. These nerds love to experiment and it’s ended up blowing up in their faces so many times

Penny had to wear a wig for months because half her hair got burnt off and she wanted to know if there would be side affects if she let it grow naturally

Percy had glowing eyes for a week once and it was a pain for the four of them to hide it

They have both ended up with so many broken bones

Oliver walked in on an experiment once and both had to tackle him since it was about to explode

Marcus has so many before and after pictures for black mail

Marcus and Oliver are actually great friends when it’s not quidditch season and when it is they have to be separated

Percy out right picked Oliver up and walked away with him because he was about to tackle Marcus

Penny has threatened to spell certain parts of them if they don’t behave

Marcus and Oliver both ended up with detention for weeks and nearly kicked off their teams because the fighting got so bad their 3rd (they had a fight during the summer and the tension was higher during the season because of it)

Oliver and Percy get matching tattoos when they find out Oliver is going to be a professional player and get drunk

Marcus was there and was laughing the whole time

Penny won’t talk to them for three days because they went without her

All three are threatened by Percy to never tell his family

Oliver loves his and starts to get a few more over the years

Penny and Percy always wanted to work at the ministry but other always knew it wasn’t perfect

They actually got into a fight with Oliver and Marcus about in when Voldy first returned

Penny had to sit them down and explain that they don’t trust Dumbledore and they aren’t sure if it’s true

But they won’t completely take it out of the equation but it’s important that they get the ministry to trust them so that they can help those who need it when he really comes back

Percy and Penny both apologize to them when they find out he really is back but they stay working there because it won’t be easy but they have to help where they can

Marcus disappears for awhile and none of them are sure if he’s on the run from his family or became a death eater in a attempt to help them and protect them

Oliver doesn’t work for the Order but instead for a much smaller and quiet group and he sends them information from Penny and Percy

When Percy leaves/is kicked out from his home

He goes to Oliver first and then the others come over

There’s a lot of crying

Then a lot of yelling

And then a lot of hugging

They actually have gotten into some weird and at times dangerous situations

Percy accidentally ends up great friends with Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey. They let him in on a bunch of old hogwarts secrets and it’s great

Oliver and Percy once set their room on fire and Penny will not let it go

Marcus ‘accidentally’ flooded the prefect bathroom

All four of them taught themselves and Cedric defense against the dark arts because they shed they had terrible teachers until Remus

You know who the stairs move? Well Penny fell through once and Percy barley caught her and both were screaming because the stairs were still moving and they thought she was going to get squished

Percy actually forced Oliver to try out for the quidditch team and dragged him out for them because Oliver was scared

When Penny and Oliver introduced Percy and Marcus to muggle things they always took delight in tricking them. Many soda cans have exploded

One time when Flying Oliver grabbed Percy who was grabbed by Penny and then all three of them were in the air screaming because Oliver had started to slip off from the weight

Marcus had to grab his broom and help Oliver get back on his broom

Cedric was there and laughing the entire time

Percy actually stress bakes and cooks and Marcus loves it

But Marcus didn’t bother to tell anyone he was allergic to strawberries and then they had to take him to the wing because he ate a strawberry cupcake

“It looked good!” Was his defense

As I said, they are dumbasses who are best friends

So Penny and Percy dated before breaking up when they realized they’re better as friends

Marcus and Penny are so tired when they figure out that Percy and Oliver are in love

When Marcus comes back in the middle of the war and finds out they aren’t together he buys Penny a bottle of fire whiskey because she’s had to deal with it alone

Penny can’t cook at all and when she tried she nearly burnt down the kitchen

Oliver once accidentally ate broom polish because he wasn’t paying attention

Marcus becomes a movie nerd once Penny and Oliver show he and Percy movies

Percy ends up quoting yoda a lot because it annoys the rest of them

When they first meet Cedric Penny out right takes one look at him and nods and says “this one is ours”

Percy has to explain that they can’t just claim first years

Oliver was the one who actually helped Cedric train for becoming a seeker

Marcus doesn’t let anyone bully Cedric

None of them can sing at all but that doesn’t mean they don’t try

Percy can actually play a bunch of instruments and Marcus is good at piano

Oliver doesn’t care but he can dance

Penny can do none of that and has broken a toe dancing and snapped a flute in half

The other three are very fearful of her strength

Penny can draw and she makes glass art

Percy is actually good at sports like he’s average but he doesn’t like to do them. Well he does but only one

He likes swimming

Penny was actually a quidditch player (thank you @quidditch-myths for this idea) and she use to do track. Sometimes she still runs but not as much

Marcus is weirdly good at tap dancing and none of the understand why

That’s all for now but I will make more of these

[suzy-queued]

Gallacrafts!!

For this month’s @gallacrafts, I got (Not) Boyfriends Era. 

When Ian was nine years old, he realized they never hung stockings in the Gallagher house.  He’d seen stockings on TV.  He’d seen them in stores.  But the only nod his family made to Christmas was a sad fake tree.

He broke his piggy bank and bought all the siblings stockings from the dollar store.  He made sure each one had at least one gift in it on Christmas morning.

Every year, the stockings became Ian’s thing.  He’d put a pack of cigarettes in Lip’s.  He’d put some eye shadow in Debbie’s.  He’d put a grocery store gift card in Fiona’s.

Every Christmas morning, his family smiled at the little extra gifts they received.

Every Christmas morning, Ian’s stocking was empty.

He didn’t care at first. He knew the stockings were his way of spreading extra cheer.  No one asked him to buy them, so why should anyone else be expected to participate? 

After a few years, it became a secret holiday tradition for him to feel his stocking on Christmas morning. Maybe this would be the year he’d finally receive something.  Maybe this would be the year at least one of his siblings would think to buy one little token and drop it in there.

He couldn’t say anything to them.  He couldn’t ask for their participation, because that would ruin the spirit.  But with each passing year, his sadness deepened. With each year, that massive bubble of hope he carried around was met with a dramatic pop.

By the time he and Mickey were sleeping together — but totally not dating — Ian had years of empty disappointment.  He slunk downstairs on Christmas morning expecting to see his stocking lying flat against the fireplace.

Except, it wasn’t.

His stocking had a bulge at the top, a misshapen gift with brown paper sticking out.

Ian looked around the room at his brothers and sisters opening presents and sipping hot chocolate. They’d already emptied their stockings. They’d already started to build a fire hazard of paper and crumpled bags in the middle of the living room.

Ian sat on the bottom stair and clutched the stocking to his chest.  It didn’t matter what was inside.  Maybe it was a rock from Carl.  Maybe it was a squished cupcake from Debbie.  All that mattered was that his tiny holiday wish had finally come true.

After his heart slowed and he ran his fingers across the fabric too many times, he reached inside.

The paper bundle he pulled out was tied with a string.  It said “Firecrotch” on the outside, which made Ian shake his head.  He knew exactly who it was from, and he strained to keep his emotions from bowling over. 

How the hell had Mickey pulled this off?  Maybe he crept in last night.  Maybe he slipped the gift to Lip and asked for his help.  Every day, Mickey found a way to surprise him. 

Ian untied the string with a shaky hand.  He smiled so wide, he thought he’d burst.

Inside the paper was a random assortment of stuff from Mickey’s house:  A lighter.  Brass knuckles.  A bullet.  A sample of the good weed he’d been promising to let Ian try.  A knife.

But there were other things, too.  A blue ticket from the carnival they’d snuck into back in the fall.  A plastic sword from when they’d eaten a sub sandwich together — and subsequently stabbed each other all afternoon with the little green blade.  A couple of band-aids because Mickey always told him he was the clumsiest motherfucker.  A little pen drawing Mickey had done of a skull with bleeding swords.  A set of earbuds because Mickey was sick of Ian always stealing his.

None of this stuff would mean anything to anyone else. 

But it meant everything to Ian.  

———————

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students. 

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. ���I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door. 

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

NAGĀ!SERO

Hey y’all! This is a part of the Citrus Server Hybrid!AU Collab! The masterlist is HERE, please please please go check everyone’s pieces out!

A/N: I am fully aware that this is all over the place, ya girl is off her meds and will edit later. Please don’t tell me it sucks, I already know and I hate it, too.

SERO HANTA X F!READER

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, angst, smut, double penetration, aphrodisiac, interspecies miscommunication, size kink, breeding kink, mating, idk tell me if i missed anything

You had always heard stories about creatures in the forest; ones that eat humans, ones kidnap children, ones that would hurt you if you ever ran off by yourself. You didn’t believe them… Or maybe you did, but either way, the creatures could never be as scary as the life you already lived.

You had been taken prisoner when your coastal village was raided by pirates. Your clan’s viking warriors were off on a journey, leaving all of you oh so vulnerable with depleted numbers. They were going to kill you, like they did most of the others, but the pirate setting fire to everything in his path halted when he found you trembling under the rubble.

“Tomura, come see the new toy I found. Don’t you wanna keep her?”

“You sadistic bastard, how you get off to them crying like that never fails to make me sick. I don’t care what you do with her, Dabi, but I’m not cleaning up after you this time.”

They hauled you back to their ship, stripped you of everything and chained you in the hull. People came in and out, always different but always vile. You never spoke, you knew they wanted your screams. Overhaul, the captain, was the worst. You never knew when he was coming, and once he was there, you wondered what he wanted from you at all. Chained up, never touching you with anything but knives and his boots, not looking for your reactions… You wondered if he’d even notice if you stopped breathing. You dissociated for most of it, choosing instead to safeguard your mind, plan an escape.

About a year later, you found an opportunity in the carelessness of one of your captors. You docked someplace warm, someplace humid, maybe tropical? Toga had left your chains too loose after your last “date”, and had tossed the keys just a bit too close. As soon as she left, you had slipped your wrists out of the restraints, strained for the keys, and unlocked the shackles around your ankles. Not taking a moment to revel in the surreal feeling of being unchained, you listened until the heavy footsteps above you all faded into nothing, leaving the ship and most importantly: leaving you alone.

You ran. You ran so steadily, somehow comforted by the sounds of destruction getting further and further away. You found yourself blindly sprinting into a forest that looked nothing like your own, so damp and bright and warm. You kept running until you heard shuffling behind you, causing you to find the first thick vine hanging in your vicinity and clung to it as you climbed. Looking back, you see a simple boar grazing the forest floor. Sighing in relief, you relaxed a bit too soon, as the vine you had wrapped yourself around began to move.

Before you could react, you were wrapped up tightly in bands of muscle and brought towards the head of the- wait…- man? You had heard of nagā before, but the ones from your village’s stories were never described as so… tan, muscular, handsome. He didn’t look all that mean from the waist up, just the black, orange, and yellow scales trailing down his massive, strong tail seemed intimidating. He looked confused, concerned even, by your nakedness and panic stricken silence. Forked tongue flicking out to taste the air, smelling the blood and the abuse on your skin, seeing your quickly defeated body give up, and your mind resign itself to the comfort that at least you died free of your captors.

“Are you… okay?” The giant snake rumbles, human hand reaching towards your face and recoiling when you flinch.

You haven't spoken in months, your silence having been a security blanket, and you’re not ready to give that up. You do nothing, just look into his eyes and search for any sort of indication as to what he’s going to do. He loosens his grip a bit, just enough to slip down from his tree and head towards his hide- an old cave covered in ivy, moss, and little orange blossoms. He brings you in, and places you down on the ground before turning away to rummage through his things. He brings out water and bandages, along with some kind of salve that looks like a mixture of plants. You don’t reach for the water when he sets it near you, so he resorts to using the tip of his tail to bring it to your lips while his hands are busy tending to your wounds and gently rubbing the salve over your poorly healed scars. He offers you food, very confused when you don't seem to know what to do with the forest rodent he’s brought you, and decides on fruits he’s found. You don’t seem to want to do anything, not even going to sunbathe even though you’re obviously shivering.

THAT’S IT!!! SHE’S COLD! He thinks to himself, before wrapping his tail around you once more and bringing you outside to the rock where he typically warms himself. He gently places you down, uncoils you from his grasp, and gives you enough space to move as you please. You blink a few times, slowly realizing you’re free. He helped you? For no reason? He doesn’t know you…

“H-Hi… Thank… Thank you.” You mutter, looking away and blushing.

Cute… He thinks. “YOU TALK!!! What’s your name? I’m Sero, but you can call me Hanta! I was worried about you! Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get here?”

The line of questioning makes your head spin, and you try your best to answer before looking down and realizing you never found clothes. Blushing once again, you meekly gesture to your body and ask, “C-Clothes. I need clothes.” Hanta looks confused, but retreats to the cave and returns, bringing you a large piece of cloth that somewhat resembles a hemp blanket. It smells like oranges and spice, and you unconsciously snuggle into its comfort. Sero notices your calmed reaction to his scent and approaches you, gingerly grasps your ankle and picks up your leg, never having been so close to a human, and explores the strange angles your appendages bend.

“What are you doing?” You seem embarrassed, despite the number of people who've touched you before. This is too familiar, too intimate, almost too gentle.

“Tiny… Humans are… Small…”

You let him bend your limbs and play with your squish, strangely calm and trusting in his presence. He seems so enthralled by your body and how you move, so intrigued. That is, until he makes his way to massaging your plush thighs, causing a rush of arousal you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. He prys opens your legs to continue his ministrations, not knowing the smell of your lust would have him flicking his tongue out and his eyes turning to hyper-focused slits. He suddenly releases your legs, slithers around your back, and presses against you. He taps the top of your head with his chin and waits for your response. Not knowing what this means, but wanting him to continue his exploration, you lean back into him and whine quietly.

You have no idea what you’ve started.

Hanta leans down, pressing sweet kisses down the column of your throat and leaving scathing bites in all the right places. Aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins, you don’t even register his muscular arms wrapping around your body and lifting you, carrying you back into his cave and up into his hammock. He wraps his strong tail completely around your torso and takes his time kissing and groping your soft body, mumbling “mate, mate, mate” into your heated flesh. He finally makes his way down to your mound, prying your thighs apart and diving straight in before you could question his reverent gaze.

“HANTAAA~” You practically screamed as his long tongue slipped between your folds, running along your clit and down to your clenching hole, his saliva increasing the heat coursing through your core. “M-More, please… More~”

“More, what?” He smirks against your heat. “Say it. Tell me I’m your mate and I’ll make sure you’re fucked dumb, yeah? My pretty little mate.”

You stutter for a moment, getting more desperate the longer his fingers drag along your wetness. “Mate… Please! I need you… I’m yours!”

“Good mate~” His tongue wriggles back into your cunt, and his fingers slowly move further down to stretch your tight ass, making you squeal in surprise. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, all thoughts abandoning your mind as you ride out your high on his face and fingers.

“Are you ready, little one?” He growls lowly, lining up two long, thick cocks with each hole. Your eyes widen in surprise, head clearing for a moment after your climax.

“T-two?! Wait wait wait, I’ve never… I can’t! Two?!”

“Oh, little mate, but you can and you will!” He punctuates his statement by spitting down onto your cunt, thick venom slipping down to your tight rim. You moan and grind against his cocks, aphrodisiac leading your body into a blissed out state of submission. “Gonna fill you up so good. I promise you’ll be so full, feel so good, little mate. Trust me?”

“Y-yes! Wanna be full, want my mate!” You beg and plead for him to push into you, hips bucking against him, trying to get him to satiate the burning want he’d created. It isn’t until you thread your fingers through his hair and wrap your legs around his waist that he thrusts into you completely.

“That’s it, wrap around me like that. So tight, so warm… Fuuuck!~” Sero pants, chest pressed tightly to yours and face tucked into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking deep marks over your pulse point.

You’ve never felt so full, your body strangely welcoming the pleasurable stretch of your holes, pulling him deeper and deeper until you can feel him in your belly with every roll of his powerful hips. Your whimpers and tears only seem to spur him on, drawing orgasm after orgasm from your body.

“S-Shit, keep squeezing around me like that. Come on, little one, I know you have one more for me. Cum with me, I wanna feel you cum one more time. Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so good. Come on, pretty mate- fuck- cum for me~” He reaches down and pinches your overstimulated clit between two fingers and bites down on your neck one last time, sending you over the edge with a cry of “breed me, breed me, breed me!” and nails digging into his back.

“Mine! My mate, pretty little mate. Breed mate, all mine!! Gonna- gonna… Ah~” Hanta’s words steadily fell from his lips as he released deep inside your holes, belly bulging from the sheer amount of seed he spilled into you.

Utterly exhausted and dreamily floating off, you cling to him. Sero wraps you up in his tail and lays back into his hammock, keeping you as close as he can. When you snuggle into him, he whispers little praises into your hairline, a constant stream of “so good, pretty mate, all mine, i love you, so perfect, did so well, took me so well, such a good mate”.

The next day, you wake up surrounded by soft cloth, feathers, fruits, fluffy furs, a dozen shiny objects and pretty dried flowers. You sit up, looking around frantically for your mate before your eyes settle on a sheepish-looking Sero, wiggling nervously around the cave.

“Um… Do you… like it? I made it for you… I just- please tell me you like it!” He shrinks himself a bit, arm coming up to palm the back of his neck.

“Oh, is this a… nest? It’s- It’s very nice. Thank you, Hanta!” You smile softly at him, curling up into your nest and reaching out for him.

“MATE!!! I’m so happy you like it, I was so nervous!!! My mate. You can stay here all the time, so I can protect you, forever! My pretty little mate.~” He climbs into the nest and coils himself around you, content to guard you.

Maybe this time, being kept isn’t so bad.

[ohheyitsokay]

Home

this all takes place in my poly frontier universe

pairing: triple frontier guys - Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco (Frankie) “Catfish” Morales, and Ben “Benny” Miller x (f) reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: obviously a poly relationship, which includes kissing, domestic intimacy with all of them (not just with the reader, but not in-between Will and Ben because nope), mild sexual themes

summary: scenes at the beginning of making a house with five people feel like home

<<

The manicured grass is soft where it peaked around the edges of your sandals. Hands running over the grooves of they key in your pocket, you gaze around the little front yard, mind conjuring daydreams that fit on the weathered porch of the house.

Two bathrooms will be enough right? Your thoughts are running - creating and erasing images of the future, trying to squish them like magic into the home in front of you. The yard is big enough to extend the garage and for plenty of home projects…

Across the fence and a long stretch of field, a woman is hiking her skirts up, making a beeline for you. The neighbor’s house is a considerable distance away, being out in the countryside, but she must have been watching your tour from her garden with interest.

The others had left moments before, Santi promising to come back whenever you were done. After weeks of looking at houses, it became a little ritual of yours, to spend a few minutes looking around without the clutter of wonderful distractions.

“So which one of those strapping young men is your beau?” She asks conspiringly, eyes gleaming. It catches you off guard – the lack of introduction, but she seems harmless enough.

Your smile is equally mischievous, and your head tilts a hair.

“Well, which one do you think?”

The woman considers, boot tip tapping away at her grass. You replay the moments she could’ve seen, which were few, wondering if you’d leaned in any particular direction, and wait.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t got a clue,” her smile is wide, softer and more genuine than before - polite. “As long as you’re good neighbors,” she explains, “I guess I wouldn’t care if it was one or all of you next door.”

You smile, thanking her as salutations ring in your ears, watching with grateful eyes as she hikes back towards her home. Then you move, wandering through the empty rooms for long, quite minutes before you peak over the fence again. The woman had gone inside, and if you squint you can see who you think is her husband, sleeping with a dog on the porch.

In the other directions, there isn’t a house within a reasonable distance. A knot loosens in your chest, as an unexpected feeling of freedom from judging eyes blooms in its place.

When Santi comes back to pick you up, you take his hand across the console. His skin is warm, and his thumb automatically begins to gently move across your knuckles.

“I think it’s perfect, Pope.”

He looks at you curiously, minding his thoughts for a moment.

“Yeah, love?”

The sun was beginning to set, and you look at the peaceful little home in the rear view mirror, and smile.

“Yeah.”

-

“What?”

“We need to … break in every room.”

“I’m just saying -"

“Oh he’s talking about – wait are you really horny, right now?”

“There are boxes everywhere, idiot.”

You walk in carrying a single plant and a stack of pizzas and the conversation hushes.

“Ah – payment,” Frankie kisses your cheek, moving the plant by the window as Santi clears the table.

Someone makes a quip about it being Santi’s house and you wince, the utopia popping.

“We don’t get paid to move our own stuff, Catfish.” His dark hair is damp with sweat but he seems otherwise unaffected by the hours spent hauling. It was still surreal – that this is actually happening, that this unanimously became a long term desire.

He has the most money and Will has the best credit score, so they bought the house to save you all from questions. The movement isn’t lost on your Ironhead, and he rubs a soothing circle on your shoulder as he reaches for a plate. Of everyone, he was the one who most understood your anxiety – close proximity always led to arguments at first.

“You got lucky,” Benny takes the first slice, accepting a napkin for an additional piece. “You fell in love with a pretty good moving crew.”

“I think so,” you grin, trying to ignore your anxiety. He inhales the food, pulling you into his lap as he bickers with Will about whether or not more needed to get done today.

Eventually Frankie dictates that at the very least some cleaning should be started and the bedding should be unpacked for the evening. The agree with varying degrees of enthusiasm and after a handful of innuendos your loves begin to disperse, too dutiful to let work go unfinished. The bedframe practically builds itself, and a portable speaker makes Santi’s hips twitch as he floats through the half-barren rooms.

When Will rolls his eyes at Frankie’s choice of screw, you duck away, nerves thrumming.

And you wander around, fake cleaning, until you find your Benny clearing pizza plates. Even amongst boxes and bins and old blankets, he could be at a photo shoot. The evening light make his hair look like silk, and his eyes shine like he’s making you promises this very moment.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he says, drawing you into his arms as your head tilts. “We spent years in bunks and tents, and we were younger then.”

His chest was warm and you press your cheek to it, nodding. You hadn’t thought he had noticed, how anxious you’d been about the change, but you had been foolish. Even through his shirt, you can feel the thumping of his giant heart, steady as a drumbeat.

Replaying the evening in your mind, you let go of some of your worries, one by one, and he kisses the top of your head. It’s a thoughtful thing, and it never ceases to amaze you how easily he can wrap you around his finger.

“Ben?”

He makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a grunt.

You pull his face down to yours, kissing him hard. It was a kiss that says you're grateful, and a kiss that says you love him for being… him.

He accepts it eagerly, and tiredness from the day long gone ad he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. The world spins and you feel him shove something heavy off the couch before replacing it with you.

The cushions are dusty from everything but he makes space, and you stop caring as he moves on top of you.

The others would find you soon, their instincts kicking in, but you savor it. Benny, pressing into you, kissing you in the evening light.

The beginning of their conversation from earlier blooms in your mind and you grin as his lips trailed down your neck. It suddenly didn’t seem implausible that he planned this.

“Breaking in” aside, this was the first room you where you truly felt like this could be home.

-

You feel his hands gently replace yours on the zipper and you jump a little - he stands just outside the mirror reflection as you watch the skirts around your ankles. Behind you the big bed is made neatly, there’s a ridiculously large closet, and a tangle of phone chargers.

The bedroom: the place that set apart your home from others. The room that housed five individuals, a web of relationships, a miracle of mixed bodies and minds and hearts.

It looks big, behind you.

Warm, daft fingers tie the extra strings, a neat little bow hanging just between your shoulder blades. The silence is thick, weighted with adoration, but when he breaks it, it’s as if he can’t resist.

“You’re beautiful,” he moves closer, kissing your temple and drinking you in. Turning, your heart aches.

Will is in his dress uniform, crisscrossed with crisp lines and newly shined awards. His hair is lighter after the summer, and he tried to comb it neatly to one side. Compliments catch in your throat as you stare and he smiles, turning you gently so he can kiss you properly. His mouth tastes like mint and you can smell hints of his cologne lingering on his skin.

“Look at you,” you murmur, lips still brushing over his. Letting your hands wander over his face, smoothing his eyebrows, you feel almost in awe of him. Still, he flushes, pleased at your reaction.

“Thank you.”

His chuckle is warm, almost raspy as he tries to enjoy the quietness of your conversation, and he shakes his head. Really, you were sure he was thankful that he was been the only one free for your special evening.

“Thank you,” you correct him. “You didn’t have to do any of this.” The dinner, for your job.

In the mirror, he looked like diamonds and sapphires and gold. Will was like an action figure sometimes, solid and sculpted and stoic, but… he was looking at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

It made you blink, his eyes sliding over you, pupils just a little more blown than the lighting required - a gentle reset demanding your attention.

Looking back in the mirror for a moment, the room didn’t seem quite as big, or quite as revealing. It was comforting, how out of place the two of you looked, dressed to the nines because… this was your place. The softness surrounded by details perfectly woven into your life.

Turning, you slip your arms around his neck, gently musing his hair, and his eyebrows draw together, accepting, but confused.

And as you tuck your hand into his elbow and step into your heels, you resist the urge to thank him again.

“I like it better like this,” you admit, and he flushes again, beaming. Looking around, you realize you’re actually looking forward to coming home more than you’re excited to leave. It’s a new feeling, in this space with the four of them and it hits you, hard in your chest. Still, the man beside you is unwavering and you let the feeling consume you, knowing that you’re safe.

-

“Frankie, what is that?”

He flinches, nervousness cutting the excitement on his face.

“Rhetorical question,” Santi says, grinning at you. “He got it from a friend who was going to toss it out.”

It’s a hot tub, taking up a decent chunk of your back porch.

“If anyone can make it work like a dream, it’s Catfish.” Will’s tone is matter-of-fact, all honesty and pride.

Your sweet Francisco drops his tool and grabs your hand, his dark eyes big. “¿Cariño, por favor? From me, to you?” You can see his laptop up, replacement parts on saved tabs, and you tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He likes to have projects, needs to have somewhere to do things, fix things, create things. Maybe at one point it was because he liked the distraction, it was a … replacement coping mechanism, if you will, but it became his pride, to use his hands to improve your lives.

It doesn’t take long, two weeks at most, between his job and his loves, and his long list of honey-dos, but he does it.

“Please and thank you,” you say, and when he kisses you, slow and deep and happy, you hear cheers and high-five and you almost can’t kiss him because he’s smiling.

And it takes awhile to fill, (Will thanking the stars that the water bill is reasonable,) and even longer to heat, and then it’s ready. The boys yank on swim trunks, thanking Frankie with enthusiasm, and you watch them sink into the steaming tub with as they sigh.

You have a bathing suit, of course you do, but you pull on one of his work shirts, knowing he won’t mind the chemicals from the water making the stains blur. And you pair of shorts you caught him watching your butt in, thinking of acknowledging his hard work in your own way.

The volume of your bodies makes it overflow, hot water sloshing onto the ground, but it’s bliss. It’s big, and they shout over the bubbles, talking excitedly about the future, and your heart feels warm in your favorite way.

The others leave early, taking loud laughter with them, and it leaves you and your Catfish. You let yourself float, moving right on top of him, and his hands grab at your hips, slipping and sliding over your skin as he kisses you once, twice. Slow.

It’s late – the stars stretch, there’s a bit of a breeze, and there’s not a light on for miles.

“You like it?” his voice is raspy, quiet, intense, but almost shy. Like if you said no it would break him in two.

“Of course I do, Frankie.” He looks pleased, hand absentmindedly running under his shirt and over your side. Even with the heat of the water, his hand feels like socks warmed in the dryer some cold winter morning. Comforting, maybe a little electric.

You let out a long, happy sigh, and settle against him, content to stay with him until you’re pruny.

“I think…. This is exactly what this house needed.” He starts a little, surprised, but it’s not an exaggeration.

There was always work to do and things to change, but it was the first time you looked out, and didn’t feel a twinge of fear, that anyone was looking in. It would’ve felt vulnerable, intimate to be so exposed, but… it was perfect, because he created it for you. Confidence and pride bubble around you, and Frankie’s eyebrows dip as he smiles – understanding.

-

“Yeah.” Its simple, not too hot, not too cold. Just… right.

It feels like… tar and lava, hot and dark and thick, bubbling and sticky and you want to punch something. Or scream, or cry.

Your Pope finds you standing rigid, smudges of flour on your skin and clothes, pans and spatulas strewn.

“Are we out of sugar?” To your credit, you try to keep your voice even, but he knows you better than that.

Santi shakes his head, plucking it from the pantry and looking guilty. Your mind pauses it’s rampage, and you wince, because you should be the one making that apologetic face, not him. Hot tears bubble in your eyes and you hate it, hate that they’re coming for what feels like no reason.

“Baby,” he says, tone pleading, setting the sugar down and reaching for you. The afternoon sun makes his eyes like rich, deep pots of gold, his hair somehow both soft and statuesque.

When he pauses, the tears fall against your will, just two thick drops down your cheeks. His hand encompasses your whole jaw, thumb gentle as it rubs away the saltwater, and he looks a tad helpless.

And there’s understanding in his eyes and through the blur you think maybe it’s pity. He stands, and your heart clenches, knowing he’ll go get Will, or someone because you’re being ridiculous but… he doesn’t.

You’re saying something about how the kitchen is wrong, how it’s been building for days, you’ve been here almost a week and you can’t fucking find anything. Panic and frustration locked horns in your chest and you couldn’t breathe and all you wanted to do was make something nice –

Instead, he’s pulling out things and piling them onto the floor in categories around you. It’s almost comical the stacks he makes but he seems determined and in your confusion the tears slow to a stop.

“Santi –” he hushes you. The cupboard doors hang open, and he guides you, lifting you up and up and into his arms. It’s solid and grounding, and he’s not as tall as the others and you needed him desperately.

And slowly, you begin to put things away where it makes sense, to you, and he helps. Not once does he argue with you, not even a moment when his dark eyebrows knit together in judgement. Dutifully he cleans and places everything just where you tell him, and you can almost feel the steam rising off of you as you begin to cool.

The final pile is a mountain of cloth, aprons and oven mitts and… something you’ve never seen before. Or actually, something you had, just not in your house. A set of hand towels you’d wistfully looked at awhile ago, before talking yourself out of the purchase. You had dozens at this point and didn’t need more but…

The man seating on the floor, folding them into perfect squares, is the answer to the question your mind produces.

You feel like you’ve been hosed down from head to toe, almost cold from the absence of frustration in your blood.

Pushing the pile to the side you climb into his lap, as determined as he was, and he looks surprised. It’s silly: sitting in your lover’s lap on the kitchen floor, but it feels more real than a movie. It’s your kitchen, yours and his, in this moment.

You kiss him, slow and purposeful and –

He knows you like the back of his hand.

-

You’re sitting on the bathroom counter distracting Santi as he shaves when Benny bursts in to tell you a story.

Will trails behind him, patiently waiting for his brother to take a breathe so he can set the record straight. Absentmindedly he weaves between them to pick up a fallen hand towel, passing it to Pope to wipe the shaving cream from his jaw. They share a moment and Benny’s story stutters out. Looking up from your nails you see Frankie leaning against the doorframe, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

There’s hardly room to move – and you couldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrows are bent as he takes in the four of you, crammed into the spare bathroom, and Ben laughs.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

for the poly frontier:

@grogusmum

[xenobabble]

When one is crushing on the ex-prince of Wroth, it may be to their advantage to not doodle him while he's standing right there.

Aka I write a really self-induglent fic about Ga Jiarg. "Is the Cross an OC or a Self-Insert" Yes.

--

Visiting with the Wrothians was always interesting, their Stronghold was so… different from NLA. Isaac sits there, absorbed in his notebook, trying to remember any bits of his history to write down and try to fill in the blanks around. Elma speaks with Ga Buidhe and Ga Jiarg, while Lin and Tatsu are doing god knows what…

He can’t remember anything, even sitting here… He finds himself peeking at Ga Jiarg, over and over. It had taken a moment to register when they had been fighting each other, Isaac and company fighting tooth and nail to survive… But he was handsome. Very handsome.

He looks back to his notebook and soon enough, finds himself doodling in the margins. He’s not great at art, but when it’s just for him… Well, who cares? He can doodle badly all he wants. Even bad doodles of handsome cat aliens are allowed.

“Are your drawings supposed to be of me?”

Isaac jumps when he realizes Ga Jiarg at some point moved from where Elma and Ga Buidhe stand, instead crouching next to him. He’s staring at the page, at the dumb doodles. Isaac regains his composure, trying to close the notebook.

“Just doodles, sorry, I was bored and just drawing what I saw, and--”

Ga Jiarg snatches the notebook, standing and looking closer at the doodles. “The art of humans is odd. My people’s own is more… abstract. We focus on strong shapes and colors, perhaps the occasional realistic portrait. This is so… squished.”

“That’s because I don’t draw well,” Isaac replies, standing up. 

Ga Jiarg looks at him, frowns. “Your art is nice. Though I do not understand what these small shapes are.”

He points at the little hearts Isaac doodled around his badly rendered drawings of Ga Jiarg. Isaac feels like his own heart is about to beat out of his own chest while he thinks about what to say. Come on, come on… He needs an excuse.

“Just little shapes to fill in space,” he lies unconvincingly. “I like my doodles to fill in all the margins.”

“Hmmm,” Ga Jiarg turns towards where Lin and Tatsu seem to be poking about a Wrothian Skell. “You! Young Warrior of Earth!”

Lin perks up and peeks over her shoulder before walking over. Tatsu waddles right behind her, and Isaac has a bad feeling. Getting thirteen year olds involved in anything is always asking for someone to get hurt.

“Yes?” She asks, a smile on her face. “What’s up?”

He points out the little hearts to Lin. “Do these shapes have a meaning to you.”

“Oh, it’s a heart!” Lin claps her hands together. “It’s stylized to be all cute, since actual human hearts aren’t very cute.”

“I see,” Ga Jiarg hums. “And for what reason would one draw them?”

“Well usually,” Lin looks at Isaac and wiggles her eyebrows. “It has romantic connotations.”

Isaac decides it’s him who is going to get hurt thanks to Lin. It doesn’t help that Tatsu starts excitedly asking if Isaac likes kitty cats, too. He sucks in a deep breath, places a hand on his hip and points with his other.

“Lin Lee Koo. Go.”

“Okay, okay,” Lin puts her hands behind her back and grins, mouthing good luck before going back to the Skell, Tatsu following right after.

“You have romantic interest in me?” Ga Jiarg asks, pulling Isaac back to his current situation.

Isaac snatches his notebook back, closing it as quickly as he can. “N… no! Nothing like that! I just doodles hearts and stars when I want to fill in the area, no romantic interest.”

Ga Jiarg leans down, enough that his breath tickles Isaac’s face. “Perhaps that is for the best, especially for you.”

He straightens again and walks back to Elma and Ga Buidhe who both shoot Isaac looks. Neither bad looks, but looks that made him want to curl up on himself, nonetheless. He waits for a moment, trying to remind himself not to get too embarrassed…

He walks over to Lin and Tatsu, refusing to look back at the ex-prince of Wroth, and decides to get some revenge. A little noogie never hurt anyone, even if Lin yells at him that it’s unfair to use his height against her like this.

Oh well, life wasn’t fair. Especially when she nearly gave his stupid crush away in the worst way possible. She could handle some unfairness… Especially when it felt like there were yellow eyes on his back.

[chokemeanakin]

A Helping Hand (part two) - Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader (whump and smut)

Hi this is the smut part enjoy :)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

WC: 2.4k

Anakin was right. Your shoulder was healed with a bit of bacta, but your wrist-- for lack of better terms-- was fucked. By the time you had made it to the infirmary in the Jedi temple, your fingers were going numb and you had no motion at all in your wrist. Not that you had any motivation to move it.

Anakin was forced to stay in the waiting room as you got x-rayed and treated… which included setting the broken bones back in place. You were thankful he didn’t have to see that. After you were let loose, Anakin brought you back to his and helped you wash up. He even cooked for you and made you a mug of tea while you lounged in his bed, loopy from pain meds, resting your newly casted arm on a pillow. 

In the days directly after, you were a crabby mess. The council had not, in fact, decided to give Anakin a break, and he was sent back into battle only a day later. You had to come to terms with the fact that you were going to take a while to heal, which meant you were effectively useless to the Republic army until you were all better. The realization was like a blow to the chest-- you would take months to heal fully. What were you supposed to do until then?

You blew off some steam by focusing your efforts on training your uninjured hand to be able to throw. It should have been something you had worked on before, but your injured arm had been so good at it, there was no need. Now, you learned your lesson and began training your non-dominant hand to be just as good.

There was another reason you were in a terrible mood. It had been far too long since you had blown off steam in… other ways. Before recent, Anakin hadn’t been as busy, so he took care of you. Usually it wasn’t a problem when he was gone because you could just do it yourself. But ever since your wrist started hurting, you haven't been able to satisfy yourself. It had been weeks, and the clunky cast on your wrist reminded you that there were still months to go. 

Anakin came back from his most recent mission during the last few hours of the afternoon. He had been gone for over a week, and you missed him terribly. When he came through the door, you expected him to be exhausted, covered in dirt and debris, and begging for some food. However, he opened the door to find you getting dressed from your shower, his leather armor perfectly clean and a bright smile on his face.

You wanted to say something, but he beat you to it.

“Good news,” he shrugged his robe off, discarding it on a chair before immediately coming and wrapping you in his arms. “The Council gave me a whole week off.”

You squeezed him as hard as you could, the cast on your injured arm keeping you from holding him to your full potential. You breathed in his scent, closing your eyes as you felt his chest rise and fall with every breath. Wordlessly, you pulled at him to get on the bed, and he took the hint. You stayed pressed against each other as he settled onto his back, and you buried yourself into his chest. Your cast hung off to the side awkwardly.

“How’s your arm doing?” he spoke into your hair, rubbing your back.

“Doesn’t matter,” your cheek was squished against his chest. “You’re back.”

His body shook with laughter beneath you. “But is it feeling any better?”

“Still broken.”

“Have you been icing it?”

“Every day.”

“Taking your pain meds?”

“Occasionally.”

“Thinking of me?”

You hugged him tighter to you. “Always.”

He sighed contently, hand dragging soothing lines up and down your back. Unfortunately, with the way you were laying on him, his leg was slotted between yours. You wanted to relax and enjoy this peaceful moment being alone with him for the first time in weeks, but there were other needs that were taking over the forefront of your mind.

You shifted your hips, hoping he wouldn’t notice your movement as you rubbed against him. You just needed some sort of friction, the blood in your veins becoming hot as you felt the first sparks of pleasure in weeks. If Anakin hadn’t noticed your movement, he did notice the color now staining your cheeks.

“Something wrong?” he pulled your chin up to look at him.

You froze. “Not at all.”

“Really?” the hand on your back shifted to grip onto your hip, pushing you against his leg.Your eyes fluttered closed at the eruption of pleasure, giving you away. “That’s what I thought.”

His tone dropped a decibel, words dripping from his mouth like honey. That was always one of your favorite things about him-- the slow, smooth way he spoke. He could do nothing but whisper in your ear, and you’d be all ready for him.

“I missed you,” you responded truthfully, then looked to your casted arm. “I-I haven’t been able to…”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, smirking as the pieces instantly clicked. “Oh, you poor thing,” his hand travelled from your hip and between your legs, applying the gentlest pressure over your underwear. You shivered as he traced slow circles into your most sensitive spot, closing your eyes again and leaning into his touch. He kept his hand under your chin, forcing you to face him.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” he remarked. “Good thing we have a whole week to catch up.”

You balled the robes under his leather armor in your fist, squeezing at his shoulder for purchase. He let go of your chin and moved his hand to your neck, bringing you down so he could kiss you. 

It was sweet; a slow, gentle kiss that mirrored what he was doing to you below. You needed him to go faster, but he seemed content with this relaxed pace. He was teasing you, you knew it, but you were afraid that if you called him out on it he’d draw it out for even longer.

You began shifting your hips to meet his fingers, grinding yourself against him. Your body sang like a live wire as he deepened the kiss, slowly tasting you. The deliberate movement of his tongue against yours had you pooling in your panties, sighing into the kiss.

You needed your underwear off. Now. You sacrifice your good hand from his shoulder to reach down, but it was harder than expected to shift them down your legs.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled against your lips. “Oh.”

He chuckled deeply at your failed attempt to rid yourself of your underwear, pulling them the rest of the way himself. “This better?” he breathed, fingers returning to massage deep circles into you. 

You moaned in answer, rocking your hips in time with his movements. He pressed quick kisses into the delicate skin of your neck, slowly building you up with his fingers until you were pretty sure you were dripping onto his Jedi uniform. You pushed aside every instinct telling you to continue and sat up, pulling at his belt.

He paused with his fingers still against you, watching you struggle with his belt for a moment. You pulled at the straps, but it was hard to undo with just one hand. He watched your face grow redder and redder, waiting for you to ask for help.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you admitted quietly. 

He caressed your hot cheek with the back of his finger, and then removed his hands from you so he could take off his own belt. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

You ignored his teasing and tugged at the leather armor. “This needs to go. And the shirt under it.” 

Anakin steadied you on him with a hand to your hip, sitting up so he could shrug off the leather armor and robes underneath. Watching him undress before you, you wished more than anything that you could drag your hands down his chest, feel the hard muscle of his abdomen beneath your palms-- both of them. But your casted arm still hung by your side, pathetic and burdensome. 

You swung your leg off of him so that you were kneeling beside him on the bed. He frowned, questioning what you were doing.

“I’m making a mess on you,” you gave a pointed leg to where you had been positioned over his leg.

“It’s no matter,” he brought you back to him for another kiss. “I can deal with a little mess.”

He trapped you beneath him, his arms on either side of you as he licked into your mouth again. You met his movements halfway, responding in earnest. Your new position allowed you to wrap an arm around his neck, and you lifted your casted arm to do the same, but hesitated. You didn’t want the hard material to hurt him, but it would be awkward if you just let it lie limply at your side.

He answered your silent debate by lifting the elbow of your injured arm, placing it around his neck like you wanted. Your chest swelled with warmth and you rolled your hips against his, searching for the feeling that could satisfy your ache. You used your knees to push his pants over his hips, and he removed them the rest of the way, kissing down your neck again. 

This time he didn’t stop, hands slipping under your shirt and bunching it up around your neck as he sucked wet kisses into the flesh of your breasts. You ran your good hand through his hair, watching the messy curls flop back down over his forehead. He smiled at you crookedly before ducking back down, lips marking a trail down your stomach, across your hips, to the inside of your thighs. His fingers dug into the skin there, pulling you open for him so he could taste the arousal that was waiting for him.

The feeling of him never got old. You bit the skin of your good arm in your mouth, head rolling back into the pillow. It had been far too long since you’d done this. His tongue felt like heaven, massaging you just right as he licked and kissed your sensitive bud. He wasted no time with teasing you, thankfully, as he forced you to come undone beneath him. 

It was embarrassing how fast you came close to finishing. Your legs tensed up around his head, and he held you open as he kissed deeper into you. Your moans bounced off the walls, uncontrollable as he kept up his sweet torture. The lava was building up in your veins, just about to burst, when he pulled back.

“You look so pretty,” he groaned, replacing his mouth with his hand. He spread your wetness around with his fingers, dipping inside you with one and then another, working you open slowly.  He watched himself do it, his gaze on you focused on the way his fingers disappeared in and out of you. You don’t know why it made you bashful, but you cupped his jaw with your good hand, pulling him up so you could clean yourself off of his lips. 

You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, nibbling on it as you reached down again to stroke the hard length of him in your palm. He pressed you back into the pillow, kissing you hard, thrusting into your hand in time with his fingers inside of you. You clenched around him, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim with his cock.

You positioned him against your wet folds, hinting at what you wanted, but he wouldn’t move his fingers. Instead he dug deeper, curling his wrist just right so he could hit the place that made you lose control. You broke away from the kiss to gasp, hand tightening around his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured, lips closing over yours again. He swallowed your whimpers and when you realized he wasn’t going to let up, you settled for rubbing the head of him over your clit. Your ecstasy was approaching again, he could feel the vibrations of your moans growing louder and louder. 

When he finally let you sink his length into you, it was like stepping into a warm bath on a rainy day. You were so wet and so ready, you opened up for him effortlessly, walls squeezing excitedly around him. He buried his face into your neck, breath hot as he marked your skin up. He made sure to be cautious of where you had been shot, skimming his lips over the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

Your bodies were pressed against each other at every point, not a single space left between you two. He buried himself deep inside you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he rocked in and out. It was slow and sweet and careful, yet satisfying all the same. You were both content with this, just wanting to be together and feel each other. You kept Anakin’s head pressed against your skin with your hand to the back of his neck, curling into the hair there. 

God, you had missed this. The warmth of his body against yours, the heavy length of his hardness scraping against your walls, the bliss that it pulled from the pit of your stomach. You arched into him, his arm anchoring you to him on the small of your back. 

It didn’t take long for either of you to finish. You cried out, hand tightening in his hair as he buried himself inside you, deep and deliberate, hips rolling just right. The pleasure washed over you in waves, and your body shook as you came undone beneath him. He twitched inside you soon after, spilling hot liquid into you as he groaned in your ear.

Your breathing was beginning to slow when he pulled out of you. He moved to pull his pants back on, but you stopped him-- this night was far from over, and you were just beginning. He shot you a cocky grin, and then pulled you on top of him with one arm.

“How’s your arm feeling now?”

You kissed his sternum, feeling his heartbeat beneath your lips. “Still broken, Anakin.”

[itsmeevie01]

A Moment in Time

ok, so. a little disclaimer before we get into the good stuff. Cannon is in no way whatsoever being followed in this. honestly? im not even sure that i REMEBER cannon at this point. that said, cannon is non applicable. at. all. 

moving on. YES, i WILL finish B!DBWM stuff eventually. but uh...not today. i just mentally cant. it. will. come. when. my. brain. can. handle. the. world. that. i. had. tailored. for. it. 

ALSO this is going to be kinda sporatic, but the goal (not end all be all but) is to have this wrapped in a pretty little package and finished (at least on my end) by the end of february.

and now....onto the stuff you came here for!

---

Marinette was running late to school when she met him. She ran into the boy and stumbled back, flailing to catch herself before she fell. He looked down at her owlishly, before looking around. By the time he had returned his gaze to her, the teen had pulled herself back together. He smiled and nodded at her, before moving to go around. When Marinette had pulled herself together enough to call a short “sorry!”, He was already gone.

That was three weeks ago. Now, she was looking at a picture of their interaction, where it blared on the front page of the newspaper that Jagged had sent her. When Marinette had received the package, she had been confused. Jagged wasn’t supposed to send her another demo for a few weeks. They were still working on singles. When she had opened the box and found five different American publications with her on their front page, the teen designer had shrieked. With shaking hands, she picked up the top one and studied the headline.

HAS BRUCE WAYNE’S WARD FOUND PARISIAN LOVE?

The bold text was catching, sure, but Marinette was caught on WHO it was placing her with. Someone she had never met. The second one had a picture of her next to Jagged at an event, and a picture of the boy next to a blonde girl. The headline wasn’t much better than the first.

TIMELINE OF THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN MDC AND THE HEIR TO WAYNE INERPRISES.

The teen snorted. She was starting to see the pattern. Putting the tabloid down the girl moved onto the next one. This one had, once again, a zoomed in picture of the five second interaction between her and a stranger. The title, however, was different than the first two.

ALL OF BRUCE WAYNE’S CHILDREN, AND THE INSIDE SCOOP ON HIS NEWEST DAUGHTER

She squinted, laughter bubbling up a little as she observed the piece of fiction. Whoever the Bruce Wayne was, Marinette hopped that he was able to combat this, because she had no intention of letting this fly.

Tim and Bruce were staring at the pile of papers in mild shock. When Jared had reached out to them in mild panic, they had been confused. His panic had been explained when the rocker had arrived carrying a stack of tabloid literature a foot thick. When he had thunk’d the stack down on Bruce’s desk, the businessman’s shock had been more than notable. When Tim had picked up the first few publications the initial look on his face was mirth, but it quickly morphed into shock, then panic. When he handed the top item to Bruce, the older man frowned. When the second pamphlet made its way to his hands, Bruce paused. His next move was to call the Wayne family lawyers. when he turned back to his old friend, all the faces in the room told the same grim tale of what was to come.

When Tim found out that it was Jared’s niece that he had accidentally run into in the brief moment in Paris, he wasn’t sure whether he should be more stressed by it, or if it was by pure luck. When Bruce’s friend went on to explain that the girl would probably already suing the reports and papers that had published the rumor, the young CEO was impressed. To have a lawyer on hand like that was…surprising, considering that she couldn’t be older than 18.

When he asked the rocker if he thought the girl would let anyone go after her, he laughed. Then, Jared Stone explained that the girl was known in Paris for squishing rumors with surprising efficiency.

That evening, Bruce invited his childhood friend home for dinner, and the star spent the evening telling stories of their capers as children, with Alfred grimacing in agreement with the stories. Partway through dinner, Jared’s phone went off. While the rest of the family tensed, glancing to Alfred, their guest frowned at his phone before rushing to answering. “Hey Little Rocker! How’s Pari- oh. So, Penny was more efficient then I thought she’d be. I- yes I figured that you may want to hear. Do- No! Marinette, what!” here, the man paused, his head cocked to the side, his eyes screwed up in thought. “No luv! Sue them within an inch of their lives! You more then have that right.” Here, the rocker paused before he laughed. “Tell that buzzing bee of yours that she’s a good friend. Alright, Miss Mari. I’ll ring you when I’m back on that side of the Atlantic.” He laughed again, “See you soon, Marinette.” The table stayed quiet, waiting for the man to give an indication on the status of the conversation. “Well, Brucie, expect to hear from my niece in the next few day, or at least, her team of lawyers.” the Wayne patriarch blinked before nodding in hidden surprise.

When the family was talking during patrol that evening, Tim grumbled. The 18-year-old was still taken aback that the press had even seen the momentary interaction almost a month ago. As his brothers listened in, many of them started to make fun of the teen. When Jason tuned in, he dropped in the middle of tale. At his confusion, Tim sighed and started over, again. While the family was laughing over his run-in with the press, the former Robin shook his head and silenced his family. He had a feeling he wouldn’t live this one down for a while.

Originally, Jason had found Tim’s predicament hilarious. Of course, the kid had to have the worst run-ins with the press. Then, he had picked up one of the many tabloids with the story. When he had seen the pictures, all mirth left the resurrected vigilante. The noirette that was looking up at him from the page? Yeah. He knew her. Better than anyone else, actually. With shaking hands, the young man paged to the story. What he found was…illuminating. So. She had been adopted. In France. In Paris. After forcing his lungs to draw breath, Jason pulled out his phone. He had arrangements to make.

The day after Jagged had sent her the gossip rags that were considered journalism, Marinette strode into school with a scowl so ingrained in in her features that anyone who didn’t know her would think the expression was permanent. When she stalked into the Lycée classroom, Chloé grinned at her from where she had settled in the front row. Marinette nodded at her friend as she slid in next to her. Lila came skipping in moments later, a cruel smile playing on her lips, before falling when she saw the bone quaking scowl resting on her nemesis’ face. “oh Marinette! Did something happen? Did…did you anger your parents? Did they find out about all those men?” the other girl huffed before turning to her. Lila froze as she was met with the iciest glare that she had seen in years.

“oh Lila. That’s so cute. It almost sounds like you still think that your little stories affect me at all. That’s…adorable.” The Italian girl shrunk under the younger girl’s stare. Suddenly, she understood why people had been warning her to leave the teen alone. this girl, she was brutal. “lucky for you, you’re not the one I’m after, this time. My lawyers have bigger fish to fry.” The newer addition to the classroom gulped, her throat suddenly very dry. It occurred to her that maybe Marinette had let her take control of the class. After all, if they turn that easily, why would she want them for friends. The smaller girl nodded as she watched the realization run over Lila’s face. Raising her eyebrows, the Eurasian girl motioned her classmate along, sending a cruel smile after her.

Chloé waited until the little liar was gone before giggling at her friend’s reaction to the girl who had become their daily annoyance. “I’m guessing you saw what’s been running in the American news? I thought it wouldn’t take long for you to respond. Are a plethora of lawsuits on the way?” Marinette giggled slightly as her severe demander giving way to the internal glee that was consuming the teen over the sheer chaos that was to come.

When Jason touched down in Paris, he tensed. The atmosphere in the city was less carefree than he remembered. There was an air that actually reminded him of Gotham. Tense. Waiting or the other shoe to drop. The expectation that your day was going to go wrong set from the moment one woke up. Pulling out his phone, the Gotamite looked up the address to the bakery that he had found when digging online. If today went the way he was hoping it would, the bakery would be his only stop for the day. Of course, he didn’t count on Gina.

When she called him over from where she was standing by her bike, Jason had to smile. The woman was part of the reason that he wasn’t still camping out in Gotham, waiting to kill a certain billionaire. Once the spry biker had latched onto his arm, the young man knew that his mission would have to wait just a bit. After all, he owed Gina almost everything he had.

[ellana-ravenwood]

The day he understood what Death means - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : The youngest Wayne makes a shocking discovery...And will need his parents, siblings, and the one and only Alfred, to recover from it. /Drabble.

I don’t know. I was thinking about this. How when you’re a kid, realizing that one day you’ll die, but worst, that the people you love will die, is sort of traumatic...And wanted to write about it. So. Here we are, with little Thomas eh. I hope you will like it :) :

My masterlists blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives​

__________________________________________________

If you have no idea who Thomas is, he appears in those stories (long story short he’s the youngest kiddo, biological of Batmom and Bruce) : The Great Mall adventure, Master of Diaper Shaky steps and bad teaching, Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, Wild Child 2, “We want them back”, How do you make babies ?“ and Mom got lost again”

                                                   ******

Realizing your loved ones are not immortal for the first time can be traumatic. 

Especially if they’re amazing, if they’re your heroes, if you admire them beyond all measure, if they love you unconditionally just like you love them so damn much, and if you can’t even imagine your life without seeing them every day.

If you can’t even fathom the fact that maybe, one day, they won’t be there when you wake up and go look for them. And that they will never be there again. 

And so it was particularly quite the shocking discovery for little Thomas Clark Wayne, 5 and a half years old, to find out about that certain thing called...”Death”. 

It happened on a moody, rainy Summer day. The weather outside was awful, even for Gotham City. And it meant that Thomas was calmly playing inside, rather than getting up to some shenanigans in the garden. 

His parents were home, it was one of those rare day they both had off. 

Which always filled little Tommy with joy. It wasn’t often he could get them both with him !! In the end, the fact it was rainy outside was good. It meant they’d probably all snuggle up later in the day, and watch a film, a mug of hot cocoa in their hands. 

You would probably throw a blanket over him, and keep him close, sandwiched between you and his dad. His father would fall asleep half-way through the film, which would annoy you and Damian. 

Damian would join for sure. Sitting next to you. Yes. He would. Maybe Tim too, if he wasn’t too busy with college ? Oh he would surely make the time to come. And Cass ? Yes. Yes Cass would be there, sitting in her usual spot, on the floor right in front of you (or maybe Tommy). Because she knew you’d gently run your hand through her hair, and your youngest son slowly took the habit to do the same. Which was so soothing to Cass...Duke would certainly be there, he never said no to a good movie. 

Maybe, because it was a rainy day, Dick and Jason would come too ? Unlikely, but Thomas could hope. He loved having his entire family in one spot. 

They’d ask him to do his “puppy eyes” and convince Alfred to join them too, and not work. 

Alfred had an armchair reserved just for him. Right next to the couch where Bruce would sit, leaving enough space for Ace to lay down (Damian’s dog, Titus, always preferred to be near his master, who would more often than not be sitting next to you, laying his head on your shoulder, even as he was not a child anymore...Yes, Titus sat next to Cass, at Damian’s feet, letting his head fall down in Cass’ laps). 

Ace...Ace didn’t feel well yesterday, and this morning, the “dog doctor” came. 

Thomas heard him say they needed to give him a...an “indection” or something ? (An injection, really) So he’d probably get better. Shots were supposed to get you better or to avoid you getting sick, that’s what you told him. 

His dad looked upset, but it didn’t alarm Thomas much. Because his dad was always upset when him or his siblings would get a shot, he hated going, so it was probably the same thing. 

Come to think of it, Thomas hadn’t seen Ace since the “vekerinarianan” (or whatever it was pronounced) came earlier in the day. 

He suddenly wanted some “doggle” (dog cuddles), and so he put down the toys he was playing with, and went to look for him. 

Maybe, he could also round up the rest of his family so they’d start movie time earlier ? 

Hyped to have some family time, as he considered his dogs family for sure, he went on the hunt to find Ace, and gather everyone else. 

If only. If only he had known...

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

“Aaaace !! Aaace ? Ace boy, where are you ?” 

This was odd. Usually, Ace would come running if he heard the little one’s voice. That dog loved children, and he made it his mission to protect all of them (bonus point if he had some snuggle, and a few treats, while doing it). 

Bruce told him long ago to protect his kids...So Ace was always there. 

Maybe he wanted to play hide and seek ? Thomas would play that game with Titus and Damian, Ace never seemed very interested, but maybe he changed his mind ? 

“Ace ? Aaaacceeee ?” 

The boy roamed the manor, but every room Ace would usually hang in were empty. 

Finally, he decided he’d ask his parents, who would usually hang out in...oh, they weren’t in their usual spot either. In their bedroom, maybe ? 

Thomas ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, sure that he would find Ace, and his parents, asleep in the master’s bedroom. When they had their day off, his mama and daddy would often take long naps together.  

Thomas immediately knew something was wrong when the door to the room was wide open. Slowly, he approached the place and...surely his parents were there. 

But something was off. 

His dad was laying in the bed, back to the door, his head laid in your lap. One of your hand was caressing his head soothingly, while the other was drawing calming circles on his back. 

Definitely something was not normal. You’d do that to your kids when they were sad, or sick...Was daddy sick ?! This gave Thomas a little fright. 

You whisper something into Bruce’s ears, and he doesn’t answer, just shaking his head to say “yes”. And so you stand up, after giving him a kiss on the cheek, and...You spot your youngest son. 

You smiled at him reassuringly, and go to him. 

“Hey little buddy. You should give a big hug to Daddy, he’s very sad today.” 

You say, walking past him and ruffling his hair. 

From the direction you were taking, you were going to the kitchen, and Thomas just instantly assumed you were going to brew some tea for his dad. When Bruce was sad, you’d always brew some tea for him, from his mother’s garden (which was kept up nice and clean by you and Alfred, now). 

Worried about his dad, Thomas slowly walked to him and climbed on the big bed. Bruce turned around to see what this new weight was, as he knew you had just left and...He smiled. 

Of this wide pure genuine smile he gave his family only. 

But there was a hint of sadness behind his eyes, and Thomas didn’t like that one bit. So the little boy crawled to his dad, and nestled next to him, wrapping his little arms around his dad’s neck and holding tightly. 

Bruce engulfed his son in his own arms, holding onto the little one, burrying his face in his hair. There was always something comforting, in the smell his kiddo had. It was a mix of your smell, which was always soothing to him, but also something more...Something soft and sweet. 

Just like his son. 

Little Thomas was the epitome of a sweet child. It was a miracle, a man like him made a child this cute and happy. Ah, but he wasn’t raising him alone of course. There was you, and his siblings, and Alfred... 

After a pause of the little boy holding his dad, he whispered slowly : 

“Daddy, why are you sad Daddy ? Please don’t be sad, it makes me sad too.”

Thomas unwrapped his arms from around his dad’s neck, and squished his little hands on Bruce’s cheeks. Which made Bruce sigh fondly, chuckling a little as he said, honestly (he shouldn’t hide this sort of things) : 

“Because Ace is gone.”  

There’s another silence, during which Thomas tries to understand why is the fact Ace went somewhere so sad. He cannot figure it out, so he asks : 

“But, he’ll come back daddy. Like always. Yes ? Ace is a good boy.” 

“Was.”

Bruce is clumsy in his grief. He always been. He’s not sure how to broach the subject to his son, how to explain to him their dog was just too old and sick to make it...He doesn’t know how to explain death to him. 

“Was ?” 

“Ace is gone for good.” 

“What do you mean Daddy ? Where did he go ? Why couldn’t we see him again ? Did he move out, like Dick ?” 

Oh. Oh the sweet innocence of a child that is maybe a little too sheltered by his family (he’s the youngest, the one they’re trying to keep away from the horror they see every day as much as they can...Although he’s still trained, all of them hope he will never become a Robin, or worst, a Batman). 

“Did he move out, like Dick ?” 

Sweet, sweet Thomas. Not able to even fathom that Ace is never coming back...and why would he ? How could he know what his father meant ? 

“No, no he didn't move out. He left us, to a place we can’t follow him to.” 

Another short pause. And you could see the gears in little Thomas’ head turning. After a little bit, he asks :

“...The toilets ?”

This makes his father chuckle, even in this sad times. But he continues : 

“No. Not the toilets. He...He went really far away, where we can’t ever see him again.” 

This idea is so foreign to your son, that he raises himself on one of his elbow and exclaims : 

“Why would he do that ? Does he not love us anymore ?” 

Obviously, the thought is distressing to the little bird. So Bruce says : 

“No no no, of course he still loves us...loved, us. But he had to go.”

“But why ?” 

“Because he was getting very old, and sick.”

“But we don't mind daddy, right ? We don’t mind ? He doesn't have to go away for that, I don’t care if he doesn’t play like he used to, I want him to stay ! Tell him daddy, call him on the phone to tell him to come back.” 

Bruce is lost. How ? How can he explains what death means ? He thought about this moment coming many times, but never told him anything as he thought that he had time to know what it meant. He had time...

How do you tell a child that one of his favorite “person” in the world is dead ?

“Unfortunately buddy, we have some sad news.”

His savior. You, as usual. With two cups of tea, and a cup of hot cocoa on a tray. As you went downstairs to get some “pick me up” for Bruce, you knew your son was gonna need it too. 

“What news mama ?” 

“Ace. He died today.” 

You actually thought about it as you were preparing everything for them. How to talk about this ? You decided to go with “honesty”. Not brutal honesty though. You weren’t about to traumatize your son. 

But you thought it was important he knew what happened to Ace. As a child, you hated how your brothers tried to make you think your ferret ran away to Las Vegas or something of the like. 

You understood this sentiment, of course. But you also remembered how betrayed you felt when you finally understood “death” and realized your beloved Mister Will Ferret was NOT in Sin City having fun, but just died...

The truth was important. 

Especially about such subjects. 

Children weren’t dumb. And they had every right to know certain truth.

Did you wish your son could stay innocent for longer ? Of course. But he still had a right to know what happened to his dog. To be treated like a person and be explained things. 

People, too often, treats children as some kind of idiots who wouldn’t comprehend complex things anyway, and who have to be protected at all cost from anything...

Kids were clever. You had a bunch of them to prove it so. But above that, although you agreed kids had to be protected...You weren't one of those person who thought you should lie to your children in order to do so. 

 Because one day, he’ll know what death is. He’ll know what happened to Ace. And what if the fact you lied that day, settles a slight distrust in him towards anything you’ll ever tell him ? Just like it did with you and your brothers ? 

No. You thought at first it was a good idea to delay such a conversation. But why ? Because it would make you more comfortable ? That didn’t sound very fair in regard of your boy.

Everyone always talked about “the birds and the bees” talk, but never about something that was even more inescapable than that...

Death. 

You give him a few seconds to take in your words. “Ace died today.” You wait for his reaction. He seems to think about it, having vaguely heard of “death” before...finally he asks : 

“What does it mean ?” 

He’s sitting up in the bed now. Bruce did the same, encircling his arms around his boy protectively (old habits die hard). But he’s determined to explain things to him too. You and Bruce were always rather in sync, about how you should raise your children. 

“It means he will no longer be with us. He passed away to something else.” 

“To what ?” 

“No one really knows.” 

“Will we see him again ?” 

“No.” 

“Why ?”

“Because he’s dead.” 

“And being dead means you can’t see anyone anymore ?”

“Being dead means you are not living on this Earth anymore, so yes, you cannot see them anymore.” 

“It means we can’t see him ? And what do you mean not on Earth ? Is he in Space ? Can we see him if we go to the watchtower ?” 

“I mean in our life, we will not see Ace again. He won’t be with us ever again. He’s not in space, he’s just gone.” 

“Because he’s dead ?” 

“Because he’s dead.” 

“So, being dead means we don’t get to see someone ever again ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ever ever ?” 

You decide to leave any conversations about a possible after-life aside, as it’s clear this, he’s not quite old enough to comprehend. So you keep on talking about the truth, with the support of Bruce. 

“Yes. Ever ever.” 

It takes Thomas a few minutes to take in all those new informations. Bruce is sitting on the bed, legs crossed, behind the boy. And your son is clearly lost in deep thoughts...Up until finally, finally tears are starting to well up in his eyes. 

“But I didn’t even say goodbye !”

“Unfortunately, we don’t always get to say goodbye...” 

“But mama, how will he know I loved him so much if I didn’t even say goodbye before he left ? How could you let him go before I did ?”

“I’m sorry, if I could chose I would’ve-...He knew you loved him and-”

“Are you going to die too ?!”

The dreaded question. Dreadest of them all, really. But you can’t lie to him. Not now that you started to explain things. 

“Yes. Everyone dies one day.” 

“But but but...but I don’t want you to die ! And Daddy ?” 

Bruce nods, and...and that’s when it finally happens. 

The awful moments your sweet innocent boy realizes what death sort-of means. That one day, none of his parents will be in his life anymore. Than one day, he’ll lose his siblings, and Alfred. 

Just like he lost Ace. Because he was “old and sick”. But...Thomas knew a lot of sick people ! And a lot of old people ! Were they going to die too, without him being able to say goodbye ?!

And so the tears started to fall. And oh, oh did they fall. 

Bruce held his son against his heart, drawing soothing circles on his back, just like you usually do. And you came to sit next to them, encircling them in your arms as well. 

Thomas was trying to talk, but nothing came out very clearly as he cried, cried, cried and cried some more. 

When he finally calmed down, he was slowly falling asleep, crying drained him of all his energy. That night, there was no “movie time”, but comforting snuggles with his parents... 

Thomas had finally discover what “Death” meant.

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

“Oh my God Thomas !”

Bruce’s heart drops.

The entire scene goes in slow motion, and the fearless Batman can see his entire life flash in front of his eyes, as his tiny son is running towards him, while a few thugs were about to shoot automatic weapons at him...

“There’s a kid ! There’s a kid !”

“Who cares, we have the bat right at our mercy, just shoot !”

“I can’t shoot a kid...”

“Should we shoot ?”

The few seconds of surprise after Thomas bursted in allow Damian to swoop down, and to get rid of everyone. Slowly, a serious face on, your son walks to his dad and, solemnly, he says :

“This was too close, father. And...Thomas...”

“I know Damian, I know.”

Your little boy was inconsolable, clinging to his dad.

They didn’t even have to ask him how he got there. It was obvious he somehow snuck into the Batmobile (which wasn’t that much of a surprise, although it was already quite a feat...Thomas was small, but also very stealthy, as he was taught to be).

He was only five, and it wasn’t really clear to him yet his dad was that “Batman” everyone talked about, that his siblings were also vigilantes...But he knew that when they went out at night, they were often in danger.

And that night. That night right after the one Thomas learned what Death was...He snuck in the car, so he would make sure “she” would not take her dad away ! Or her brothers and sister !

Only Damian and Bruce were in the car, on patrol together. The rest of the kids were scattered across the city, and you were taking care of the bat computer (nowadays you were the one doing so to give some relief to Alfred).

Thomas took the habit to fall asleep in the cave, in a bed there just for him...and he must’ve snuck into the car. 

It was nobody’s fault. It was very unlike the boy, to do such a thing.

He got into the car. When Damian and his father got out of it to apprehend a few of Two-Face’s thug, he stayed behind, looking at what they did...but when he saw those men about to shoot his dad (a proper ambush), he jumped out, punching every buttons (which was quite dangerous itself) to find which one opened the door, and then he ran to his dad...

The surprised probably saved Bruce. But it also almost killed him with a heart attack. 

What if those men didn’t hesitate long enough for Damian to take care of them ? What if they shot anyway, ignoring the surprising appearance of a small child ? What if they had recognize who that kid was, too ? (Unlikely, this was a time where Thomas was still quite sheltered from media, as you tried to give him a childhood as normal as you all possibly could). 

What if they shot anyway...

Bruce doesn’t think he would’ve survived the death of his youngest son. He was sure, actually, that he would’ve killed those men. 

That is, if Damian didn’t do it first. 

But it didn’t happen. It didn’t happen, but it was so close. So close. 

Later, when everything calmed down, Thomas would explain he jumped in the car to “keep death away”, to protect his daddy and brother. To make sure Death wouldn’t take them. 

And that's when you all understood Ace’s death, and the discovery that everyone dies one day, one way or another, truly was “traumatic” for your baby. 

From that point on, you made sure that Thomas would be in the cave...but this event. This event really unfolded a problem you knew you’d have to tackle truly one day. 

You just had no idea yet how to help your son. 

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

Damian had told Jason the debacle that was yesterday. About his parents explaining to their little brother what it meant to be dead. And about how it lead to Thomas sneaking into the Batmobile and running in front of danger to “protect” his dad. 

Because of where he grew up, Damian always knew what death meant. And he never cared much (or convinced himself he never cared much). He understood from a very young age what all this shenanigans was...

Jason did too. He found his mother, dead, when he was three years old. He grew up surrounded by death, in the gutter of Gotham. He knew. He did. 

But Thomas. 

Thomas was a “normal” 5 years old boy, as normal you can be in such a family. He trained a little, and sort of knew about his dad being “Batman” (but it seemed he didn’t understand he was ACTUALLY the Batman people talked about in the city). 

He spend most of his nights in a little area made just for him, with a bed and such, in the batcave (he hated sleeping upstairs alone, so he would sleep in the batcave and you’d pick him up to bring him in  his bed once you’d go to bed, and/or once the rest of your family would get home). 

So for a little one like Thomas, who was pure and sweet and nice...It was a shock, to know one day he’d lose the people he loved. 

He was inconsolable, at Ace’s funerals (thrown at the back of the Manor).  

He couldn’t get over the fact he didn’t get to say goodbye, and that he would never play with his dog anymore. 

It made it worst, that Ace’s death made everyone else sad. That dog truly was a member of the family... 

“I know you're feeling very sad. I'm sad, too. We all loved Ace so much, and he oved us, too.”

You told him a few times, tryin to put words on his emotions and helping him understand...God, to Damian, you truly were the most amazing mother. Always knew what to say, how to say it, when to say it.  

But Thomas was still blue, and it was so unlike his usual bubbly personality. 

And so, both Damian and Jason made it their mission to distract their little brother, and...it worked. For the most part. It really worked. 

Amongst all his siblings, Damian and Jason were the ones that loved having a little brother the most. Not that the others didn’t, of course ! They just were a little less willing to play for hours on end with a little kid. 

They were rather busy. Jason and Damian always found ways...They were an unlikely pairs at first glance. Most people would think Damian was the closest to Dick, and Jason too. But no. They were equally as close to all their siblings, in different ways. 

But Damian and Jason, they had an extra connection. Jason was there, when Damian was a baby. He didn’t remember his own name, and was used by the Al’Ghuls after they resurrected him...But he was still one of the only person in Damian’s life that truly valued him. 

Fate, right ? A funny thing. After all, how small did the world have to be for two of Bruce’s sons to meet in such a way ? A hidden son, and one he thought dead, at that ?! 

In any case. They were closer than most would think. And they also were linked not only by the Al’Ghuls, but by how they were both ripped off of an actual childhood, and therefor wanted to make sure their little brother had one too (Cass was the same, but more subtle, and discreet). 

And so...

They played, made art pieces, jigsaw puzzles, watched his favorite movies, cooked...Anything to take his mind off of “Death”. 

That little boy would overthink too much, for such a young age. 

But overall, Damian and Jason did a good job distracting him from the pain. 

They did an amazing job. 

You were so proud of how they took care of their baby brother (and it would give yourself more time to go cheer up the “Oldest Wayne”, your dear husband, who definitely had a hard time getting over his dog’s death...). 

Only, there was one problem...And that problem was that neither Damian nor Jason, just like everyone else, were immortal. 

And this, this, Thomas would realize very soon. 

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

“More compresses, Master Tim !” 

“On it Al !” 

The loud noises woke Thomas up. You knew. You knew you should’ve gone up to bed earlier. Tuck him in, and wait for your family to come back. 

Ah. But when they all arrived in the cave, ALL of them, including Dick who did not live at the manor anymore...You knew there was a problem. 

And indeed. Jason had been badly hurt. Not something that couldn’t be fixed, but ah, once again, too damn close. 

Everyone was on the tail of a high profile serial killer, the newcomer called “Dr Pyg”, and...Collateral damage. It happened, in this line of work. 

It wasn’t easy. Especially when it was one of your baby. But you had to keep a leveled head, as you helped Alfred fix your boy. 

You had taken medical trainings early in in your relationship with Bruce. For obvious reasons. And there was rarely a day it didn’t come in handy. 

In any case, all the noises around woke Thomas up. 

Before. Before he knew what death truly meant, he would’ve been worried. He would've cried. He would’ve been distressed. Of course. 

And one of his siblings would’ve taken care of him, reassure him, soothe and console him, and little Thomas would be ok again. 

Before he knew what death truly meant. 

He was so small anyway, most of the time he’d forget things, or just not understand them...but he was five now. Close to the age of reason. And definitely aware of his surroundings enough now to pay attention, and remember things. 

And he knew what death truly meant. 

He clung to Jason for dear life, even as everyone reassured him he was actually ok. Jason himself was conscious, he had been badly hurt but nothing he hadn’t seen before. 

He needed some rest for sure, but it was fine, really. 

It wasn’t fine for Thomas. He yelled, threw the biggest tantrum he ever threw, yelled some more that they should stop. That he didn’t want them to die. That whatever they were doing...He begged them to stop. 

Never before in your life, had any of you witness Thomas being in such a state. He was inconsolable. You couldn’t calm him down, no matter what...

And once more, it’s only because of exhaustion that he finally relaxed. But yet, still in his sleep, he clung to Jason’s sleeve, as if afraid his brother would be gone when he’d wake up. 

It tore yours and Bruce’s heart apart, to see your baby like this. But to be honest...neither of you knew what to do...

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

“Where’s Damian mama ? Where is he ?” 

Thomas was truly panicked. 

The first day, he thought maybe his brother was busy with school and such. The second day, he started to worry. But now ? Three days in a row with Damian not at the dinner table ? Or in his room ? Or in the batcave ?! 

It made Thomas anxious. What happened to his brother ? Was he...was he...DID DEATH TAKE HIM AWAY ? 

“Where’s Dami mama ? Where is he ?!”  Thomas kept asking, crying. And it took you moment to finally realize what your son must’ve thought. When you did, you picked him up and calmed him down, explaining Damian was simply over at Jon’s for a few days... 

And from that day on, you’d make sure to tell him why anyone would be gone for any amount of time. 

That night, Bruce and you talked about what you could do to help Thomas get over his consuming fear of losing one of you. 

But nothing really came to your minds. 

And it was awful, to feel like a failure like that. 

Later on, your Damian would tell you you were NOT failing at parents because you were a little lost about this. After all, none of your other kids got into quite a crisis like this one. He said maybe considering a therapist could do ? But oh, oh Thomas was so little. 

And if words were out that Thomas Wayne, barely five years old, was seeing a therapist ? The scandals would be unending, and would it really help your son ? 

Damian joined in in the search for a way to soothe his baby brother. He never said “no” to cuddles from him, but lately...Lately, Thomas almost became overbearing, as he made sure he’d always sort of have his eyes on everyone. 

And it wasn’t healthy, for such a little boy to worry so much. 

Damian missed his carefree baby brother. He knew he had to eventually grow up, of course, and that he’d have some hardships but...he was just five and a half ! He wasn’t suppose to be so scared of death ! 

And so he thought, nights and days, of a way to soothe him. But just like you and Bruce, this matter was quite delicate...

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

It seemed like Cass was the only one able to truly console him, and make him relax. She would sing him songs, just like you did to her when she felt sad. 

She would tell him tales of Death as a good thing, inspiring herself from many legends from around the world. 

She would try to put perspective on everything, in a way you truly admired. 

She never spoke too much, your Cass...But when she did, every words were carefully chosen and crafted into truly beautiful things. 

And it would soothe your boy. 

But only as long as he was with Cass. And he couldn’t always be with her. 

You didn’t have her talent to tell those tales, and your singing was working only for a few moments to put him to sleep but...you couldn’t always have him sleep. You had to think of more viable options. 

Nonetheless, when Thomas was really too anxious, Cass would be there. 

Relieving everyone of their worry, as she could calm her baby brother in matter of seconds. In those  moments, you wished time could stop. You truly did...

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

Thomas would cling to you and his dad the most. His siblings were often out and about, but you two ? Well you took some time off to be with your youngest son, to be there for him in this odd times...

And you weren’t sure it was such a good idea, in the end. 

He would often just snuggle up to you or Bruce, listening to your heartbeats, which would calm him...You’d normally never say no to hugs from your children. But this was all starting to become so unhealthy for the little one. 

What could you do ? What could you do ?!

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

Duke was panicking. 

Thomas was doing fine today, and Duke felt like he royally fucked up. 

Thomas was worried about Duke, telling him to be careful and that his heart would break if Duke ever died...Which melted Duke’s heart. 

It made him feel so loved and accepted. And he wanted to help little Thomas so much...

That’s when he made a rookie mistake. 

After all, he was still quite new at this “big brother” thing. 

“There are things worst than death.” 

Is what he told him. What was he thinking ? Reflecting on things, Duke realized he didn't think it through. To him, it was a soothing way to say death wasn’t that bad. But...Ah, ah it made Thomas cry. 

“What ? What is worst than not seeing you guys ever again ?!”  

At that moment, Duke hadn’t realized quite yet how much he fucked up. So he said : “Well, my parents can't remember me, can’t remember who they are...They’re not dead, but they’re not here anymore. They’re physically here, but they don’t know me, they don’t know how to hug me, they can’t be my parents anymore...Yet they’re still alive.” 

The horrified look on Thomas’ face is what gave him a hint that this really wasn’t a good thing to say...

“No no no wait Thomas, don’t cry please, I was trying to tell you...Wait Thomas, please, no. Oooh buddy, buddy I’m so sorry.” 

It almost made Duke cry too, to witness the one he considered his little brother in such distress. He wasn’t trained for this ! He wasn’t trained for this !!!

This was the first time Duke truly felt like an older brother, truly felt like he understood this important role. He had to think before saying something. He had to protect his baby brother. He had to find ways to soothe him...

“Ok here we are, here we are everything is a-okay, you’re ok, things will be ok...” 

Duke picked Thomas up, and started to rock him back and forth slowly, just like his own mom did to him...He mixed the way his mom used to put him to sleep, with your soothing singing. With words he borrowed from you. 

“I’m here, I’m here. Don’t worry I’m here, I won’t go anywhere. Things will be ok baby boy, things will be ok. You’re gonna be ok. I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t mean any of it...” 

Duke had been living with you for a while now. He came to see all of you as his second family, even as his parents were still alive, and a constant chain holding him back at times...a chain that broke right at this moment. 

Thomas was his little brother. He truly was. 

And Duke was determined to be there for him. Especially after he made him cry. 

“It’s ok Tommy, cry all you want. It’s ok to cry. It’s ok to cry.” 

You always told him that. It was ok to cry. To be angry. To want to break everything. To want his mom...

But you were his mom too now. You were. And you had such a way with words. Such a soothing touch. Even as he was grown up now, you always knew what to say. You always did. 

“You’re ok, right ? Yeaaaah you’re ok. See, things are fine, we chill, we chill.” 

Duke was slowly swaying from left to right, Thomas in his arm, slowly lulling him to sleep, calming him down. His voice seemed to have the same effect than yours...Because he was calm. And because he meant it.

The love. 

The love he had for this little boy. 

It poured out of him, easily, naturally. 

He loved that kid so much. And he wanted him to be ok. And it seemed like Thomas ? Thomas felt it. He felt the love. Just like Duke felt the love of all of you...

That little bean put himself in such a state at the mere thought of Duke dying, of one of his brother leaving...And Duke. Duke realized he felt the same. 

Couldn’t imagine any of them dying. 

And so he poured love in his every word, and swayed from side to side, calming Thomas, and making sure he knew...He knew that, he was right there. 

Right there. 

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

“You’re getting old, Alfred.” 

You said jokingly, as you beat him at chess. And oh. Oh what a mistake you just did. 

“Old ? I don’t want you to die Alfred, I don’t !” 

Thomas was playing next to you. You hadn’t thought about his “trauma” for a little while as he seemed to feel a little better lately...But oh, he plunged right back into it there. 

Because of you. You felt absolutely awful...

“I’ll fight Death for you Alfred ! I will ! I won’t let her take you !!” 

It took a while, as it became usual now, to calm him down. He was ready to throw hands with Death. Fierce that no one would take his “grandpa”. But he was still very scared and sad...

“I’m a terrible mother...”

You told Bruce that night. And he held you against him, consoling you, saying it wasn’t your fault and that it was just friendly banter with Alfred as usual...

“You are the literal opposite of a terrible mother, my love.”

“But Broosh, I made him- I-” 

You sniff, unable to control your sobs as you remember your poor little boy holding Alfred and yelling at Death she can’t take him. The poor butler himself didn’t even know how he could do anything to calm him down...

“We’ll find a solution my love, we’ll find a solution...” 

This entire night, Bruce stayed up although he was exhausted, so he could soothe you and take care of you. Skipping patrol (knowing though the city was safe with his children out). 

At some point during the night, Thomas came to your room. 

It was often, lately, that after a nightmare he’d come running to you. His nightmares would often be about losing you...

You had finally fallen asleep, in your husband’s arms, and Bruce gestured to your boy to not make too much noice. 

Sweet little Thomas acquiesced, and slowly came to the bed, taking the hand his father gave him. 

Bruce was about to fall asleep too, knowing you had finally found sleep...But now, he wasn’t going to. Not until he made sure his son was asleep as well. 

All he could do for now, was being there for you two. Try to soothe you as best her could. As best he could...

Sleep was restless and full of nightmares. 

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

Dick would try to often visit his parents and siblings. As much as he could, which wasn’t always easy, with his work in Bludhäven. But nothing is more sacred than family...He realized that over the years.

During those moments, it would be rather normal for Thomas to go settle in his oldest brother’s laps. He would make the most of seeing him.

So today, as Dick was in the kitchen trying to make himself a cup of coffee, it was no surprise when little Tommy came to see him.

You had bought a new espresso machine, and Dick had no idea how it worked...Slowly, his littlest brother came in, dragged a chair next to him, and used it to climb on the counter.

He then started to make Dick’s cup of coffee, without much of a word being exchanged. Dick smiled widely, his little bro was so cute and clever. In no time, he had make a great cup of coffee for him.

But...Something seemed to bother him. Tommy was an exuberant child when around his family, but he had been quiet right there. He didn’t jump in his brother’s arms like he usually does, and he wasn’t telling him all about what he missed since last time he came in !

Was it still this all thing about being worried about death ? 

“Are you ok little wing ?”

Ever since Jason, “Little Wing” or “Bird” became the common denomination for his younger siblings. A term of endearment that they all (secretly or not) loved.

Tommy seemed to think a little, while raising his arms, signifying he wanted Dick to pick him up.

Dick did, of course, and they went to sit at the kitchen counter, and as usual, Tommy settled down on Dick’s laps. He turned around and, after another short pause (Dick always knew when to stay silent, and wait for the other person to speak first) said :

“Dickie, are mom and dad not your mom and dad ?” 

“Mm ?” 

“Your real mom and dad, they died ? You can’t see them no more now ?”

There was a lump in Dick’s throat. Not because he thought about his parents no. He actually came to peace with their death long ago now. And though he missed them every day, it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. 

He was lucky to find another loving family...From which that little worried kiddo in front of him was an important part of. 

“Yes, I can’t see them anymore.”

“It hurts ?” 

“It used to. Now less. I miss them, but I wasn’t alone.”

“Because you have our mom and dad ?”

“Yes.” 

Dick ruffles his hair fondly. 

“Do you wish you’d still have your real mom and dad ?”

“Mom and dad ARE my real parents too. I was lucky enough to find new ones. Not everyone is as lucky, like dad. He was alone for a long time” 

“What about Alfred ?” 

“It took dad a while to realize that Alfred was a second father to him” 

“So...Will you be my second dad if dad goes ?” 

Dick feels another lump in his throat. Bigger this time. 

He couldn’t even imagine the day he’ll lose this “second dad”, this one he had now called “dad” for longer even than his own biological father...Dick was 8, when he came into yours and Bruce’s life. 

He spend more  years with you two than with his “real” parents. You never replaced them, no. You just..became his parents too. 

He would never forget his biological parents. But he would never diminish the impact his adoptive one had. The love you and Bruce gave him. 

Would he be good enough to be Thomas “second dad” ? After all, he currently had about the age Bruce had when he adopted him...

But Dick couldn’t imagine losing Bruce too. Losing another father. No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. 

Thomas was already moving on, asking more questions : 

“Will I find another mom and dad too if mom and dad die ? Or will I be alone like dad ? Will I have Alfred forever ?”

“I-I don’t know buddy.”

“What if I lose all of you at the same time ? I will be all alone then.” 

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do ?” 

“I’ll always be there.” 

“You can’t know that, can you ?” 

“Maybe, but this will never happen. You will never be alone.” 

“You really think so ?”

“I Do. And I promise little wing, I promise...You won’t lose all of us. You won’t.” 

Dick held his brother even tighter against him, and missed the unconvinced expression on Thomas’ face. 

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

Your youngest son was still utterly terrified of losing any of you. But his terrible fit would pass now, he would calm down more easily, and wouldn’t cry until exhaustion...But it didn’t mean he wasn't afraid anymore. 

Unfortunately. 

“Death” was still a constant on his mind. One of the biggest question. Without much answers. 

His mother and father said no one knew what happened after “death”, but Thomas wasn’t convinced. So he went to the only one he knew would tell him the truth, and was most likely to know...Tim.

His older brother was currently in the garden, studying for his finals. But oh he’d take a break for his little brother, of course. 

Especially lately, as said little brother was overly worried and needed constant reassurance. 

“Hi Timmy.” 

“Hey little one.” 

“Bothering you ?”

“You are not bothering me, never.” 

“Can I ask you a question then ?”

“Of course.” 

“What happens when we die ?” 

Oof. 

OOOOF. 

Not something Tim could say he expected to be asked. Even as he knew Thomas was sort of obsessed with this lately. And ah...Ah he started to get lost into physiological effects of death, into science, into things Thomas could definitely not understand...

And into things he didn’t care about. 

Thomas had no interest in knowing what happens to the corporeal side of things. To our bodies. He wanted to know where “we” went. Where the being went. The conscience. 

Of course he wouldn’t word it that way, but it was easy to understand that it was what he meant when he said : “where do we go when we die ?”. 

After a long time of Tim getting lost in many complex explanations about decomposition (what the Hell Tim ?), he finally stopped as he saw that Thomas was most definitely lost.  

“Where do we go after we die ?” 

“Yes. What happens ? You must know, you know everything !” 

The faith his littlest brother put in him made him feel warm inside but...unfortunately on this subject he had to disappoint him. 

“I..I don’t know about this, actually.” 

Thomas looked crestfallen. Was nothing sacred anymore ?? Death existed, and the one he thought would always have a solution to everything didn’t know something that important !! 

“There’s many theories.” 

“What’s a theories ?”

“One theory, multiple theories. A theory is...an idea of how things might work.” 

“What are the theory ?” 

“Theories, plural.” 

“What are the theories ?” 

“Well. Some people think that you go into some kind of afterlife. It depends the culture, and the religion, and...many other factors. But there’s usually a few places we can end up.” 

“And we’ll see the people who died there ? We’ll see them again ?” 

“Supposedly so.” 

“Is it sure ?”

“No, it’s just a theory.” 

“You said a theory is an idea of how things might work.” 

“An idea that might not be proven.” 

“What’s the point then ?” 

“Theorizing.” 

“I don’t understand...”

Of course he didn’t, he was a smart little boy...But still just five. Tim sat down to his level, and looked at him in the eyes : 

“Well. You have to understand that um...No one knows what happens after death. So we have to make theories, things that might or might not be. You understand ?” 

“No.” 

“Well, since we don’t know, we make things up. But maybe those things are right. Maybe they aren’t.” 

“So the answer is we don't know ?” 

“Yes. But there are theories ?” 

“Ok. So aside from the place we see others again, what are the theories ?” 

“Well (...)” 

Tim was a patient boy. For hours and hours, he tried to explain every single “theory” people might’ve had about what happens after Death. And Thomas listened carefully. 

Finally, Tim was done, and his brother said : 

“So...No one really knows, and there’s a lot of theory...ies. Theories.” 

“Basically.” 

Thomas looked so discouraged. Tim was very well aware that none of what he told him really helped his brother, or reassured him...But ah. Tim was known to not lie. Which was a good thing. And he couldn’t possibly have a free conscience if he had told his brother just one theory of the after life, the nicest one, just to reassure him. 

Of course, he wanted to reassure him. To distract him. But he would do so another way. Lying to him was not it. 

Still, it was so disheartening to see this sweet little boy so crestfallen. 

“Um, Well...I guess some people know.”

Thomas looked up at his brother, hopeful, waiting for him to continue. 

“Like Constantine. But um, he’s sort of crazy. And dad doesn't want him around the house for...reasons you’ll understand when you’ll grow up. And-”

Ah but Thomas wasn’t listening to Tim anymore, and his monologue as to why maybe John Constantine wasn’t such a reliable source.   

“Constantine” huh ? Interesting. Ah. Sometimes, Tim forgot how smart his little brother truly was...for a five years old. And how he took after his father, when it came to memory and attention to details. 

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

This constant worry went on for quite just a few days. A few very eventful days, that were so...exhausting. Thomas was constantly scared for your lives, and would cry if anyone got hurt too much. 

He would follow you around, and be way too stressed for such a little bean. 

Everyone came to hide their injuries from him, tried to distract him from what they were doing when out as the Bats...But it was becoming a real problem. 

How ? How could they make a little five years old understand that he couldn’t forever be afraid of death ? It was impossible. None of you, not even you, had the right words. There were no right words anyway. 

You could tell him whatever you wanted, it’d never make him stop thinking about Death taking one of you with her, taking one of you far away from him. 

“A place he cannot follow you to.” 

How ? How could you help ?!

But the change had to come from within him, you would soon realize. 

About a week after Ace’s death, and a truly painful few days of everyone being lost and unable to help the baby of the family... he suddenly spoke up, at dinner time : 

“Mama, mama, if one day you die, I will bring you back. I promise. Same for daddy, and Dick, and Jason, and Cass, and Tim, and Duke, and Damian, and Alfred. I don’t know if we can bring dogs back, but humans yes ? And worst case scenario, I’ll conjure your spirit so I can say goodbye, and then I’ll know we’ll see each others again !”

“Wh-What ?” 

“Stunned” doesn’t quite cover how you felt at your son’s sudden tirade, at dinner that night. Everyone was here, a rare occasion. Your one dinner a months that was mandatory for all your kids ! To make sure you’d all have moments together. 

And boom. Came this monologue out of nowhere, from your small little five and a half years old son. 

Stunned. Not a strong word enough to describe you, or your other children. 

But Bruce. Oh Bruce. Bruce was frowning. Narrowing his eyes in a way you knew perfectly well...It meant he was angry at someone. 

“Who told you all this, son ?” 

“Mister Constantine.”

A growl. A scary growl. From deep within your husband’s throat. You would NOT want to be John next time he’d see 

“How did you talk to him ?” 

“I used your phone.” 

“I don’t have his number on my...Wait, the bat phone ?!” 

“Yes. The one you call uncle Clark on !”

“What the-...how did you-ugh ?!” 

There were so many questions. So many. 

“I copied what you do, on the phone. And I asked it if it could call the Constantine.” 

“The Constantine”, this better not be a stupid way he called himself in front of his son, Bruce thought. Ah, and curse the fact he kept having kids that were too damn smart for their own good ! 

Kids this days. Growing up with technology. Able to work a batphobe at age 5 and a half !! 

“Hope I helped little man - John Constantine”, said the note that came to the manor a few days later. Which made Bruce fume with rage, but Thomas beam happily. 

Bruce was already planning to go after John, and force him to say what he told his son. But...But...

To be honest. Whatever he said. You didn’t care. You knew, more than anyone else, that “Death” wasn’t as definitive as it sounded at times. And you knew for certain there was something after you died. What ? You couldn’t be sure. But something. Another place. Or maybe reincarnation ? Who knew. 

Deep in your heart though, you knew that no matter what, if you ever were to die...You’d see your family again. You weren’t sure how or where. It was just a certainty in your heart. A gut feeling. 

Yes. You didn’t care what John told your son. If it could help him accept that everyone will die one day. Didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of losing you anymore. Oh no. But at least...At least he knew worrying about it lead nowhere. And to truly enjoy the moments of the present. 

Whatever John said, it helped your son. That’s all that mattered. And as Thomas would grow up, you knew he’d understand things more and more. 

He already knew he was luckier than many people. He had a loving family. They were all there with him for now (minus Ace, whom he missed every day). A lot of people couldn’t say the same thing. 

Death was an odd thing. Especially in the World you lived in. 

It wasn’t as definitive as some would say.

Your family knew that more than anyone else.  

Death was an odd thing, that wasn’t always the ultimate end...

This, one day, Thomas would truly understand. 

The end 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). Just a quick thing again, my bigger story (fake boyfriend trope with Bruce hehe) is coming soon. But in the mean time, felt compelled to write about this. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and liked it ? Not my best work :/, another quick drabble written very late at night eh. But nonetheless, fun to write ? Hope it’s not a disappointment, it’s just a thing to make ya wait for a more elaborate thing that I took a lot of care writing. Anyway it’s 4 am, time for bed :).

If you did, don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback or/and to reblog :). If you didn’t as well really, it’s always good to know what’s not good so I can improve (just stay civil please). 

PS : Bonus point if you get where I’m trying to arrive at with those last few words about how definitive death is :p. 

[hobipaint]

Graffiti and Chalk - one.

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, eventual fluff?

↳ word count: 4.7K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of attempted murder.

one | two

a/n: this was supposed to be a one shot, but i decided to make it a two shot because inspiration struck at the twelfth hour. This is based on stigma tae, and has massive massive references to hyyh tae as well!! I'm warning you all. Written for the @bangtanwritingbingo prompt: chalk drawings. Beta read by @vaekth and @kookiestarlight who are possibly the most supportive and appreciative people I could have asked for, thank you so much!!

You'd thought that being an officer would mean solving cases for people who genuinely needed help. Not hunting around for a missing pumpkin. 

"It's round, large, and I think it was slightly squishy, Y/N," the kid who had run up to you exclaimed again, while making gestures for round, large and squishy. 

If the kid weren't this adorable, you'd squish him for being too loud at 8 in the morning. 

You unlocked the door to your office, taking in the sight of the homey little cubicle that you maintained alone. Being the sole officer in a neighbourhood should be hard work, but in a neighbourhood where practically everybody is asleep? Not as much. 

You sighed as you pulled the kid in - who by now had told you that his name was Sungwoo, and he was eight years old. His mother told him that if he ever lost anything precious he should head to the police, so here he was. 

"Can you find my pumpkin?" He peered up at you as you tried to get the coffee machine started- well, as well as you can with a kid in the way. "It's round, large and squishy." 

"Round, large, squishy. Got it." You smiled wearily at him, seeing how his eyes lit up at the sight of your notebook- the one he obviously thought you wrote your cases in. You took your espresso in a mug, running over to him before he damaged it. He ran over to it, picking it up, dropping it because of its weight and picking it up again. 

"Can you write a message for Peter here?" He asked you, eyes wide and round as he stared at the brown leather bound book. 

"Peter? I thought we were talking about your pumpkin?" 

He nodded vigorously- strong enough to make you worry if his head would fall over. Flopping his hair to the side messily, he scampered to you as you settled in your chair, opening the last page of your book - where you had kept your post-its. "Peter is pumpkin! It's made of something- mom told me-" he put a hand to his head, trying to force his small head to think of big words, "Is it pushy?" 

"Do you mean it is a plushie, Sungwoo?" You said, sighing and writing it down on a post-it note and sticking it on your desk. 

"Yeah!" His eyes sparkled, and he bent his head down to the paper you gave him to scribble a hasty note for Peter. Once satisfied, he raised his head, giving the chit two pats before turning to you. "It's missing, Y/N. Can you find it?"

"Of course I can," you reassured him the best you could while half-asleep. The boy suddenly pulled you into a hug, happy tears spilling out of his eyes as he murmured thank you's over and over. 

You held him for a few more seconds, understanding the worry that the kid would have over his plushie. You didn't understand why he had to bring it to you, though. 

You felt a soft yet insistent buzz in your pant pockets all of a sudden, realizing it was your phone. You pulled yourself away from the crying child, and caressed his head while picking up the call. 

"Good morning, Officer L/N." The coarse voice of your chief barked at you. 

You sighed, not wanting to deal with any of his tantrums right after you dealt with the case of Peter the Pumpkin. "Good morning, Chief." 

"I'm arriving at your office in about ten minutes. We have to discuss something important." 

You sighed again, hand grabbing Sungwoo's as you led him outside the office. Time to clean up. "Of course, Sir."

"Why is this place so messy?" was the first thing you had to hear in the form of a greeting. When your chief said ten minutes, he clearly meant half an hour.

You'd spent some time clearing up cookie crumbs from your table, dusting any evidence of your multiple ramen packets, arranging the tables in proper order, lining the chairs up, and stuffing all the stuff you couldn't clear into a closet. It seemed clean enough to you.

"I shall clean it, Sir." You bowed your head once, carefully maintaining your expression so that the chief doesn't think of you as any more insolent than he already does. 

"It doesn't reflect well upon the force to have a messy office, Y/N. I'm sure you were taught that," he said, pressing his finger to a certain spot on a table, and raising it up to show you. "Dust in our offices speaks of nonchalance. That is the last thing we'd want anyone to think of us is that we're nonchalant."

"I apologise, sir. I shall rectify it." 

"I expect you to. Anyways," he said, dusting his hands and moving to another corner of the office, "that is not what I came here for." He settled into the chair-  your chair, with the note for Peter the Pumpkin intact.

You prayed for him to ignore it. 

"There's been growing signs of vandalism in the neighbourhood you're patrolling, Y/N," The chief said to you in a gruff tone, looking like an angry cat with his whiskers trembling. He wore a scowl to match the whole look. Luckily, his pondering eyes missed out on the missing pumpkin report. "I want you to catch that person. Why isn't it done yet?"

"They were untraceable, Sir. All we could capture was a navy blue hoodie and jeans. Nothing else. There's only graffiti and chalk all over the places he's been at, Sir. I tried looking for clues-" 

"Keep looking, then."

"I'm trying, sir. I have asked the owners of all the shops on the street to hand over any CCTV footage they have of the person so that I can analyze it and try to nab him. It is a futile task till now, though." 

The chief rubbed his hand hard on his thigh, the sound of his palm scratching against the coarse trouser fabric reaching you. "They are being a menace, Y/N. A nuisance to those who want peace in this neighbourhood. You are supposed to bring that peace for them, not complain about not being able to get that person. That is your job." He looked you directly in the eye, anger clearly visible. "Or would you wish to leave?"

You twitched in anger, forcing yourself to remain calm. The chief had a penchant for transferring those who were unsuccessful in their cases to different stations- the more transfers, the more incompetent you seemed. You had already begun at a relatively low level, and you couldn't afford going lower. You nodded stiffly. 

"Any more complaints, and I'd be forced to transfer you somewhere else and hand this case over to someone competent. And you know it wouldn't be safe for your career, Y/N." He rose up from the chair, heading towards the door. "I want it resolved. Soon." 

You bowed your head, in a sense of respect for your senior you'd actually never felt. It was annoying, honestly, and your hatred for this man just grew more and more. You had requested since the day of your graduation from the academy to be put in the forensics department - something that actually was your specialty. But no, here you were, patrolling a neighbourhood where the only problem was a kid scribbling on walls and leaving an alphabet behind. 

V.

Taehyung kicked a pebble aside, letting it roll aimlessly along the half-paved, half-broken road. "I'm out of green paint, again." 

He glanced at the aluminium shutters he had decided to vandalize- no, beautify- today, deciding that the subtle decor of the florist's shop and the grim outside of the tattoo shop - both needed redecorations. He didn't care who was the owner. He didn't care how many reports they filed about the eerie similarities of the vandal to Mrs. Kim's son - they never cared about him before, so they'd never care about him now. That, he was sure of. 

His red paint had been used to make the outer petals of a rose that he had dedicatedly been drawing the previous day, until the owner had yelled from his house above for him to stop. That was early, though. 11 AM was a predictable time for a vandal to walk through the streets, spraying graffiti and dusting chalk over every nook and corner until he was satisfied by the art he had created. 

His wristwatch ticked three as he picked up his blue paint can. Just a few hours later, but effective enough for the owner to have fallen asleep - Taehyung could definitely justify that by the snores that echoed behind the shutters. 

"Reporting. Reporting. Vandal. Street 13. I repeat. Vandal. Street 13." 

The cuckoo clock that your mom had gifted you to decorate the less than neat office struck three just when the report came through. Just when you were about to settle for the night.

You pushed your papers aside, leaving the missing car complaint on your table. Holding your baton, slipping your ID into the pocket of your jeans and dusting crumbs off your chiffon blouse, you picked up the radio. 

"Street 13. Officer Y/N reporting." 

The gruff voice of your chief growled back at you. "The vandal has been found on camera, finally. The florist's CCTV; he sent a complaint. In fact, he's been wandering the streets for half an hour now, Y/N. Where have you been?" 

You were about to form a legible enough response, say that the paperwork he had set for you was what consumed your time, but he beat you to it. Sighing into the phone, he said, "Nevermind that. Get to his location immediately, and capture him." His voice stumbled for a second. "Take the taser, just in case." 

"Yes sir," you responded meekly, and disconnected the radio. 

You looked around for your keys, going past a board full of cases that were never relevant enough to be solved - especially the one of the missing pumpkin. The types of cases you received here made you shudder, this wasn't why you had spent so much time training at the university. You tucked your radio into your jacket as you pushed it on your shoulders, grabbing onto a half-eaten sandwich to satisfy your hunger along the way.

"I have to get that person before he robs me of a chance at the forensics department forever," you thought while speeding towards the location told to you - while maintaining the speed limit, of course. No space for nonchalance. 

You'd wanted to finish all your paperwork today and get back to an analysis you were working on - preferably get a nap too. Capturing a neighbourhood graffiti artist- this isn't what you had wanted to do.

This wasn't what Taehyung had wanted to do. 

The paint dried off slowly on the metal surface, a small drop of ink trickling down where Taehyung had stopped. The design wasn't matching what he had thought at all, he thought as he stared at it. Time to switch it up. 

He picked up the painting from right where he had stopped it - merging blue into the red petals as he was on his way to the centre of the flower. Painstakingly, he traced lines that would capture the delicate curves of the outlines, serving to further merge into the picture. 

His vandalism wasn't ugly drawings, nudity, or someone just spraying 'SUCKAZ!' all over a wall. That is for amateurs. His was nuanced art. Art that he couldn't do in the day. The ones he could never showcase in the galleries. The ones he buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, burning a hole into the boxes he stuffed them into. This was his freedom. 

Taehyung picked up the black can. Fixing the nozzle in the proper direction, he shook the bottle- once, twice. The paint came out in spurts at first, before settling into a steady spray. Black always enhances everything, doesn't it? Enhancement that never seemed beautiful - it was just there to make it stand out. Be noticed. Be shamed. Be suspected. Look deadly, or even look dead. Even the most innocent faces look devious with black. What's to say his flower would still look alive? 

The black slowly spiralled across the expanse of the shutter, coiling over and over in what Taehyung thought could be the leaves. The thorns that held the flower back from reaching the epitome of beauty- at least, outwardly beauty. He detested how overhyped a rose was- just as destructible as all other flowers. Where's the beauty in something temporary? 

The green paint can had been used up last time when he had sprayed ivy all over the fashion boutique's doors- all of which had been washed away. A shame, Taehyung thought, and picked up his airbrush. Filling a little green into the small holder, he tested it a few times on the footpath - he'd scrub chalk all over it later on, he still needed to add more to beautify the shops. He carefully painted leaves all over the black he had sprayed, letting them flatten out against the metal at the back and form a protective layer around the rose. Unnecessary by all means. 

He then switched to a darker green, picking up the airbrush once again to add some subtlety in the leaves. He watched the spray slowly settle right where he wanted it - paint, unlike his life, was something he had full control of. It was liberating. 

Standing back and twirling the can over and over in his hand, Taehyung was somewhat satisfied with what he made. A rose. Simple, overrated. Just like flowers. The leaves stood out more to him, along with the thorns; their prickly points being the focus of the picture. Perfect. 

He picked up his personal favorite - a small can of black paint who's nozzle had been crafted by him. Stooping down to the corner of the shutter, he slowly sprayed across it. Black settling on silver gray, one single alphabet. V. 

That's it. He was done. Just an hour's work. 

He turned to the tattoo artist's shop, the shutter a colourful mess littered with messy black stains and drawings the owner probably thought was hip. Taehyung cringed. How was it possible for an artist to be that bad at decorating their own shop? He walked a few steps back, admiring the size of it and thinking of what he could fill there. Something that would really annoy a tattoo artist- he deserved it after having ruined the shutter like that. Picking up a blade, Taehyung set to scrape away the skulls- which, he found, were stickers. Gross. Peeling them off, he set to chip away at the paint- the soft thunk, thunk of the blade slapping against the metal echoed around him. Hopefully, not too loud. 

The metal loudly protested as Taehyung pressed his blade against what seemed to be an outline of a body, done with black, and some random inscriptions that he could notice were wearing away. This had to be really old. 

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The blade kept pushing at the layers of colour, forcing them off the metal. He could see glints of silver shining underneath it, dim under the streetlight.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. He kept pushing at the paint, tongue poking out as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He had to do it now. There was no other time for him to do this. Now. Now. Now. 

The silver suddenly glinted more brightly- a shade impossible under the dull, flickering yellow of the streetlights. White lights created a halo of sorts around him, and Taehyung knew his time was up. He smiled. At least one place got the beauty they deserved. 

"Hands up!" A voice yelled behind him, and he could hear a click that definitely sounded like a taser gun. 

Looking up, he cursed loudly at everyone and anyone. He could have finished it tonight. His work would have been done, and he would have been on his way. He turned around, annoyance sparking in his eyes with sarcastic acceptance lining his lips in the way they curled. "You found me," he murmured, before letting himself get slammed against the very shutters he was painting.

Fate played wonderful games, and for now, you were its newest loser. 

"Name." You spoke, your voice monotone yet clear. 

"You know me, Y/N. Don't pretend you don't." Taehyung crooned, smirking while he rotated the glass that rested atop the table. 

Your annoyance only grew. When you were told that there was a vandal in the streets, you didn't expect it to be a familiar face. 

Kim Taehyung was known to you. Someone who had lived right next door. Someone who had been known as a lovable, obedient boy by the neighbours- you still remembered how your mother would gush about him. Someone you knew, and once, cared for. 

Someone who was later only known as the kid who flung a bottle on his stepfather's face and was sentenced for five years - which, in fact, was a misjudgement. He was innocent, and the video of him attacking the man was manipulated. Fake. Edited. Whatever you chose wouldn't be enough to change anything in the past. 

Taehyung had come out of jail a changed man, weeping openly in the streets when he heard of his family's fate- what he had heard, though, was something you were unaware of. Two years had since passed, and you no longer heard your mother talking about the Kim's boy. He had simply vanished, for you. No traces anywhere. 

But here he was. Kim Taehyung. Alive, breathing. Smirking. And spinning a glass over and over. 

"Give that to me." You said, snatching the glass away from him and keeping it aside. Settling into your chair, you pulled your laptop closer once again, mustering the most serious look you can. "I'm not playing around, Taehyung. Talk properly. Behave. You're already in a rough spot." 

Taehyung laughed; a mirthless, almost painful laughter. "I can't see how anything can be bad here, officer. With all due respect, of course." He straightened up, still keeping that smirk on his face.

You exhaled your breath slowly, holding back all the words you wanted to hurl at him. "Name?"

"Kim Taehyung."

You typed it in, feeling the way each letter pad was pushed down before you moved over it- momentary, but fulfilling. "Age."

"As of today, 25." 

"Job."

"Nothing. Add the official vandal of Street 13 if you want." 

You raised an eyebrow, fingers abruptly coming to a stop. "Behave." 

"No job, officer." Taehyung said, settling further ahead in his seat and pausing, before speaking again. "Why do you need this though? I already have a criminal record, don't I?" 

You turned your face to him, the sudden change in light exposure hurting your eyes. The hurt they felt couldn't possibly fathom the depths of pain you saw churning in Taehyung's eyes, like pits of fire. They were seemingly blank,  but you had known him. Known him long enough to know that this wasn't who he used to be. This wasn't him. 

"Once you were proven innocent, your record was wiped clean. The manipulators were given the charges that you had." You looked at him while saying this, trying to notice any emotions that would make way to his face. None. No twitching lips, no annoyance in his eyebrows. Just his eyes that seethed anger. "Family?" 

"None." 

You raised an eyebrow. "None?"

Taehyung groaned, getting up from the chair and turning around, hands on his waist. "Don't make me repeat all that shit again. You know it, Y/N." 

"Sit back down, Taehyung." You said, irritated by his tantrums. It was four in the morning, for God's sake. You didn't have the energy to deal with him. "I need details if you want to get out of this without any charges." 

"Dead. Most of them. Those who aren't, disowned me as soon as I got into jail. Something about not wanting to be related to a criminal." He said lowly, a gruff tone to his voice as he spoke the last words. 

You hummed lowly, not knowing what to say. How do you possibly respond to something like this? You weren't trained for interrogation at university. You specialized in forensics. This wasn't supposed to be your job. 

"I'm sorry that happened, Taehyung." You managed after a few moments of silence. 

"Don't be." He shrugged, then looked up. "You don't mean it." 

"I still need a reason as to why you are destroying the places around here with your graffiti and chalk drawings, Taehyung." You ignored him and continued, rising from your chair to let your sore limbs relax. "Unfortunately, I can't let you leave till you give me a reason." 

Taehyung stayed mum, much to your annoyance. 

You slammed your hand on the table, a loud slap that stung your hand, but also Taehyung's ears, it seemed. "Reasons. Now."

"I just wanted to." 

"Wanted to? So you were voluntarily damaging someone else's property?" 

He raised his head to look at you; once, twice. Then with a resigned sigh, he responded. "Yeah. But I was beautifying it." 

"A beautification they never asked for?" You said, as Taehyung groaned behind you. 

"No one gives a damn, Y/N-" 

"The police do." You say, preparing to send a message to your chief over the radio. "Got him." 

"The police didn't care when I was innocent in that case, Y/N. Stop pretending like they'll care for me when I'm actually guilty of something." 

"That case was mishandled."

"Yeah, Y/N. It was mishandled. But only for you." You turned to him, shocked at the venom that suddenly laced his voice. 

In the few seconds that you had turned away from him, his eyes had turned bloodshot. Red rimmed the remaining white of his eyes. "You wouldn't know what it is to be locked up for harming people you loved, Y/N. You wouldn't understand that pain," he murmured, loud enough for you to hear him in the echoes of the office. 

You wanted to scream at him. Tell him how he had hurt you. Remind him of all the things you had forced yourself to forget over seven years. The way your heart still hurt for him. 

"You're right. I won't understand. So sit here, and explain yourself." You pulled your chair back, seating yourself in it and gazing up at him expectantly. 

He was just staring at you- you couldn't say whether his gaze held expectations or disdain. Then, shaking his head, "You're still just as stubborn, aren't you," he said, softly smiling as he slipped into his chair. "Adamant, and so, so confusing."

"You don't know me anymore, Taehyung. Don't pretend. Anyways," you said, turning to your laptop again. "I need-"

"No." He stood up once again- why was he standing? "Answer me, now." 

He rested his arms on the table, chest leaning forward to balance himself- and now, you could see the changes he had brought in himself. In place of lean muscle there were defined biceps you could see being flexed. In place of short hair was curly locks that fell until his crown, now hanging over. In place of a cheeky grin that sent your blood rushing to your cheeks was a pair of lips, set tight in one line that sent chills down your spine. There was warmth to him, yes, but it was different. This wasn't the Taehyung you knew. 

"You knew that I was back." Your eyes moved back to look into his. And you noticed more changes. Instead of a carefree twinkle, there was dark, brooding black filling his pupils. "You knew. I'd seen you that night." 

The night when you had seen him falling to his knees, soaking himself in the rain as he gave his tears as a tribute to the gushing skies. The night he returned. The night you thought he didn't know you. 

"I'd seen you after that as well. That day at the convenience store, I'd seen you buying candies. You still buy the same kind, don't you? Lemon flavoured." 

The night you gave up on your dreams to become an analyst in the forensic lab for the police. The night where you stared up to question everything you did as your feet soaked in the snow. Two years ago. The night he thought he knew you. 

"You're hurting me by not remembering us, Y/N." 

"We were nothing to begin with." You cleared your throat, settling further back into your chair. "You asked me on a date, and stood me up. We're nothing. Absolutely nothing." 

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak again, but leaned back, standing tall, straight. You almost missed his warmth - no. This wasn't the warmth of a person you had cared for. 

"It's so cold outside, Y/N, why haven't you turned on the heater?" Your chief's voice filled the room after a few minutes of absolute silence. Taehyung had taken to leaning on the wall, now, maintaining an anxious distance. "Did you get the man?"

You simply pointed towards Taehyung, watching the chief's face flash with recognition, brows hastily furrowing as a frown formed on his face.

"Kim Taehyung?" Your chief asked, coming up to the two of you. "Is it really you? Are you the vandal?"

Taehyung remained silent, head hung. 

The chief inhaled, then exhaled; loud enough for you to hear him - "It is you, isn't it. What happened after the attempted murder case?" 

"Proven false, Sir." You informed your superior. For some odd reason, you felt like you had to come to Taehyung's defense. 

"I am aware of that, Y/N." The chief said, looking Taehyung up and down. As reported, he was in the navy blue sweatshirt and ripped jeans- and you could see in the clear light of your office that he had ripped the holes into them himself. Something he did before to look fashionable, he used to say. 

"I don't really want to put any charges on you, Taehyung. Why did you do it?"

Taehyung spoke, voice gravelly. "It was liberating, Sir." 

"You broke the law, though." 

"The law broke me, Sir." 

The chief took another deep breath and settled onto the chair where Taehyung was sitting just a few moments ago. His wrinkled skin seemed to age even more. Taehyung was close with the chief as a student, that you knew- you had seen him going multiple times to his office to get clarifications after class. You wondered how the chief felt - did he feel the same sting of recognition you had felt? 

"I don't want you to get any charges, Taehyung," he said, before laughing and adding, "all these years, and I still have my student in my head." 

He stood up and turned to face Taehyung again, worry reflecting in his eyes as he held him by the shoulders. "You're still the Taehyung I know, right?" 

Taehyung looked away, down, his face coming in your line of vision - you could see the small rivulets that flowed from the pool of emotions in his eye, down the lines that worry, anger and disbelief had formed on his face. Sniffing softly, he turned back to the chief. "Yes, Sir." 

The chief visibly relaxed, his arms coming down to his sleeves, gripping Taehyung. "Good. I hope it remains that way." 

He returned to his stern stance, and faced you. "I suggest you keep him here for the night, Y/N." he looked outside, the sky just turning sapphire. "I shall return in the morning to talk. Get some rest while you're at it. And Taehyung? Eat something." 

The chief swiftly departed the office, and Taehyung slumped into the chair. "Seven years, and the old man still remembers me," he laughed mirthlessly, lips twisting in an amused smile. "Always appreciated him." 

"And so did he," you mentioned. Taehyung was always brought up as a comparison for your batch of officers to emulate. Even when he was in jail, he was remembered among you as a diligent student and worker. "'Remember his good', he used to say. He always remembered you."

"And you?" He suddenly looked at you. His eyes were no longer bloodshot - there were small remnants of anger, but all you could see was wistfulness. "Did you remember me, Y/N?" 

a/n: yup, I stopped there. Do leave some feedback if you liked it- in the comments, or as an ask! Also, if you wish to be tagged for the next part, you can ask for that too! Thank you for giving your time to this fic,, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! love, hazel💞

masterlist

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: epilogue Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, heavy mentions of abortion, and brief mentions of trauma

notes:

we’ve finally reached it guys! the end :”> this story has been one of the things i’m very much proud of. From this chapter onwards, it’s all just fluff and well Atsumu and Y/N content. thank you for sticking around despite the slow burns and see you on the side stories and the drabbles. ill be accepting eight drabbles for this story and it’ll be open after all the side stories are complete, uwu.

previous    masterlist  [ ss;; one, two, three, four ]

“...I wonder how you put them to bed.”

“They usually sleep immediately after I give them a glass of milk.” You blinked, looking up from your paperwork, “Did they give you a hard time again?”

“They chunked a pillow at me and that started a pillow fight.”

Soft laughter filled the room and Atsumu felt his heart soften at the sound of that, such a beautiful laugh you had. 

It’s been a year since that confrontation but it feels so surreal whenever he wakes up to see you lying next to him, snuggled on his chest or the kids suddenly barging into the room to catapult themselves to bed with you two.

Him, you, children. 

A family.

“Are you not going to sleep yet?”

“No,” You breathed, shifting through paper works,“I have to finish this if I want to watch your game next week.”

“Can I lay on your lap then?”

“We have a very big bed.” You deadpanned, you were still stoic and blank as ever but comparing to before, you were more open to him with your emotions and thoughts. Albeit, he didn’t know much about why you ran away -  Daiki says to give you some time -  or what happened with your family, he doesn’t mind because he promised he’d wait and be patient with you. 

Atsumu even suggests that if you can’t talk to him about it, he’d willingly look for good psychiatrists around the area to help with your trauma. The sessions seem to be going well so far, albeit it was slow, you were finally taking the proper steps to heal.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Atsumu grinned childishly and situated himself on your lap. Unknowingly, you’d start playing with his hair. He suddenly feels like he’s about to doze off by the domestic gesture and the familiar sound of your breathing but he is immediately awoken by the small voice of yours.

“Do you want to know why I never introduced you to my family?” you suddenly asked, his eyes slowly turned towards you yet you continue to play with his hair nonchalantly as if you weren’t talking about a heavy topic, “Our situation was a lot like my parents. I was born when my okaasan was in the middle of studying medicine and my otosan was a law student.”

Atsumu remains quiet as he listens to your story.

“They were both from very rich families with promising futures, they dated, they were happy until I happened…” You paused, continuing to play with his hair, “Okaasan wasn’t able to finish her course and she got depressed because of that, her family had turned her back on her. So she begged otosan to marry her even if he didn’t want to so that she could finish her degree and return to her family.”

You continue your story; telling him everything about how your father fell out of love with your mother, how scared you were of your mother growing up, how she quit being a doctor because she was an alcoholic and almost sued for drinking on the job, and how you came to the realization that you weren’t supposed to be born when you were only eight years old, “...that night we met at the frat party was the day of my otosan’s wedding to his mistress, they had called out how the previous wedding and me was a mistake as a joke but it still kind of stinged.” You confessed, “I didn’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t met you that night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, comforting even and it made you smile because despite his rather loud attitude, he understood you very well and was very patient with you.

He’s empathetic and it makes you wonder why you even ran away in the first place, maybe Daiki was right that night seven years ago, maybe you should’ve told him and stayed with him.

“Whenever I was with you back then, you didn’t make me feel that way so I didn’t want to spoil it or destroy that feeling. I didn’t want you to see me in that light.” You divulged, recalling the memories you had with him, “I felt like I was supposed to be there with you. You were a reminder that it was alright to be alive. That I wasn’t a mistake.”

Comfortable silence fills the air as he takes it all in.

Atsumu takes a hold of your hand that’s playing with his hair and gives it a comforting peck, “Was that also why you couldn’t tell me back then that you were pregnant?”

“You were being scouted for the jackals that time and I was scared we’d end up like my parents because I disrupted your dreams.” You ran your hands through his hair again, playing with the blonde strands, “I didn’t want the kids yet at the same time I couldn’t abort them because they were yours.It was very confusing.” 

“Would you...Would you have pushed through with it? With the abortion?”

“Probably.” you blinked, recalling that moment you were at the clinic,you recalled the feeling of nervousness as you waited for them to call your name,  “With the past I had, I doubt I would’ve made a good mother. Would you have hated me if I had done it?”

“No. I don’t think I would.I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love those brats, I love this family but at the end of the day, it would’ve been your choice.” He replies softly, drawing small circles on your hands, “It would’ve been better if you went up to me and told me though, at least I would’ve been there.”

“Well, in the end, I didn’t push through. I couldn’t do it. They were yours as much as they were mine and I couldn’t let that go after breaking off with you.” you paused, “I also told myself that they’d never feel that way, that they’d never feel as if they were born out of a mistake.”

“And you did a damn good job at it.” He complimented, “You placed your own okaasan to shame.” 

“You placed my otosan to shame too…” You smiled softly, suddenly a question popped in your head, you might as well ask it now since the timing seemed to be better than ever, “Would you like to get married?”

Atsumu’s eyes immediately widen at what you said and he sits up, “What the hell, Y/N? I should be the one asking that!” He loudly exclaims and you cover his mouth to muffle his voice.

“The kids are asleep.” You choke back a laughter, shushing him, “And I think it should be me the one who should ask for your hand, after all the shit I put you through-”

The blonde setter takes your hands off his mouth and cuts you off, “First of all, that was my choice. Second of all, how many times do I have to tell you that we were both at fault there? We’re doing a damn good job now. Mind you,” he immediately scrambles out of the bed right after before you could say anything else and looks through his sock dresser, he takes out a small box and your eyes widen, is that what you thought it was?

“I was supposed to give it to you when I officially got in the jackals back then.” Atsumu sheepishly confessed, “I couldn’t throw it away after you left, it was the little hope I guess that you’d come back. I mean, I’ll get you a new one now since i got-”

“I didn’t think you were the sappy type.” You glazed, cutting him off, completely enamored by the gesture, “You’re very cheesy.”

“Only to you.”

You scrunch your nose, faking a disgusted look but Atsumu knows better than that and just crawls back in your arms and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips that you reciprocate almost immediately. It’s slow, languid, and passionate. Something people wouldn’t expect from someone like him.

“Don’t bother buying a new one, I think I like this one better.” You smiled, pulling away as you hold out your hand in which he happily puts on the simple band. He looks into your eyes again, the eyes he loved looking at since he was nineteen. The eyes that were filled with so much emotion that it always contrasted your face that was void of emotions. The same eyes that he dreamed his kids (and they did) to have when he asked you that one night if you wanted to have a family.

“I’m in love with you.” you break the silence.

You never said those words out loud before to him but hearing it now, after all that you’ve both been through. It’s worth it.

He’d do it all again just to be in this moment.

“I’m very much in love with you too.” He grins, leaning back in for another kiss.

Finally…

Finally he was able to catch up with you.

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