#Because you only really go into the archive room if your project has to do with organizing collections and catologing them

[aflamboyanceofflamingos]

In order to turn a very embarrassing moment of my life into something funny have this stupid Timbern au:

The Drakes are alive so Tim is still on track for being the heir of D.I. but is interning at W.E. for the summer because Bruce offered a position

Bernard has been interning at W.E. as well, for volunteering hours

The both work in a small, newer branch of W.E. that focuses on cultivating more information about Gotham’s history

Bernard’s there because it's the most teen focused thing and Tim’s there because he wants to figure where exactly the Lazarus pit is under Gotham so he can mess with Ra’s

They are currently stationed at an old house that was made into a museum which is managed by Wayne Enterprises, but since most of it is a museum there are only a few rooms to actually work, however it being a teen thing it’s very much choose your own hours so that prevents too many people from being there at once

Tim, who doesn’t want someone to come in a see the fact that he’s already finished cataloging all of the 2023 Donations to the museum and is instead using the time to further research the numerous curses in Gotham and/or watch Demon Slayer, is very happy about this fact and only comes at either the earliest or latest times so he gets a room to himself and only has to pretend to be going through boxes when someone checks on him

Bernard immediately messes up Tim’s plan

He’s always there- morning, night, even when Tim changes up his schedule

And no matter how many how many empty rooms there might be he always finds Tim and sits with him, even the time Tim tried to hide in the attic under the guise of organizing a couple boxes up there

Being the paranoid idiot that he is Tim assume that Bernard is a from the League of Assassins and enacts a 46-step plan to figure out what he’s planning (read: stalks him) and in the course of it ends up falling in love

Meanwhile on Bernard’s side, the first week of the internship he walked into the room Tim was in and wanted to be friends with the cute boy

The reason that he kept finding Tim was that he was talking to Dick Grayson, his gymnastics instructor, and Dick had realized that the boy in question was his honorary little brother and told Bernard that “Timmy’s shy, you just have to break down his walls to get to know him” and tells him when Tim’s going to the museum

Dick is well aware of what Tim thinks the situation is because he’s the one Tim rants to, but he thinks it’s funny and will make for a great story to tell at their wedding

[hoshifighting]

Rivals to Lovers — Mingyu

— Synopsis: You were willing to do everything to win the science fair and claim the $500 prize, hoping to outdo Mingyu, your college rival. You successfully win the prize, but your excitement took a hit when you found out that Mingyu actually wanted to use the prize money to support a dog adoption campaign. — WC: 9.1k — WARNINGS: smut, angst, fluff, some messages archives! sabotaging a school project, which could be interpreted as a form of cheating, pet adoption, rumors, guilt/regret, oral (f. receiving), bulge kink, face slap, dirty talk, mentions of fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, creampie, creampie eating, big cock!mingyu.

You never thought you'd have a rival. Enemies? Definitely not. You never even wanted one. Why bother? For what? Life is hard enough without unnecessary drama. But things have just changed.

Your science professor has announced a competition. The task? Create a clay volcano for the upcoming college science fair. It’s a throwback to middle school projects, something you haven’t done in years. The prize, however, is enticing: $500.

"Easy," you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips. Your name is consistently at the top of all your class grade scores. This should be a walk in the park.

But then there’s Mingyu. You and Mingyu are always neck and neck academically. Your rivalry isn’t born out of animosity, but there’s a real tension between the two of you. It’s as if the universe decided to pair you up as academic sparring partners.

As you sit in the lecture hall, the announcement still fresh in your mind, you can’t help but glance over at Mingyu. He’s already deep in thought, probably planning his volcano. Typical. You shake your head and chuckle quietly to yourself.

The whole college is buzzing with talk about the upcoming science fair. Everyone seems to have an opinion on who’s going to make the best volcano and walk away with the prize. Your name comes up a lot, but so does Mingyu’s, along with a few other students. The competition is heating up.

One afternoon, you’re in the library when Mingyu saunters over, a cocky grin on his face.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, leaning casually against the table. “I hope you’re ready to lose. My volcano is going to blow yours out of the water.”

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a spark of irritation. “Oh, really? And what makes you so sure?”

He shrugs, his grin widening. “Just a hunch. You might as well not even bother showing up.”

You narrow your eyes, your competitive spirit ignited. You didn’t intend for this to be such a cutthroat competition. It doesn’t even affect your grade; you just wanted the prize. But now, with Mingyu’s teasing, you’re ready to do whatever it takes to win. Even if it means cheating.

The week before the fair, you’re working overtime. Your room is a chaotic mix of clay, paint, and scientific paraphernalia. Not only are you perfecting your volcano, but you’re also hatching a plan to sabotage Mingyu’s. You overheard him mentioning he’s going to use bicarbonate for his lava. Perfect.

It’s late one evening when you spot Mingyu in the hallway. He’s carrying a bag of supplies, looking as smug as ever. You can’t resist the urge to confront him.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you call out, walking up to him. “I hope you’re not getting too confident. You might just be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

He stops, turning to face you. “Oh, please. I’ve got this in the bag. Maybe you should focus more on your project instead of worrying about mine.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I am focused. More than you know. Just don’t come crying when you lose.”

Mingyu’s expression darkens, and he steps closer. “You know, for someone who claims to be so good, you sure talk a lot of trash. Maybe it’s because deep down, you’re scared you’re not as great as you think.”

Your blood boils, and you take a step forward, closing the distance between you. “Watch it, Mingyu. You might be good, but you’re not unbeatable.”

“Neither are you,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with irritation.

The tension is thick, and for a moment, it feels like you might actually come to blows. But then a passing professor gives you both a stern look, and you back off, muttering under your breath.

That night, your resolve hardens. You’re going to win this. You’ll work doubly hard on your volcano and ensure Mingyu’s project doesn’t go as planned.

On the day of the fair, the hall is packed with students and faculty, all eager to see the displays. You manage to sneak into the lab when no one’s around before the presentations begin. You swap the bicarbonate inside Mingyu’s volcano for salt, ensuring his project will be a complete flop.

Your volcano stands proudly, a testament to your hard work and determination. As you watch Mingyu set up his project, you can’t help but smirk, knowing what’s coming.

When the time comes for the demonstrations, you go first. You add the substances, and your volcano erupts perfectly. The foam drips beautifully over the clay, drawing gasps and applause from the other students. The professor praises you, saying, “Perfect as always, Y/N.”

You beam with pride, soaking in the admiration. As you watch Mingyu with crossed arms, you can’t resist a little tease. “Good luck, Mingyu. You’re gonna need it.”

He gives you a sharp look but then turns his attention to his volcano, the picture of confidence. 

But as soon as he adds the final ingredient, nothing happens. 

The salt just mixes with the vinegar, and the expected eruption is a complete failure. Mingyu gives a strained smile to the professor, who watches with disinterest, as he tries to stir the mixture, but nothing happens.

The crowd murmurs, and you see Mingyu’s face fall. You look on from your table, feeling a rush of satisfaction. As Mingyu continues to fumble with his project, you walk out like nothing happened, feeling no guilt at all. 

Your name is called as the winner, and you step forward to accept the prize. As you hold the trophy, you feel a surge of triumph. Maybe this rivalry has gone too far. But for now, you’re on top, and that’s what matters. The envelope with the $500 is in your hand.

As you leave the university building, you slip the envelope into your bag. Some students congratulate you, and you give them your best smile as you advance to your car. Turning the key in the ignition, you glance at the group sitting by the fountain. There, a very frustrated Mingyu sits with his friends Joshua and Wonwoo, who are trying to comfort him. You look over your shoulder at them before getting into your car and driving away.

Over the next few days, the campus buzzes with talk about the volcanoes—mostly about your perfect eruption and Mingyu’s epic fail. Every time you stumble upon him in the hallway, you flash a devilish grin, ready to tease him, but he just walks away, mumbling an apology.

Was this really too much? You begin to wonder. The comments about the science fair slowly die down within the week, but Mingyu remains resentful. This puzzles you. Determined to confront him, you find him alone in the grandstand, reading some books.

You sit down beside him. He immediately starts gathering his things, but you hold his book down, stopping him.

“Are you really going to be all pitiful because of this stupid science fair?” you ask, your tone sharper than intended.

He huffs, looking up at you with frustration. “What do you want, Y/N? You want me to congratulate you? Fine. Congratulations! I don’t know what the fuck you did with that stupid money, but I wanted it. I really wanted that $500. Is that what you want to hear?”

You stay in shock, his words and tone catching you off guard. You and Mingyu have never argued like this before. You've never seen him lose his cool.

“Mingyu, I—”

But he doesn’t let you finish. He gathers the rest of his books and stands up, looking down at you with anger.

“You know what? Forget it. Just forget it,” he mutters before walking away, leaving you alone in pure disbelief.

Why did Mingyu want that money so badly? You try to ask some of your classmates, but no one knows. As you walk out of the university door, you hear Joshua's voice nearby. Glancing around, you see him apparently alone. Deciding to take the moment, you approach him.

“Hey, Joshua,” you say, trying to sound casual. “Can I ask you something?”

He looks up, surprised, but nods. “Sure, what’s up?”

You ask, “Do you know why Mingyu wanted that $500 so much?” 

Joshua frowns, contemplating whether or not to reveal the reason. After a moment, he breathes out and says, “Mingyu is a volunteer at a dog shelter. He wanted to use the money for a dog adoption campaign there.”

Your shoulders fall. “That’s why he wanted the money so badly?“

Joshua nods. “Yeah, he’s been volunteering there for years. He’s really dedicated to those dogs.”

Back at home, you sit on your bed, staring at the envelope on your bedside table. You haven’t even used the money yet. Closing your eyes, the regret beats at your door, relentless and insistent. You grab your notebook and start stalking Mingyu's social media.

When you pull up his LinkedIn, you see that he’s been volunteering at the kennel for five years. There are countless photos of him playing with puppies and grown dogs, some with disabilities, some older. Your heart clenches at the sight.

As you scroll through the photos, you see the joy and love on Mingyu's face, surrounded by the dogs he cares so deeply about. The realization hits you hard—his frustration and anger weren’t just about losing a competition. They were about losing the chance to help those dogs, to make a change.

You look back at the envelope, untouched and alone. The victory that once felt so sweet now tastes bitter.

You know what you have to do. 

The next morning, Mingyu arrives at the dog shelter, adjusting his volunteer shirt on his torso. He greets Mrs. Lee, who immediately coos at him.

“Why are you here today, Mingyu? It's Saturday, the sun is shining. You should be hanging out with your friends.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I was planning to make up some extra hours here and help with the donations later.”

Mrs. Lee's eyes light up, and she claps her hands. “No need for that, dear. A kind lady came by today and covered the donation. She gave us $500! Isn't that great?”

Mingyu frowns in confusion. Donations of that size are unusual for this shelter. “Really? Who was it?”

Mrs. Lee continues, “She's outside playing with the puppies. It's such a cute scene—you need to see it!”

She holds his hand and leads him to the open field. There, you are, lying on the ground, surrounded by a flurry of excited puppies. They lick your face and jump on you, their clumsy movements making you laugh. The scene is one of pure joy and innocence, and Mingyu can see that both you and the puppies are enjoying every moment.

He stands there, watching in awe. As if sensing his presence, you look up and meet his gaze. A smile spreads across your face, and you gently push the puppies off you, standing up and dusting off your clothes.

After a moment, Mingyu's expression turns serious. He waits for you to notice his presence. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice sharp.

You look down, avoiding his eyes. “I heard that you volunteer here and—”

“Yeah, I know. Joshua told me. What do you want?” Mingyu cuts you off.

You take a deep breath, looking everywhere but at him. A puppy cries at your feet, trying to get your attention, and you pick him up, nestling him in your arms as you caress him. “I’m sorry, Mingyu. If I had known that this was the reason you needed the money, I would have helped you with your volcano. Or I would have donated this earlier.”

He stands there, reluctant. “Did you really donate all the prize?”

You nod. “Yes. I’m really sorry.”

Just then, Mrs. Lee appears again, beaming. “Look, Y/N, who’s ready to go home!” In her arms, she holds a caramel puppy with a cute pink bow.

Mingyu's eyes widen. “Lola!”

Mrs. Lee continues, “Yes! Lola is finally getting a home. She’s such a sweet girl.”

Lola was a caramel dog who had a problem at birth and only had one eye. 

You smile softly, looking at Lola and then back at Mingyu. “I heard about Lola from Joshua. She deserves a good home.” “I fell in love with Lola,” you continue, sniffling the head of the puppy. 

Lola wriggles in your arms, her little tail wagging furiously. Mingyu watches you, trying to hide the way his heart throbs at the sight.

“Lola had a hard time getting adopted,” he says quietly. “I never thought you’d be the one to take her home.”

You smile, looking down at the puppy who’s now nuzzling into your neck. “I couldn’t resist her. She’s special.”

Mingyu nods, his expression softening even more. “Yeah, she is. She’s been here for a while, you know. I was worried she’d never find a home.”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “Well, now she has one. I’m going to make sure she’s happy.”

He pouts a little, thinking about how Lola won’t be teething his pants or his shoelaces when he arrives at the shelter anymore. “I’m going to miss her.”

“You can visit anytime,” you offer, then stop to think if it hadn't sounded too appealing. “I mean, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, a small smile forming. 

You shrug, feeling a sense of relief and a twinge of regret. “It’s the least I could do. I’m really sorry for what I did, Mingyu. I hope this makes up for it, even just a little.”

“It does,” he admits. “Seeing you with Lola… it’s a good sight. She looks happy.”

“She is,” you say, watching as Lola’s eyes droop sleepily in your arms. “And so am I.”

Mingyu chuckles softly. “I guess she found the right person after all.”

For a moment, you both stand there in comfortable silence, watching the puppies play. The rivalry that once felt so consuming now seems distant, replaced by a shared understanding and a newfound… respect.

“Maybe we could work together next time,” Mingyu suggests, breaking the silence.

“I bet you want to work together because you know I'm the best, right?” you tease, a playful glint in your eye.

Mingyu rolls his eyes, laughing. “Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, Y/N.”

As you turn to leave the shelter, Lola nestled contentedly in your arms, Mingyu watches you go, a smile lingering on his face. 

[...]

In the days that follow at college, Mingyu's friends find it strange to see the two of you greeting each other kindly, for what they believe is the first time. You don't force anything, knowing that pushing for kindness right now would feel hypocritical.

Mingyu always wondered why you were so gentle to everyone but him, but he also remembered that he wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, given your rivalry and his constant teasing. Now, seeing this different side of you, the resentment he held begins to fade.

In the quiet moments of your day, you reflect on the past weeks. How quickly things had escalated between you and Mingyu, from academic rivals to almost enemies. It felt strange, now that the tension was easing, to think about how much energy you had spent on trying to outdo him. You wonder if it was worth it.

The next day, you see Mingyu in the hallway. He’s standing with Joshua and Wonwoo, and they glance at you as you approach. You give them a small wave and a genuine smile.

“Hey, Mingyu,” you say.

“Hey, Y/N,” he replies, his tone surprisingly warm.

Joshua and Wonwoo exchange bewildered looks, but you don’t pay them much attention. “How’s Lola settling in?” Mingyu asks.

“She’s great,” you reply, the memory of her wagging tail bringing a smile to your face. “She’s already made herself at home.”

Mingyu nods, his expression softening. “That’s good to hear.”

As the days pass, you notice the way people react to your newfound harmony with Mingyu. They seem curious, whispering to each other as they watch the two of you interact. You and Mingyu aren’t best friends overnight, but the hostility is gone, replaced by a cautious but genuine friendliness.

Well, that's what you thought until now.

You walk into the hallway, the usual buzz of students replaced with an unsettling silence. Eyes follow you, not with curiosity but with judgment. The whispers you once ignored now feel like sharp blades. You push the bad feeling down your throat, trying to keep your head high as you make your way to the courtyard.

As you approach your friends, you notice their uneasy expressions. They exchange nervous glances, unsure whether to walk away or stay put. “What’s going on?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

One of your friends steps forward, looking uncomfortable. “There’s a video, Y/N,” they begin hesitantly. “On the university blog... it shows you sabotaging Mingyu’s volcano. It’s a little dark, but it’s you.”

Your heart sinks, a cold chill spreading through your chest. “What?” you whisper, the word barely escaping your lips.

Another friend chimes in, their voice low. “People are saying you might get kicked out of the university. They’re already talking about disciplinary actions.”

You feel the weight of their words settle on you, heavier than you could’ve imagined. Your thoughts race as you try to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Kicked out? You’d worked so hard to get here, and now it might all be over because of a moment of weakness and petty rivalry.

Your mind drifts to Mingyu, the awkward but promising start of a truce between you two. You wonder if he’s seen the video, if he knows the full extent of what you did. The thought makes you feel sick.

You glance around the courtyard, suddenly hyper-aware of the stares and whispers. Your friends stand by, uncertain and uncomfortable. You can’t blame them; they didn’t sign up for this drama. The fear of repercussions, the shame of being caught—it's all too much. You swallow hard, fighting the urge to cry.

“I—I need to go,” you stammer, turning away from the group. You don’t wait for their reactions as you walk briskly toward the building's exit. The video, the possibility of expulsion, Mingyu—all of it spins around in your head, a chaotic mess you can’t straighten.

The thought of your parents, the disappointment in their eyes if they find out, makes you feel even worse.

You sit in your car in the parking lot, tears streaming down your face as you watch the damning video on your phone for what feels like the hundredth time. The grainy footage shows you sneaking into the lab, swapping out the bicarbonate for salt in Mingyu’s volcano. Your heart sinks with each replay, the weight of your actions pressing down on you.

Then, a notification catches your eye. A new comment appears right after the post, marked by the blog admin so that it's fixed at the top. It’s from Mingyu.

kmingyu_1577: "hey everyone, just wanted to clarify that this video doesn't tell the whole story. the truth is, i had already messed up my volcano. the bicarbonate i used was expired, and i didn’t realize it until it was too late. y/n knew about it and was just trying to help me out. it’s not her fault. please stop the hate."

You blink through your tears, rereading the comment to make sure you didn’t misinterpret it. The comments below start shifting, the tide of public opinion turning. Relief and understanding replace the initial anger and disappointment.

“Wow, Mingyu’s so mature about this.”

“Glad to know the truth. Poor Y/N, she must have been so scared.”

“Thanks for clearing this up, Mingyu. You’re a good guy.”

You sit back, stunned. Why would Mingyu do this? After everything, why would he cover for you?

You hear a knock on your window, and your heart sinks. There he is, Mingyu, standing outside your car with a serious look. You’re too embarrassed to face him, but you roll the window down slowly, your hands trembling. He gestures for you to step out, his expression softening just slightly. You nod and step out of the car, trying to discreetly dry your tears, but the redness of your nose and eyes betrays you.

Mingyu stands in front of you, his posture relaxed but his eyes full of unease. He takes a deep breath, his voice calm as he speaks. “Why did you do this, Y/N? I mean, you're incredibly talented and intelligent. You’ve always been at the top, outshining everyone. There’s no need for you to resort to something like this. It doesn’t make sense... not for someone like you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you can’t bring yourself to look up. You feel the weight of your actions pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. But then you feel his hand gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. His touch is surprisingly gentle, and you see the genuine concern in his gaze.

“Y/N, you’re so much better than this. You’ve always been more than just your grades, more than just this rivalry we’ve had. You have so much potential, so much to offer. Sabotaging my project... it’s not who you are. It’s not who I believe you can be.”

You sniffle, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. They spill over, running down your cheeks. Mingyu’s eyes soften even more, and he sighs. 

You feel the lump in your throat grow, and a sob escapes your lips. “I’m so sorry,” you choke out. “I just... I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to win so badly, I lost sight of everything else. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Mingyu steps closer, his expression easing as he listens. He hesitates for a moment, then wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. You freeze for a second, surprised by the gesture, but then you melt into him, the sobs coming harder now. He holds you tightly, one hand gently rubbing your back.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispers. 

You cling to him, feeling the regret starting to lift, just a little. The heat of his embrace feels like a safe haven. Mingyu doesn’t let go, even as your tears soak into his shirt. He just holds you, steady and patient.

Eventually, your sobs quiet down, and you pull away slightly, wiping your eyes.

A question lingers in your mind, and you finally find the courage to voice it. “Why did you leave that comment?” you ask. “You didn’t have to say those things, you didn’t have to defend me like that. After everything I did... why?”

“I can’t lose my favorite rival that easily. Our rivalry... it’s pushed both of us to be better, to work harder. And I think, deep down, we both know that.” 

You chuckle softly. “So, you’re saying you did it because you need me as your competition?”

Mingyu laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Instead of tearing each other down, why don’t we join forces for a change?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Join forces? What do you have in mind?”

He leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Well, there’s a whole new batch of freshmen who think they can waltz in and take over. They’re talented, sure, but they have no idea what they’re up against. I say we show them how it’s done. What do you think? Team up and teach them a thing or two?”

You can't help but smile; the idea sparks a sense of harmony you hadn’t felt in a while. “So, you’re proposing an alliance?”

“Just think about it,” he replies.. “We could be unstoppable. The dynamic duo.”

Later that day, you scroll through the university blog and notice a new post: a photo of you and Mingyu sharing a heartfelt hug in the parking lot. The caption reads, “The unexpected truce: rivals turned allies?” Below the post, a comment catches your eye:

JoshuaHong_223: “I always thought they would make a powerful couple.”

[...]

You walk into the library, scanning the rows of bookshelves. Your mind is still buzzing with the encounter you had earlier. As you turn a corner, you spot Mingyu sitting at a table, surrounded by a pile of books. He’s focused, scribbling notes, but your presence doesn't go unnoticed. He looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he sees the expression on your face.

You stride over to him, your steps quick. When you reach his table, you crouch down to his level, trying to keep your voice low but unable to hide your frustration. “Mingyu, can you believe what just happened? One of the new freshmen had the nerve to confront me in the hallway. Can you imagine?”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, closing his book slowly as he leans back in his chair. “Seriously? What did they say?” He keeps his voice calm, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “They came up to me, all smug and confident, and basically implied that they were going to knock us off the top spot. Like they could actually compete with us.”

Mingyu’s lips twitch into a slight smirk. “Wow, bold move. Did they really think they could take you on just like that?”

You nod, still fuming. 

Mingyu chuckles softly, leaning forward with an amused twinkle in his eye. “Guess they have no idea what kind of competition they’ve signed up for. Ya! this could be fun. A little extra motivation to keep us sharp.”

You roll your eyes, though a small smile tugs at your lips. “Fun for you, maybe. I just don’t like the idea of someone thinking they can walk all over us.”

He reaches out and gently taps the back of your hand, a reassuring gesture. “Relax, Y/N. We’ve got this. If they want a challenge, we’ll give them one.”

You sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease a bit. 

You’re walking towards your car, the weight of the day heavy on your shoulders, when you hear that all-too-familiar voice. It’s one of the new freshmen, and her tone is dripping with smugness. You freeze, feeling a surge of irritation as her words cut through the quiet of the parking lot.

You turn around sharply, spotting her standing a few feet away with a smirk on her face. Her attitude is infuriating, and you feel your patience snapping. Mingyu, standing a distance away, watches with a knowing look, sensing that you’re about to lose your shit.

As you close the distance between you, you see her expression shift from confident to slightly uncertain. You get right up in her space, your chest touching hers. “Listen here,” you say, your voice low and controlled but bounded with anger. “I’ve had enough of your crap. I’m not afraid to beat your ass.”

She narrows her eyes, not backing down. “Oh? And what are you going to do? Risk getting kicked out of the university again?”

You scoff, shoving your bag through the open window of your car. The motion emphasizing your frustration. “Really? You think you can scare me with that? You’re just a freshman, and you’ve got some nerve talking to me like that. The parking lot is outside university grounds. No one here can touch us. And I'm not afraid to beat your ass.”

Her eyes widen as she processes your words, the confidence draining from her expression. “You think you can just intimidate me and get away with it?”

You lean in closer, your voice a dangerous whisper. “I’m not here to play games. If you’ve got a problem, we can sort it out. But don’t think for a second that you’re going to walk all over me without consequences.”

As you push your chest into the girl’s, you feel her shove back, her rage matching yours. The confrontation is heating up, and just as you’re about to respond, Mingyu strides over and steps in between you, pulling you back against him. His arms wrap around your shoulders and arms, his chest pressing against your back.

“Hey, hey, that’s enough,” Mingyu says, his voice authoritative. “Let’s not escalate this further.”

You struggle slightly, but his hold is steady, keeping you securely against him. 

“How about you give me a ride and let me help you get away from this situation?” He whispers exaggeratedly.

You look over your shoulder, meeting his gaze, and sighing. Mingyu releases you from his embrace but keeps a protective hand on your back as you both walk towards your car. The freshman watches, but she doesn’t make a move to follow.

As you open the car door and slide into the driver’s seat, Mingyu gets in beside you, placing your bag on his lap, and settling into the passenger seat. 

As you focus intently on the road, your jaw clenched and your eyes angrily fierce, Mingyu can’t help but notice the vigor of your expression. The anger from the conflict still simmers beneath the surface, and every so often, you grip the steering wheel a bit harder, your knuckles white. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than he intends, his eyes admiring the mad energy that radiates from you.

He’s seen you angry before, but this—this is something different. There’s a raw, magnetic energy about you when you’re like this, and he can’t help but be captivated by it.

Mingyu bites his bottom lip, trying to steady himself. Part of him is charmed by how hot you look when you’re mad. It’s as if your anger fuels a side of you that’s irresistible. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the distracting thoughts. This isn’t the time for that.

He straightens up in his seat, looking out the window, focusing on the blur of trees and buildings rushing by. The silence in the car is thick, punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of gears. 

Mingyu knows he needs to break the silence, to offer some kind of reassurance. But he’s also aware that now might not be the best time for his usual teasing.

Oh, maybe that's why he liked to tease you—the sight of you mad.

His hand, initially resting awkwardly at his side, slowly finds its way to your thigh. The touch is tentative at first, his fingers feeling the warmth of your skin through your jeans. He gives it a firm squeeze, trying to offer some comfort.

“Hey, Y/N,” Mingyu says softly. “Try to relax a bit. You’re too wound up.”

You soften your jaw, releasing some of the tightness, and let your shoulders relax. You lean your head slightly against the headrest. Mingyu’s thumb begins to make slow, soothing circles on your thigh. His touch is like a balm, easing some of the tension from your body.

You pull up in front of Mingyu’s home, the car coming to a gentle stop. The quiet of the night envelops you both as you turn off the engine. Mingyu glances at you, his eyes softening as he gives a small, grateful smile.

“Thanks for the ride, Y/N,” he says sincerely. 

He reaches out, his fingers pinching the tense curve of your neck. 

“Ouch!” You pout. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases with a soft laugh, his fingers lingering for a moment.

You can’t help but sulk slightly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Well, you did just see me almost start a fight.”

Mingyu’s smile widens, and he leans in closer. “Let me help with that. I’m pretty good at taking away tension.”

Before you can respond, he starts kissing the curve of your neck with an unhurried, conscious trail of saliva. The sensation of his warm lips against your skin is making you melt against the seat. His hand moves to the other side of your neck, his fingers kneading the tense muscles with gentle strokes.

The combination of his kisses and the soothing massage leaves you in a state of blissful ease—but probably wet. You close your eyes, your head tilting back slightly as you surrender to the feeling. 

Mingyu’s touch eventually slows, and he pulls back, a satisfied smile on his face. “Thanks for letting me help with that. You’re much better now.”

You nod, still slightly dazed from the unexpected massage. “You’re welcome. I—”

He cuts you off with a soft chuckle, opening the car door. “Oh, and before I forget,” he says, glancing back at you with a touch of playful seriousness. “Send me a message when you get home, okay?”

You nod again, managing a small smile as he steps out of the car. “I will.”

Mingyu closes the door with a final, lingering look, his smile wide as he heads up to his front door. 

As Mingyu is about to open his front door, you call out to him. “Hey, Mingyu!”

He pauses, turning back with a curious eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

“You nasty! Making a move like that right before you leave.”

Mingyu chuckles, his eyes twinkling with naughtiness. “Oh, was I too forward? I just wanted to help you relax. Maybe I got a bit carried away.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “A bit carried away? You practically turned my neck into a love nest.”

He grins, stepping closer to the car. “Well, if it means getting you to loosen up a bit, I’d say it was worth it. Besides, I thought you might enjoy it.”

Your cheeks flush slightly as you fight to keep your composure. “I—well, I did. But don’t think you can just get away with it.”

Mingyu leans against the car door, his expression smug. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m sure you’ll be thinking about it on your ride home.”

You give him a mock glare, trying to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Fine, fine. Just don’t think you’re off the hook for being a tease.”

Mingyu’s eyes twinkle with delight as he starts to head back toward his door. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances to get back at me. Until then, keep that bottom lip tight between your teeth. It’s kind of sexy when you do.”

You let the bottom lip escape from your teeth, your expression gawked. 

“Don’t forget to text me when you get home, or I might have to come check on you.”

With that, Mingyu heads inside, leaving you with a fluttering heart and a tight grip on your bottom lip as you drive away, the naughty exchange lingering in your mind.

(open the photos)

The next day, Mingyu looked like he’d barely slept. His pristine appearance was disheveled, his eyes a bit glassy, and there was a certain exhaustion about him that was hard to miss. It was clear that your midnight message had taken a toll on him.

His tired eyes and the slight stubble on his face made it evident he’d been up all night, likely replaying your audio moaning and the hickey photo in his mind. You couldn’t suppress a smirk at the thought of how your little game had left him looking so disoriented.

“Morning, Mingyu. Rough night?” you teased, unable to resist the opportunity.

He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. “You have no idea. What was that last night?” His voice was incredulous.

“You looked like you needed a wake-up call.”

Mingyu’s face flushed slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “I didn’t expect you to take it that far. Seriously, what’s your problem?”

“Just keeping things interesting. You know, making sure you don’t get too comfortable. Besides, you started it.”

He shook his head, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “Yeah, well, you definitely made your point. I think I might be feeling this one for a while.”

“Glad to hear it. I'll consider it a compliment.” You smirked, enjoying the way he was visibly trying to regroup.

Mingyu gave a reluctant chuckle, finally being able to see the humor in the situation. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you that. Just don’t make a habit of it. I need to survive the rest of this semester.”

Certainly, you and Mingyu hadn’t exactly become best friends overnight, but the dynamic between you two had undeniably shifted after what happened last night. 

There was a new kind of tension in the air, an electric undercurrent that had nothing to do with animosity and everything to do with the teasing games you both seemed so fond of.

Mingyu was too attracted to your fiery expressions to let things slide, and he had to admit—something was thrilling about the way your usual small spats had taken a new direction.

 But the teasing? That still remained, stronger than ever.

You were in the last class of the day, and you could tell from the way Mingyu’s gaze kept drifting toward you that he was aware of everything you were doing. 

Earlier, you had been sliding your middle and ring fingers slowly inside the slit of your book, your smile widening as you noticed his eyes glued to your movements. Mingyu hadn’t missed a thing.

In the lab, he had been at the table right next to yours, and when you crouched down to pick up something “accidentally” dropped, you made sure to lift the front of your skirt just enough to give him a glimpse of your thighs. The fabric had risen provocatively, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes blackened, nor how he subtly adjusted his position as if to ease some tension. 

On the third provocation, it clicked for him—he finally understood the game you were playing, and he was more than ready to play along.

Now, in the current lecture, you found yourself seated right beside him. You were doing your best to focus on the lecture, but when you glanced sideways, you saw him palming himself through his pants. 

The motion was subtle enough not to draw attention from others, but obvious enough for you to notice the perfect outline of his cock pressing against the fabric. Your breath hitched as your thighs instinctively pressed together under the table.

Mingyu caught your reaction immediately, and you saw a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He licked his finger slowly, before using it to turn the page of his book, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. It was a blatant taunt, a silent challenge that he was not backing down.

But you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand. Not just yet.

You shifted in your seat, leaning back slightly as you let one of your legs brush against his under the table. The touch was light, almost accidental, but the way his body tensed told you he felt it. 

You let the edge of your shoe graze up the inside of his calf, teasing your way higher as you pretended to be engrossed in your notes. Mingyu didn’t move, his breath growing shallower, but he didn’t pull away either.

Your hand slowly made its way to your lap, where you began tracing small circles on the fabric of your skirt, inching the hem higher just enough that he could see your fingers playing with the material.

You knew his eyes were glued to the action, his own hand still resting against his thigh, tense, almost daring you to keep going.

Without warning, you let your fingers dip beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing over the sensitive skin of your upper thigh. You could practically feel the restraint he was forcing on himself. His stare darted between your face, your hand, and the bit of exposed skin, as if he couldn’t decide which to focus on.

Then, leaning in slightly as if you were about to whisper something in his ear, you let your hand trail higher, just shy of the edge of your underwear. You didn’t touch yourself, but the implication was clear. Mingyu’s breathing hitched, and you could tell he was holding back a groan. His eyes were burning into you, the heat between you two palpable.

He wasn’t going to let this go unanswered. Not a chance.

Mingyu’s hand moved from his thigh to the edge of his desk, fingers tapping rhythmically as he tried to maintain his composure. But when you let out a small, barely audible sigh—one that could have been mistaken for frustration, but you knew better—his resolve broke.

Mingyu leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Keep going like that, and I won’t be able to focus on anything but you. Is that what you want?”

You bit your bottom lip, glancing at him through your lashes, and nodded ever so slightly. Mingyu’s eyes darkened further, and he let out a quiet, almost desperate laugh.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Because I’m going to make you regret teasing me like this when we’re alone.”

The moment the bell rang, signaling the end of the lecture, you didn’t waste any time. Gathering your things quickly, you slipped out of the classroom, moving fast through the hallways with a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. 

The rush of the chase made your heart race, knowing full well that Mingyu was right behind you. The game was on, and you had no intention of making it easy for him.

You headed straight for your car, hoping to put some distance between you and Mingyu, but before you could reach the driver's side, a firm grip caught your arm.

A strong hand grabbed your arm, spinning you around. Mingyu was right there, his expression a mix of amusement and challenge.

“Running away from me, are you?” he teased, his voice low and laced with a smirk.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a laugh as you looked up at him, your eyes gleaming with the same playful energy.

 But before you could respond, Mingyu’s hand slid up to your jaw, his fingers firm yet gentle as he pressed you against the side of your car. Your back hit the cool metal, and you widened your eyes in surprise, your breath catching in your throat.

There were people around—students lingering in the parking lot, walking to their cars, chatting in small groups. But the way Mingyu looked at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race, made it clear that he didn’t care who was watching. 

And from the heat in your gaze, he could tell you didn’t either. 

The next thing you knew, the scene had shifted. 

You were no longer in the parking lot, but somewhere far more yours. Your clothes were discarded in a trail leading to the bed, and now, Mingyu’s body was pressed flush against yours. 

The teasing, the back-and-forth, the playful banter—it had all led to this moment, and now there was nothing holding either of you back.

You hated yourself for not being able to resist him.

Despite everything, despite knowing you shouldn’t be this weak for him, here you were, looking into his eyes, your jaw slack as you practically drooled. 

Mingyu had already made you cum more times than you could count, his fingers and mouth driving you to the edge and beyond, and now, as he hovered above you, you struggled to take him in, feeling stretched to your absolute limit.

“Too big, too big… Mingyu—ah!” you cried out, your voice breaking as his cock pushed into you, filling you to the brim. 

Mingyu’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he licked his lips, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling beneath him. “Too big, huh?” he teased. “Should I have mercy on you?”

Before you could respond, his fingers reached down to your clit, pinching it just hard enough to make your back arch off the bed. The loud moan that escaped your lips was involuntary. 

You felt a flush of embarrassment wash over you, ashamed of how desperate and clingy you were being for him, how you couldn’t control yourself around him.

“Shhh,” Mingyu chided softly. “You don’t want to be too loud, do you? Lola’s right in the next room.”

You had made sure to put the dog away, closing the door before things heated up. Frustrated, you slapped him lightly on the chest, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it only made him chuckle.

“You’re such a crybaby,” Mingyu whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy as he started to rock his hips, each thrust making you sob. “First crying on my shoulder… now crying on my cock. What am I going to do with you?”

Your eyes drifted down, catching sight of the bulge from his cock pressing against your belly, making the stretch inside you all the more real, all the more intense. Mingyu noticed too, his gaze following yours before his hand, the one that had been tormenting your clit, moved up to caress the bulge. He pressed down on it, the added pressure making you gasp, your legs spasming around him.

“Motherfucker,” you grit through your teeth, the words almost a growl.

Mingyu only smirked at your reaction. “Watch your mouth,” he scolded, his voice low as he began thrusting harder, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust. “You… need… to… learn… some… respect.”

With every thrust, your body tensed and then melted back into the sheets, the rhythm pushing you further into a state of desperate need. 

Your chin quivered as you cried out, your voice trembling. One hand slid up his back, fingers digging into his skin, while the other wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you as your legs locked around his waist. You held him tight, clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Mingyu smiled, leaning in so his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke. “You’re so cute when I fuck you like this,” he murmured. “All grumpy and stubborn outside, but here… you just melt for me.”

You wanted to respond, to say something back, but the pressure was too much, too intense, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body strung tight like a bow ready to snap.

And then it did.

Your entire body tensed, every muscle tightening as the pleasure yanked through you. Your back arched off the bed, pressing your chest against his as your nails dug into his skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks along his back.

Your legs tightened around him, trapping him in place as your body convulsed, your walls clenching around his cock in a desperate attempt to pull him even deeper. Your vision blurred, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes as you sobbed his name, the sound of it broken, completely broken.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—everything was white-hot pleasure, consuming you completely.

Mingyu stayed with you through it all, his own breath hitching as he watched you come undone beneath him.

Your body was still trembling from your orgasm, but Mingyu didn’t give you a moment to recover. He continued thrusting into you, relentless despite how tight you were around him. 

Sensing your haze, Mingyu pulled back slightly from your embrace, his strong arms still cradling your trembling frame. His hands found their way to your face, and before you could process it, he gave you a light slap, just enough to snap you back to reality. 

The sting on your face was a shock, but it was the way your body reacted—clenching tighter around his cock—that caught both of you off guard.

He watched your eyes widen. The effect it had on you was unmistakable, and Mingyu, ever the tease, decided to test it again. Another slap, this time a bit firmer, and the response was immediate—your walls squeezed him so tightly that he hissed through his teeth.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me—” His voice broke off into a moan as his hips stuttered, a hand flying to the pillow under your head to brace himself. 

He came hard, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as his head fell back, eyes rolling as his release filled you. He stayed there for a moment, savoring the high, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he drank in the way your body clung to his.

You looked up at him, your breath still coming in uneven gasps, annoyed at how effortlessly he pulled you under his spell. 

He looked too good, too smug, and it pissed you off—especially when he came with that full, satisfied grin plastered across his face. The sight of him, made your irritation spike, but it was quickly overshadowed by something else when he started to move again.

Mingyu wasn’t done. He raised himself up slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel confused. What was he planning now? Before you could ask, he began to lower himself, and your confusion turned into shock as the realization hit you.

He’s not going to… You thought to yourself, eyes widening as you watched him get lower.

But he was. 

Mingyu was about to do the nastiest shit, and the excitement was written all over his face. The look of surprise + disbelief on your face only fueled him further, making him more determined to see this through. He lowered his mouth to your core, the mix of your juices and his cum still leaking out of you, and without hesitation, he began to eat you out, his tongue lapping up the mess he had made.

The overstimulation, plus, something so dirty it made your head spin. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching him in a trance. You could barely process what was happening—his lips, his tongue, all of it working on you again, despite the fact that you were already so sensitive, and full of his cum.

“Mingyu, what the fuck—” you started, but the rest of your sentence was lost to a moan as his tongue flicked out to taste more of you—and… him. His own cum smeared across his lips and chin. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He teased even as he continued to lap at you, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive flesh until your hips were twitching uncontrollably. “Too much for you? Or do you like watching me clean up my own mess?” 

You tried to speak, tried to tell him to stop or keep going; you weren’t sure anymore, but all that came out were broken moans and gasps. He hummed against you, the vibration sending shivers through your already overstimulated body. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue worked you over.

He finally pulled back, leaving you breathless and trembling, your body still humming with the orgasm he'd just given you. You looked down at your pussy, glistening from his attention, but something didn’t add up. There was no trace of the mess he had made earlier, just the slickness from his saliva. Confused, your eyes flicked back to him, then back down to yourself, your mind struggling to piece together what the fuck had just happened.

Mingyu caught your fogged look and let out a deep, satisfied laugh, the sound was rich, deep, and so incredibly self-satisfied.

He stuck his tongue out, showing you the clean, pink muscle—without a hint of the mess you expected—and you nearly lost it. Did he really swallow it all? Your mind raced, and the disbelief was written all over your face.

“Fuck... did you just…?” you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You were too stunned to finish the thought.

He grinned, leaning on his elbows, completely unbothered by what had just transpired. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a low, teasing drawl. “Swallowed every drop.”

Your eyes widened, shock flooding your system. You could hardly believe it. And the worst part? He looked so damn proud of himself.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. Not even you had tasted him like that, and yet he had done it without a second thought. The realization hit you like a truck, and before you knew it, you were pulling him back to you, needing to feel him, taste him, and confirm that it had really happened.

Your lips crashed into his, and you kissed him with an appetite that surprised even you. His mouth was warm and soft, the remnants of his earlier work still lingering, and it only made you more desperate. 

Mingyu’s hands slid into your hair, tugging slightly as he deepened the kiss, feeding off your urgency. When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, he gave you a smug smile, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip.

“Taste good, doesn’t it?” he teased. “Thought I’d save you some, but… I couldn’t help myself. It was too fucking good.”

You stared at him, still trying to process everything, and he just laughed again, the sound rumbling through his chest as he watched you grapple with the situation.

[...]

You didn’t know how you managed to sleep after everything that had happened. By all accounts, you should have been wide awake, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. But exhaustion won out, and not only did you fall asleep—you practically passed out. The weight of the night’s events melted away as soon as your head hit the pillow, dragging you into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Morning crept up on you gently, the first thing you noticed being something warm and wet against your face. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with Lola’s excited little face, her tongue happily lapping at your cheek. You groaned, half-heartedly trying to push her away, but she was relentless, her tail wagging furiously behind her.

“Lola, come on… let her sleep,” came Mingyu’s voice, a shout-whisper from somewhere near the foot of the bed. You could hear the fun in his tone, despite the fact that he was trying to be serious.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, surprising even you with its lightness. It felt strange, this casual morning after, as if last night hadn’t completely turned your world upside down. 

You wiped at your face Lola's excitement was contagious, and soon you were sitting up, rubbing your eyes and grinning at her.

Mingyu walked over, his hair still mussed from sleep, an easy smile on his face as he watched you. “Guess she missed you,” he said, shrugging as if to say he couldn’t be held responsible for Lola’s antics.

“Yeah, I can tell,” you replied, your voice still thick with sleep as you scratched behind Lola’s ears.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[h3wi]

"how to get your crush to like you back in 3 easy steps"

or: dan heng likes you. march knows.

dan heng x f!reader. pining fools and idiots in love. march is close to having a metaphorical heart attack. cliche shoujo stuff.

"you have a crush on her."

"i absolutely do not."

march fixes dan heng with an unimpressed gaze. "you are literally so obvious, don't even try and deny it again."

obvious? he's obvious? dan heng tries not to panic. in a poor attempt to salvage the unsalvageable, he says, lamely, "...i don't know what you're talking about."

graciously preserving the little dignity he has left, march ignores him. she claps him on the shoulder sympathetically. "don't worry, i'm a pro wingwoman. i accept payment in the form of desserts."

dan heng's right eye twitches.

1. show interest in their interests, pay attention to them.

that's easy, he thinks to himself. he always pays attention to you, it comes naturally to him. he knows how you prefer your coffee with a dash of milk and honey, not too sweet. he knows how you always start books but rarely ever finish them unless they were "really good and checked all my boxes!" and could go on thesis-worthy rants about your favourite ones. he knows how you like to keep succulents on your table and give them all ridiculous names like "king coin of doge land" and "a rad little guy".

so easy, in fact, that he feels the most confident he's ever been as he strides across the room over to you. you’re fiddling with something, looking vaguely nervous as you talk to march.

"good morning." he greets, eyeing the newest project you seem to be occupied with in your hands. a crotchet dragon, how nice. he knows exactly how to keep the conversation going now—

"what's cookin', good lookin'?"

his brain short circuits.

what is he supposed to say to that? were you flirting? does he flirt back? was it just a phrase? what's cooking-?

"but i'm not on cooking duty today."

dan heng watches your face freeze in confusion. his face feels like stone. to the side, march looks like she’s about to strangle him.

"...uh huh."

an awkward silence hangs in the air. dan heng wishes he was a statue.

— a failure, cut your losses and move on.

2. compliment something they’ve put effort into.

“please elaborate.”

“say something you like about her.” march takes a bite of her parfait (courtesy of dan heng), “but it has to be something she put conscious thought into. it shows that you notice the little things, and it makes her feel good about herself which makes her feel good about you. bam! two birds with one stone.”

dan heng only feels more confused. “but i like everything about her.”

even with the sweet treat in her mouth, march looks like she tasted something sour.

“so do i compliment her on everything i can think of?”

“no, no. you-“ march heaves a sigh, “pick one. just one.”

when he sees you in the archive room, he notices the now completed crotchet dragon in your hand. he decides that this is the perfect time to redeem himself.

“it’s well-made. i like the teal colour.” he says, and mentally congratulates himself for not messing up right off the bat (again).

“thank you, it’s, um, actually supposed to be the dragon you summon.”

“oh.” dan heng’s mind had been so occupied with march’s plans and you that he didn’t even make the connection. he feels just a little stupid.

“…and it’s for you.”

“oh.” a gift from you? and it was made exclusively to represent him, with hours of effort? he is in shock.

he must have taken too long to answer, because you notice the hesitation. flushing with embarrassment, you say “it’s a little much, huh? sorry.”

dan heng doesn’t manage to get a word in (because he would love to have the crotchet dragon, thank you very much!) before you scurry out the door. it clicks as it shuts, his outstretched hand reaching for nothing but air.

— i don’t want to call you a dumbass, but you’re kind of being a dumbass.

3. find time alone with them.

“i’ll help you with this one. but when you’re alone with her, you’re on your own.” march looks mildly concerned, “…will you be ok?”

“of course.” he says, and it’s merely bravado.

“right, well, i managed to convince mr. yang, miss himeko, and pom pom to visit this café with me—you’re paying, of course—it’s a rare opportunity so make full use of it, ‘kay?”

alone on the express. with you. no one else. no big deal, he tries to convince himself.

they keyword is ‘tries’, of course.

when the time comes, he gathers all the courage he has and, hopefully nonchalantly, asks you to watch a movie with him with a mini projector march had lent him beforehand. you agree, and it’s the first hurdle cleared. no mishaps so far.

“i’ll make you coffee, the way you like it.” he offers, and feels a flutter in his chest when you smile. if he could, he would bottle the feeling you gave him up and ration it throughout the rest of his life.

“i would love that.”

he gets to work, prepping the sugar and honey as he waits for the water to boil. the conversation between the two of you comes easily, as if the recent incidents didn’t happen at all, and dan heng feels the familiar serenity that comes from being in your presence. it was quiet save for your conversation, and the backdrop of stars outside the train seemed to be even more mesmerising than usual.

but of course, not everything goes according to plan.

the astral express, which had been sailing through the stars so smoothly, lurches from sudden turbulence. you bump against the kettle when you try to stabilise yourself and knock it over. boiling water spills all over the counter and onto the floor.

“watch out!”

not wanting you to be scalded, he grabs your arm and tries to push you away with his back towards the spillage. but his foot steps on the water and he slips, falling forward.

the two of you land on the floor in a heap, inches away from the spill. pure reflexes allow him to minimise the impact of your head meeting the floor by using his other hand as a cushion. he thinks he has bruised his knuckles. he has sprained his wrist.

the thought of the compromising position doesn’t even cross either of your minds. you crawl out from underneath him, and, perceptive as ever, notice when he rubs his wrist and winces.

“dan heng! are you ok?” you fuss over him, hands flitting over his wrist. dan heng feels like he would have enjoyed the attention more if he wasn’t so disappointed that his plans were disrupted. it had been going so well, he mourns. he watches as your back disappears around the corner with promises of finding the first aid kit.

it’s hard for the previous tranquil atmosphere to come back when you obviously felt bad about his wrist (even thought he assured you it was alright and not to worry), and his plans were derailed. the both of you work together to clean up the mess, which took some time, and try to enjoy the movie, but the momentum was lost.

— …

“what do you mean all my plans went bust? i worked so hard to convince pom pom to come with me!” march looks at you in horror.

“i don’t know! i thought you said you were a pro at this! i tried the pick-up line, i tried giving him a gift, and i even spent time alone with him, nothing worked! am I just inept at this love thing?” you shake her by the shoulders, tears of frustration on the edge of falling. march could only feel wronged.

“oh my god. you’re both idiots.”

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER THIRTY

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.” The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

---

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

---

THIRTY EXCERPT:

“And you, Hatchling,” said Nagini, her eyes on Harry now. There was an air of contentment surrounding the two of them, as Tom stroked her scales. Harry’s heart swelled with warmth at the fond gaze Tom held for his familiar. “Have you agreed to learn how to better speak my language, Hatchling?”

“I’ve agreed to lessons, yeah,” said Harry. “It’d be nice to learn how to control it.”

“We’ll practice parseltongue tomorrow while everyone has gone to Hogsmeade.”

Harry sank in disappointment. “What?” he said, looking directly at Tom and not noticing his switch to English. “But I’ve been looking forward to the Hogsmeade trip. Aren’t you going? Don’t you have a plan for it?”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Plan?”

“Yeah, do you want to get some sweets or check out the bookstore?”

“I’m not going.”

“What?”

“I don’t need anything,” said Tom, shaking his head. “Why would I go?”

Harry was at a loss now. He wasn’t sure why he felt so disappointed about the fact of missing a Hogsmeade trip. It wasn’t like he really needed to go either. But… I’d like to go with Tom. “I dunno,” he said, scrambling for a reason. “Uh, for a change of scenery?”

Tom folded his arms. “Harry, have you seen the grounds?” he asked with a sardonic lilt. “There’s plenty of scenery to take in. If you’re in dire need of the outdoors, we can always take the lessons to the grounds.”

“Not quite what I meant and you know it.”

“You know it’s rude to exclude the other party in the room from your conversation. Are you two fighting again?”

Huh? Wait, I wasn’t speaking in parseltongue?

Tom rolled his eyes. “This is ridiculous. You are not convincing me.”

“Yes, yes, forget I exist again, why don’t you?”

“Nagini, he’s being difficult.”

“Me?” protested Harry, shifting back to parseltongue when his gaze rested on Nagini. “I just would like to go to Hogsmeade.” With you. “And the others are going, too. Come with us. It’ll be fun.”

“A Hogsmeade trip is a waste of time if you’re not buying anything in particular,” said Tom, shaking his head. “I’m not interested.”

Nagini’s eyes were sharp as she eyed them both. She uncurled from Tom’s lap, slithering away silently, until she disappeared from the curtains. Neither Harry nor Tom noted her absence.

“But aren’t there other interesting places to visit? We could get a butterbeer.”

“It’s frivolous spending.”

Oh.

Harry blinked. Oh. That was right. While Harry knew what it’d been like to live without money of his own as a child, that had changed when he’d gotten his Hogwarts letter and discovered the wealth his parents had left him. He hadn’t exactly been ‘frivolous’ with his money, but he hadn’t paid attention to it either, not like Ron had often worried about money.

Even now, with his funds somewhat limited, he hadn’t really thought about it too much or what he’d have to do in the future to earn a living. But Tom, on the other hand, was on an assistance fund here at Hogwarts. The only reason he could attend the school at all was because of that fund. Though Tom had always appeared immaculate in his appearance, Harry couldn’t help but wonder now if his belongings were secondhand.

“Right,” whispered Harry. “I forgot.”

Tom frowned. “Forgot what.”

“Well… you haven’t got any family, so I forgot that also probably means you haven’t got money either.”

A mixture of embarrassment and anger flushed through Tom’s cheeks. His chest puffed up; the light in his eyes grew flinty.

[desperate-daydream]

can I request Seth Clearwater x male reader

where male reader is Bella younger brother Seth age but he phases and becomes a shifter and nobody knows how or why Seth and male reader imprint on each other and just being cute and wholesome with each other but Jacob is giving male reader a hard time saying thing like Bella should have been to phase and if did she imprint on me and ECT but Seth put stop to that put Jacob in his place after he make male reader cry

🍎 Twilight

❀ Seth Clearwater x male (shifter) reader ⚣︎

A/N: thanks for the request and sorry for the long wait, I had a terrible writers block until today and then I just wrote the whole thing in one go XD, and I know ugh, self promo but I have a twilight story on Ao3 with the main being Bella’s twin and Jake imprinting on him (maybe some of you will like that too even if it’s not that similar to this story) (that’s also why it felt so weird to write Jake so mean XD I basically just finished a chapter from that story before writing this one, but I hope you like it)

tags/warnings: set in eclipse (aka the movie where Jake is kinda toxic), Jake is mean and has some issues, reader is Bella’s younger brother, also I wanted Bella to be a good sister, reader is a shifter and imprints on Seth

here‘s the link to the story on my Ao3:

so that’s what imprinting feels like

“What happened?!”, Bella came jumping out of her car. Jacob had called her as soon as possible when Paul and Embry had found you in the middle of the forest. You had been scared - not just because there had been two giant wolves in front of you but also because you had just shifted into one too. They had managed to calm you down enough until Sam arrived. He had brought spare clothes from one of their “emergency supplies” that you put on after shifting back. Then they guided you to Jacob’s place. They had thought it would be the best idea since you had technically also grown up together with Bella although now you didn’t really have anything to do with each other anymore. And he was able to call Bella who had rushed over as fast as possible when she had processed what Jake told her. While waiting the other four wolves had already told you the essentialities of being a shifter and basically destroyed your whole world-perception. 

As nice and caring as he had always been, Billy stayed by your side. You had gained a better relationship to Jacob’s dad than to Jacob himself. Especially since you still spent a little bit more time with your dad and therefore also Billy - even if it was just watching a game in your living room. 

Bella came straight to you, only sparring Jake a sideways glance as she was too focused on you. 

“Hey”, her voice was quiet and soft, “oh god, you’re shivering.” She placed her arms around you and pulled you closer. You hadn’t even noticed it until she said it. 

“Just a bit much right now.”

“I know. Let’s go home so you can rest a little, mh?” You nodded. 

“Wait, we still have so much to do now”, Jake said persistently, “You have to tell Charlie too. And what if he shifts again and hurts you?”

Bella now turned completely to him. “You can still do all of this tomorrow. He needs to sleep right now.” 

Jake wanted to start again: “But what if-”

“Jake, let it be for now.” 

That’s all she said before getting up with you and walking to her truck together. 

“How did this happen?”, she asked on the drive home.

“I don’t know.” You put up your legs and put your arms around them even though you felt way too warm. 

“I wasn’t feeling good and wanted to take a walk because it usually helps but then.. I don’t know.”

You big sister sighed and looked at you shortly before focusing back on the road. “Let’s worry about it tomorrow. It’s getting late and you seem tired.”

You only nodded while your eyelids already dropped. 

When you arrived you walked straight to your room and the moment your head touched your pillow you were gone. 

�� 

“We’ll do it step for step”, you stood next to Sam who would teach you today how to control your shifting so you would hopefully not hurt anybody around you or yourself - not to mention keeping the secret of the pack. 

What he didn’t tell you then was that they’ve had a discussion just yesterday after Bella had picked you up whether or not they should officially include you in the pack since you were a new and special case. In the end they came to the conclusion that you would need and deserve the help and guide the others could give you. He also didn’t tell you that Jacob seemed a bit too disapproving of this new situation and that he guessed it had something to do with the thoughts he had heard from him that were once again centered on none other than your own sister. 

“Okay”, you nodded; also to convince yourself that everything would be okay. 

“Also, you’re not the only young member, don’t worry. Seth Clearwater, he is your age and has also shifted. You will meet him later at the fire.” 

You had already agreed to come when he and Billy had invited you and Bella to come. Bella had added another dimension to this whole situation when she had told you about the Cullens and the vampire that was going after her. She had calmed you a bit when she reassured that she was as good as always protected by either the vampire family of her boyfriend or the wolves. 

For the rest of the day you tried to shift on command and Sam and his fiancée Emily gave you a few tips on how to control your anger. 

Then you went to the fire where you saw your sister again who immediately asked you how it worked. You still stood a bit away from the others as you told her about your training when you heard a voice. It was directed at Jake so didn’t turn around until the person came to a halt at Jacob’s side.

“Hey man, I saved you some burgers but if you don’t hurry Paul will-” 

The boy stopped in the middle of his sentence when you turned around and your eyes met. Your first thought was: “Holy shit, he’s cute”. Your second one was: “So that’s what imprinting feels like”. And your third was once again: “Holy shit.”

Butterflies started fluttering in your stomach and the heat rose to your cheeks as you looked at the boy in front of you with wide eyes who still hadn’t closed his mouth. 

To your luck Sam and Emily were still next to you and immediately understood what was happening. Sam suppressed a chuckle and introduced you to each other.

“(Y/N), this is Seth, the boy I told you about today. Seth, this is our newest pack-member, (Y/N).”  

You saw his mouth form your name before he stuttered out a “hi”. 

You willed your body to move again and said “hi” back just as stuttery. 

“Uh-uhm..”, Seth started and was once again saved by Emily. “Why don’t we go to the others already.” 

You nodded and then followed the other boy your age closely. What you didn’t notice was the pissed expression that had appeared on Jacob’s face. All of you was focused on Seth.

You sat next to each other and soon the gossip made it’s round so soon after Billy was finished with telling the first legend everyone knew what just happened. 

Leah, who Seth had introduced as his older sister, looked at you with narrowed eyes but didn’t do anything else. 

Throughout the evening your hands had brushed together a few times which had sparked the fluttering in your stomach everytime. And you had probably inched even closer together after some time too. 

It was a bit awkward at first but it didn’t change the fact that you felt comfortable sitting next to him while listening and laughing with the others. 

You were sad when saying goodbye but then Seth gave you his number and asked you to meet up tomorrow which you had agreed to almost too enthusiastically to not be embarrassed. It didn’t help that Bella giggled the entire ride home about her baby-brother having a crush. 

“Naw, you grow up so fast.”

“Ughhhhhh, please stop.”

Bella laughed while pulling into their driveway: “Never, that’s my job as your sister.”

“You’re horrible”, you said drily while she just continued giggling. 

But then she changed the mood quickly. “You decided to tell dad tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.. Billy and Sam are gonna be there too to answer questions. I’m still not the best at wolf-knowledge.”

“Mhm, it’ll be okay, don’t worry too much. If you want I can be there too.”

You nodded and earned yourself a short side-hug from Bella before you went to your rooms. 

—

You were close to emotional exhaustion after the conversation with your dad but it had a good outcome. Afterwards Edward picked up Bella and you went to meet up with Seth. Sam and Billy were so nice to take you with them to the Black’s home from where you would go to Seth. 

Billy went inside while you waved at him and went to go. 

But shortly before you arrived someone came to stand in your way. It was Jacob. And he didn’t seem to want to talk to you in a friendly way. 

You still tried to be nice; he was like Bella’s best friend so you really didn’t want to make him dislike you more than he apparently already did. 

“Why?!” 

You were perplexed when he almost spat it at you. You also didn’t have a chance to respond; he just continued talking.

“Why was it YOU?! Why did YOU shift?! It should’ve been Bella if anyone else were to shift at all! But no! It was YOU! If it had been Bella then she could imprint on me! But it was you! It doesn’t even make sense! Why would nature want YOU to be one of us?! You’re unable to do anything! You’re weak! And now you’re just supposed to protect others?! To protect Bella?! Hah!”

His accusations that in the end didn’t even really make sense but still hurt carried on. You didn’t actually hear anymore what he said. You were about to cry and just wanted to coil into yourself but at the same time you had to suppress the anger rising in you. Your whole body shook from the exhausting try to hold yourself together. A few tears escaped your eyes and Jacob was still not done, probably just repeating himself by now but that didn’t change the fact that he was more than angry. 

“Jacob! Stop!”, before you could register anything else a person appeared between you and the other. You felt relief wash over you immediately when you saw that it was Seth. 

“How dare you scream at him like that! Accusing him of being the source of your stupid self-centered problems! How dare you make him cry! Don’t you ever even come too close to him again!” 

Jake seemed to want to say something more but Seth turned to you, took your hand into his and gently pulled you with him. You only noticed that you were still shaking when Seth stopped after arriving at a clearing and pulled you into his arms. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing and Seth pulled you closer while you clutched his shirt in your hands. 

After you calmed down you whispered a “thank you” against his neck where you had hid your face. 

“Of course”, he whispered back, “nobody is allowed to talk to or about you like that. Nobody." His arms tightened around you again and you felt his face hide in your neck this time. You smiled when you noticed him taking a deep whiff of your scent and then place a kiss there.

[prettybillycore]

shot through the heart || ch.1 || billy hargrove x shelby!reader

Pairing(s): Shelby!Reader x Billy Hargrove, Minor Thomas Shelby x Grace Burgess

Universe: Peaky Blinders + Stranger Things

Summary: You, one of the younger members of the Shelby clan, are just trying to find your place in the world when suddenly you are shot. Instead of dying, you are flashed-forward in time to 1984 where you meet people who will change your life forever. Will you ever be able to return home? What caused you to time-travel in the first place?

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing

A/N: I know this one is in second place on the poll I’m doing, but I was just so excited about it I started with it. The one in first place is probably going to be a one or two shot where as this is definitely going to be a series so the first place winner should be out soon!

Read here below the cut or on AO3~!

Being a Shelby came with a lot of expectations. There was no way around that. Especially as a woman you felt the pressure of your last name pressing on your shoulders. Being one of the youngest in the Shelby clan didn’t help your situation. You were freshly sixteen and your brothers never let you forget it. It was only recently that you were allowed to start sitting in on family meetings; Tommy made sure of it once he felt like you were ready. Aunt Pol was against it. The tension between the two of them over it could be cut with a knife. Of course, that didn’t really matter at the current moment. “I called this meeting because I got

some news. From Ireland,” Arthur said as he drank from a flask, “Scud-Boat and Lovelock got back from Belfast last night. They were buying a stallion to cover their mares.” Arthur gestured at the two of them and they confirm this, he continues. “They were in a pub in the Shankhill

Road yesterday and there was a copper handing out these.”

You were handed a flyer, but before you could even begin reading it, John ripped it out of your hands, “If you’re over five feet and can fight, come to Birmingham.”

“They’re recruiting Protestant Irishmen to come over here as Specials,” Arthur said.

“To do what?” Your older sister asked. Though it seemed quite obvious to you. 

“To clean up the city, Ada,” Tommy replied. Exactly as you thought. “He’s a Chief Inspector. The last four years he’s been clearing the IRA out of Belfast…”

“How do you know so bloody much?” Arthur asked. This also seemed quite obvious to you. 

“‘Cause I asked the coppers on our payroll,” Tommy explained. Again, exactly as you thought. You might have been one of the youngest people in the room, but you weren’t dull. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Arthur questioned.

Tommy paused for a moment and pursed his lips. “I’m telling you.”

“So why are they sending him to Birmingham?” Aunt Pol asked. A silence fell over the room. Arthur takes a large swig of his drink. He clearly has no idea how to answer her question. Tommy steps up as the head of the meeting.

“There have been a lot of strikes at the Austen works and the BSA factory lately. Papers are talking about sedition. Revolution. I reckon it’s Communists he’s after,” Tommy and Aunt Pol look at each other intensely. You knew they were the real powerhouses of the family, despite Arthur being the oldest of you Shelby siblings. 

“So this copper will leave us alone, right?” Aunt Pol asked. 

“There are Irishmen in Green Lanes who left Belfast to get away from him. They say Catholic men who crossed him used to disappear in the night,” Tommy answered.

 You eyed John carefully. He was clearly very bothered by the idea of this copper coming to town. You weren’t exactly at ease with the idea either. “Yeah but we ain’t IRA. We bloody fought for the King. Anyway, we’re Peaky Blinders. We’re not scared of coppers. If they come for us, we’ll cut them a smile each.” 

“You’re right,” Arthur agreed. 

You notice the snickers of some of the younger men in the room, but what catches your eye the most is Tommy’s hand carefully balling up the flyer until it’s tightly spiraled in his palm. “So, Arthur, is that it?”

Arthur’s gaze moved around the room, “What do you think, Aunt Pol?”

She sighed, the cigarette in her hand was still smoldering. “This family does everything open. You have nothing more to say to this meeting, Thomas?”

“No…” His eyes flickered between you, Ada, and Aunt Pol, “Nothing that’s women’s business.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment. “This whole bloody enterprise was ‘women’s business’ while you boys were away at war. What’s changed?” Aunt Pol snapped.

“We came back,” Tommy answered honestly. With that, the meeting started to disperse and you let out a large breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. You looked toward the door and saw Finn peaking in from the other room, much like you used to do when you were younger. He backed away as soon as you made eye contact, but you still found it cute. That is, until you were drawn  back to reality. 

“I still don’t like you sitting in on these meetings, Y/n. It really would be best if you were to stay with Finn,” Aunt Pol scolded. You sunk down in your seat and rolled your eyes again. 

“Why must you insist on treating me like a child?” You asked. 

“Because you are one,” she answered.

“Leave her alone Polly. She helped out with the business while we were all gone in the war, it’s only right she gets a seat at the table now,” Tommy said, inserting himself into the conversation. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” you replied before turning your attention back to Aunt Pol. “I know I am young, but I am not a little kid like Finn. I am almost 18 now. You have to recognize that I am growing up, Aunt Polly. I deserve my seat at this table just as much as anyone else in this family.”

John and Arthur were snickering at you in the background. Aunt Pol hushed them with one dirty look. Her face did not soften when she looked back at you. “I know you want to help, but you have so many years ahead of you. You don’t have to be involved in the family business right now so why should you be? Why not wait as long as possible? You only picked up a gun for the first time last year and thank god you haven’t had to shoot anyone with it. You’re already in danger by being a Shelby, it only gets worse the more entangled you become with the business side of things.”

“I see your point Aunt Pol, but I’m not giving up my spot at this damn table after I just got it. You don’t give Ada a hard time and she’s sitting here.”

Ada shook her head. “Don’t bring me into this.”

“I will bring you into this if I damn well please,” you fired back. John was back to laughing, but you really weren’t sure what he was finding so funny about all of this. He was quieted down by a glare from Tommy. 

“You are a lot younger than Ada. I don’t think that’s a fair comparison,” Aunt Pol continued. “I have your best interest at heart, Y/n. I am only doing my best to look out for you in the long run.”

“I think leave it for now, Aunt Pol. This bickering is getting us nowhere,” Tommy interjected. Your voices hushed. Aunt Pol’s face had a look of annoyance written all over it. You were more frustrated than anything else. Everyone began to leave the room, the air a little heavier than before. 

| < ♥️ > |

You were laying on your stomach across Ada’s bed, your legs kicking the air without a care in the world. Your journal was open in front of you and a pen rested in one of your hands. Ada sat at a small vanity on the other side of the room. She was carefully applying a bit of makeup. It was much later now and the sun was getting ready to set. You were forbidden from going out at night except to change houses, while Ada could do whatever she pleased. You guessed she was going to do something Tommy wouldn’t approve of, you could feel it in your bones. “Who are you getting all dolled up to see?” You asked. You knew you might have to push a little bit to actually get her to tell you anything, but you still thought it was worth a try to ask.

Ada finished applying lipstick before she even thought about answering you. “It’s none of your business who I’m going to see.” She popped her lips together to spread around the product. “Just go back to writing in your journal. I’m sure you’ve got your eyes set on some boy you’ve met out and about.”

You made a ‘tsk’ sound with your teeth. “Yeah right, like that’s at all what I’m writing about in my journal. The only one in this room with her eyes on boys, is you, Ada!” You giggled and slammed your journal shut. You walked over to her and placed your hands on her shoulders. You looked at her in the mirror, “Come on, who are you going to see?”

Ada rolled her eyes at you. “You can’t tell anyone, yeah?”

“I swear on my life, this stays between you and me!” You stuck out your pinkie and she looked up at you. 

“Really? A pinkie promise?” Ada asked. 

“Yes. I pinkie promise I won’t tell a single soul who you’re going to see.” Ada’s face contorted into a soft smile as she grabbed your pinkie with hers. 

“Fine, fine. I’m going to see Freddie Thorne. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, but we’ve been keeping it a secret because you know how Tommy is. Not another soul can know. You hear me?”

“You can’t break a pinkie promise, Ada. It’s an unbreakable vow,” you replied before taking your hand back. “I never expected him to be your type, but good on you! I am glad you’ve found someone that makes you happy. I hope I find someone who makes me happy one day.”

You nearly mumbled the last part. You flopped back onto Ada’s bed, your back touching the mattress. “You will. You’re young yet, Y/n.”

“Why is there always talk of me being so young? Why can’t there be talk of how grown up I’ve gotten since the war?” You huffed, puffing every last bit of air out of your chest. 

Ada stood up from her chair and laughed lightly. “You’ve grown a lot, but you’ve still got a lot of growing to do. Come on, I’ll walk you home on my way to meet Freddie.”

“You don’t think Tommy will find it suspicious that you’re all dressed up to drop me at home?” You asked curiously as you sat up and began to gather your things. 

“Please, it’s too early for Tommy to be home. You’ll be lucky if he’s in before you fall asleep tonight,” She replied ruffling your hair. You knew she was right, Tommy was probably out at the pub. You were now old enough to set foot in bars, but your brothers all agreed that you should stay far away from all the bars in town except for the Garrison. Even with the exception, you were still only allowed to go there during the day time. This left you alone at night at home quite frequently since you lived with just Tommy. You’ve been living with him ever since he returned from war. You wouldn’t have it any other way, even if night time was sometimes scary and lonely. “Let’s go, I haven’t got all night,” Ada rushed you. 

You quickly gathered the rest of your things and threw them into your bag. “Ready!”

“Okay, let’s get you home.”

| < ♥️ > |

You woke up the next day expecting a quiet, normal morning. What you weren’t expecting was Arthur coming to your door, covered in blood. You frantically gathered the family. You met in your usual meeting room as Tommy went to go get a bottle of rum. Ada and Aunt Pol were about to start tending to Arthur’s wounds, but you couldn’t bare to watch. You were picking at the skin around your fingernails and biting the softest part of your lip hard enough that it started to bleed. Aunt Pol was wrapping Arthur’s finger while you leaned against a wall. “John, wipe the blood out of his eye.”

“Since when did you give orders?” John asked.

“I’m a trained nurse,” Ada replied.

“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts my face,” Arthur interjected. He was, in fact, laughing.

“I bloody am,” Ada continued.

“You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling,” John teased. 

“Not before learning how to stop somebody from choking,” Ada answered.

“I’m not bloody choking, am I?” Arthur shot back. 

“You will be when I wrap this cloth round your neck,” Ada said. The mood takes a downward shift as Tommy entered the room with a whole bottle of rum. 

“Let me see him,” he said walking up to Arthur. “Hmm. Well, have this.” He gave Arthur the bottle he was holding. Arthur takes a long drink before Tommy says, “Give me that,” and sets the bottle on the table in front of him. He take a hot, wet cloth and begins to clean Arthur’s skin. You dig your nails into your palms at the sound of Arthur’s painful moans. “You’re alright.”

“He said Mr Churchill sent him to Birmingham,” Arthur started. “National interest, he said. He said there’d been a robbery. He said he wants us to help him.”

“We don’t help coppers,” John stated flatly.

“He knew all about our war records. He said we’re patriots like him. He said he wants us to be his eyes and ears. I told him we’d have a family meeting and a vote. Why not? We have no truck with communists. Or Fenians.” Arthur stared at Tommy. Tommy said nothing, but is clearly off put by the idea of helping the new copper that has come to town. You could tell something else about this situation was bothering him too, you just couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it was. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Polly, what is wrong with him lately?”

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s Chemists,” Aunt Pol joked. Tommy grabbed his coat and left the meeting before anyone could take a vote. 

| < ♥️ > |

After everything in the morning with Arthur, you decided that you needed a drink. You were not one for drinking usually, that one was usually all your brothers, but something about this whole situation just screamed I need a glass of whsikey. So you found yourself in the Garrison in the late afternoon. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, so you were in the clear with Tommy’s rule about you only being there during the day. You walked in and all the eyes that turned toward the door quickly turned away, all except the eyes of a new barmaid that you did not recognize. You heard Harry, the owner of the bar, tell the new barmaid that whatever you wanted was on the house. You smiled politely at her as you pulled up a seat at the bar. You ordered a whiskey sour from her and as she handed you your drink you asked for her name. “Grace. My name is Grace.”

You smiled back at her and took a sip of your drink. “Y/n, Y/n Shelby. Lovely to meet you.”

| < ♥️ > |

Somewhere between the several whiskey sours you had and your new relationship with Grace you found yourself standing on one of the bar tables with her, singing. It was something that you use to do in school, before the war, but hadn’t done in such a long time. You were grinning such a wide grin that your cheeks were beginning to hurt. 

“I am just a young girl.

I have just come over,

Over from the country where they do things big,

And amongst the boys I have got myself a lover,

And since I have a lover,

I don’t care a fig.

The boy I love is up in the gallery 

The boy I love is looking–”

You stopped singing when you noticed Tommy come in the door with your brothers. You suddenly felt very exposed standing high up on a table. 

“At me

Can’t you see him standing there?

Waving his handkerchief

As merry as a robin that sings on the tree.” Grace finished the song by herself. You felt bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anymore words. The grin was gone from your rosey cheeks. It was replaced by a sorry frown aimed toward your shoes. 

Harry walked over to Tommy, “We haven’t had singing in here since the war.”

“Why do you think that is, Harry?” Tommy spoke plainly. “Y/n, it’s dark outside. Time to go home for the night.” You nodded. Tommy walked over and gave you a hand off the table. Your feet being on the ground again felt like you were standing a boat. The alcohol in your system was way more than you were use to. “Jesus how much did you drink?” Tommy mumbled. You tossed some “sorrys” in his direction, but he wasn’t listening. He just headed out the door to take you home. 

| < ♥️ > |

Monday came before you even realized it had. You spent the rest of your weekend recovering from the time you had at the bar. You were feeling bright and well Monday afternoon and were hanging around where your family normally does business when Arthur came yelling for Tommy. “It bloody won!” Tommy is unphased by Arthur’s sudden appearance in front of him. You were sitting across from Tommy, just present to take in the whole interaction. “Monaghan Boy bloody won!”

“And word will spread. So next time we do the powder trick it won’t just be the Garrison that’ll bet on the horse, it’ll be the whole of Small Heath. And you know what? The horse will win again. And the third time we do it we’ll have the whole of Birmingham betting on it. A thousand quid bet on the magic horse. And that time, when we are ready, the horse will lose.” Tommy snapped the book in front of him shut. “Think about it.” You and Arthur looked at each other as Tommy left the room. “Bloody hell.”

-TO BE CONTINUED-

_____________________________________

TAGS: @tatumrileyslover @rubybinxx @haleypearce

[skeletorrito]

new satosugu fluff snippet !!! I love these dorks as goofy teens haha

“It’s already your birthday next week, Satoru. What are you hoping to get?”

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto lounged in Suguru’s dorm, snacking on the dango that Satoru brought over to him. Suguru preferred to hang out in his room, rather than his teammate’s, because he didn’t have to watch his step tiptoeing over wrappers and cans on the floor. Even in their third year, Satoru still struggled to clean his own room after years and years of maids constantly picking up after him. Suguru tried to help, but Satoru was still a messy brat all the same.

Satoru chewed as he considered the question. “Honestly…” he swallowed. “I just wanna make out with somebody.” It was the only thing that came to mind and he just… blurted it out. He blushed as soon as it left his lips, shutting them tight in a weird smile. He could have just made up anything, literally anything other normal birthday gift, but realistically what else could he possibly need or want that he didn’t already have? 

“Oh,” Suguru coughed out in a laugh, wide-eyed with a shocked look on his face. That definitely wasn’t the answer he expected. 

There was a long pause followed by awkward laughter. Both boys flushed, gazes diverting anywhere but each other. 

“Do you… have someone in mind?” Suguru asked, attempting to hide the curiosity and desperation in his voice.  

“Yeah but…” Satoru started, scratching the back of his neck. Seriously, why couldn’t he just keep his big mouth shut?! It didn’t help that Suguru could sometimes, somehow with his social superpowers, tell when he was lying. “I’m not telling. You’ll have to guess.” 

Suguru put his hand to his chin. This was… new. They’d chatted about girls in passing, sharing photos and giggling, but never seriously. They didn’t have much time for that with missions and school, especially not in their third year. “Oh. I know. Mei Mei.”

Satoru snorted, replying, “Eh, she’s hot, but she’s not really my type.” 

Seriously, shut the fuck up.

This piqued Suguru’s interest. He smirked a little deviously, leaning in. “Oh? Satoru Gojo has a type?” He asked, pulling another dango off the stick with his teeth. 

You. You’re my type. 

“Oh you know…” Satoru trailed off for a moment, trying to figure out how to be as vague as possible with this answer. “Dark hair, dark eyes, skinny waist…” 

Satoru was really burying himself in a hole with this one. 

He flushed brightly, biting the inside of his cheek. He devoured the last dango stick in one bite, lest he expose himself anymore.

Suguru’s hopes were slightly dashed at that last part. Surely, Satoru was referring to a woman with that skinny waist comment. He checked all the boxes for sure, but… was being a man with a small waist even considered attractive? Was Satoru even interested in men? 

Would he even be interested in me in… that way?

“Hmm… Utahime?” 

Satoru pretended to vomit with that guess. “Ew, as if. She’s annoying.”

Suguru continued to mull it over when Satoru interjected quickly, “Ah, it’s stupid, just a joke anyway, really, forget about it. Let’s all go out to eat on my birthday, I’d never say no to some good food.”  

They dropped the subject and started discussing dinner plans for next Saturday, but Suguru couldn’t help but continue wondering. 

Who did Satoru want to kiss? 

Was it me? Could it ever be me?

No, that was crazy. That was a pipe dream. 

They were best friends. Best friends didn’t kiss, and making out was way out of the question. Maybe best friends played with each other’s hair or held hands sometimes, but a kiss? A kiss was taking it too far. 

A kiss would mean they were so much more than best friends. 

Read the rest here:

[starwarsmum]

Maribat Mix Match Monster Mash day 6, I'll Kill You Either Way & Shadow

Marinette was part of a group of older magic users. She had been working with the Justice League Dark on and off for the past couple of years, ever since she had turned nineteen. She was by far the youngest member, but that didn't mean she was the weakest. 

In fact, she was well known as one of the powerhouses of the magical world, all because she was the conduit of Creation. She had had quite a difficult time juggling the various duties that came with being a recognised and respected magic wielder alongside her separate and growing reputation as a fashion designer. 

“Hey LB, we got a request from the bat crew to take a look at a problem they're having,” Zatanna said, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. “Are you free?”

“Yeah, just give me…one…minute…okay, yes, I'm done,” Marinette said, closing the book she was reading with a flourish and turning to face the older magic user. “Who's having a problem with what now?”

“Apparently one of Batman’s crew is having a problem with Spectre, and they need one of us to help out,” she replied, talking too casually. Marinette was instantly wary and gave Zatanna a hard look. The woman gave her a wince in return and her shoulders slumped slightly. “Look, they need one of us and you're the newest and one of our most effective magic wielders.”

“So I'm getting to deal with the bats - who hate magic wielders - because I don't have a history with them?” She tugged anxiously on a pigtail, worrying her lil between her teeth. “Why am I getting punished for being new?”

“No, I know, but honestly can you see Constantine trying to help them? Besides, the Bat in question is the youngest and we thought you'd relate better with him, given your own age.”

“...this is about Stabby? And you said Spectre, isn't he in the business of universal balance?” Marinette was beyond curious now, and confused when Zatanna nodded. “Okay, so you want me to go against someone who has the balance of the universe as his guide for the most violent Robin we've ever had because…?”

“Because he's not a bad person. When he was a kid, he lived with bad people that taught and trained him to do bad things, but he's grown since then,” Zatanna said, sounding passionate and earnest. Marinette could feel her resistance crumbling and sighed before relenting. 

“Okay, fine, but they start getting fussy about the whole magic thing and I'm lodging a complaint,” she said sternly. “When are the bats expecting me to meet with them?”

“Er, as soon as possible? They've sequestered Señor Stabby on the Watchtower, so as soon as you're ready we'll head on up.”

_ _ _

Marinette could count on one hand the number of times she had been on the Watchtower before now and none of them had been happy times. Every time, it had been one of the innumerable bats who had made her regret attending, blatantly annoyed that they didn't have her identity. 

So she was disgruntled to be back, and to help them no less. The only reason she hadn't outright refused was because the latest Robin had been semi-respectful of her wishes and always admonished the others when possible. Well, not Batman, but anyone else? He would shut down the invasive questions if he was in earshot.

Really, if it hadn't been for his harsh demeanour she would have wanted to befriend the young man. But he had been blunt and dismissive of her as a hero, even as he respected her privacy. Whenever he had accidentally complimented her - and it was obviously never done on purpose - he followed it up with a cutting remark about her shortcomings.

Stepping into the meeting room after Zatanna, Marinette gave a weak smile that probably came across as a grimace. She was still short enough that people didn't automatically notice her when she walked in behind someone else, in spite of the spandex suit. But the moment the big bad Bat himself noticed her he started objecting.

“Zatanna, what is Ladybug doing here? I thought you were aware of how grave a situation this was,” he said in his growling voice. Marinette coughed to cover up the snort that escaped her at his almost pun. It didn't go unnoticed. “She isn't even taking this seriously!”

“Oh come on, you cannot say things like ‘grave’ when we are discussing the Spectre and not expect someone to find the humour,” she insisted, feeling justified when the blue one, Nightwing, gave a stressed giggle. “See? But if you do not wish for my assistance, I understand and will be on my way.”

“Tt, that is not necessary,” Robin said, glaring at Batman in warning. “I apologise on behalf of my father, he is concerned for my well-being and it makes him unnecessarily combative.”

“...father?” Marinette was stunned and trying to maintain some semblance of calm as Batman gave Robin an exasperated look. Putting a pin in that, Marinette tried to regain a professional air. “Okay, whatever, I don't even want to try and unpack all of that. If you want my assistance I'm more than willing under the condition that nobody attempts to uncover my identity as a result of said help.”

“You would put your conditions ahead of the safety of another vigilante?” Red Robin said, clearly thinking it was a smart observation. Marinette merely raised an eyebrow which was, sadly, hidden behind her mask.

“You would put your curiosity ahead of the safety of your teammate?” she shot back, cocking a hand onto her hip and waiting as the young man flushed. “Yes, I am putting my safety first because believe it or not, I value my life, not to mention valuing the safety of the magic within my purview. If you want my help, you will follow my rules or face consequences.”

A short silence followed her statement but the bats eventually agreed. She listened carefully as they outlined the problem they were facing and Marinette grew more concerned the longer they spoke. She had heard of Spectre and knew that he was relatively single minded in his quest for justice.

Finally, they all agreed that Marinette and Robin would be holing up in a flat in Gotham until the threat was neutralised. While the idea of living with the youngest of the Gotham vigilantes filled her with anxiety, she was determined to help. Besides, she knew Zatanna had a couple of tricks up her sleeve that could help protect her identity.

_ _ _

“Thank you, for agreeing to help me,” Robin said as they set up the kitchen. Marinette made a non-committal grunt as she stowed different ingredients in their cupboards and refrigerator. They had portalled in as Pegabug and Robin from the WatchTower, and Marinette was making trips back and forth from her home in Paris.

When she was finally done, she turned to face Robin to lay some ground rules. So she was more than a little surprised when she faced him and he was missing his mask. She flushed as she got caught in the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen.

“I thought it would be expedient to get this over with,” he said after an awkward silence. 

“Right, of course,” she said, tearing her gaze away. Calling for her detransformation, she felt the wash of magic as it rolled away from her. She held out a hand to him and tried to will calm into her voice. “You can call me Bridgette, if you want.”

Damian relaxed slightly as he took in the young woman before him. She was short, with mousy brown hair and hazel eyes. She looked to be of Indian descent and was looking at him nervously. He felt an absurd amount of relief that she was not as appealing to him now that she did not have gorgeous wide blue eyes, and black hair that gleamed blue in certain lights. He was unsure how he would have handled the close quarters with Ladybug if she had been as attractive as a civilian.

“You may call me Damian,” he answered. “I assume we will be able to stay relatively separate during our stay here, but in case it is relevant, I am a vegetarian.”

“Oh, cool, that's good to know,” Bridgette said, her voice a lot lower than it was as Ladybug.

Over the next couple of days, Damian and Bridgette settled into a comfortable routine. Bridgette would go out in her civilian form to get food and other household necessities, and Damian remained inside at all hours of the day. Whenever she was gone, he found himself more on edge, suspicious of every dark corner and empty room.

It was very domestic, and frustrating for Damian, but he had to admit that he didn't dislike her company. All of the qualities that he admired in Ladybug shone through, and he found that he gravitated towards her. She would ask him questions about why Spectre was after him, and make plans to help capture their adversary so that she could keep him safe.

On the third day of containment, Bridgette mentioned that they should probably make a plan for if Spectre found them in their temporary abode. As she discussed an evacuation plan which involved him using Kaalki - a miniature horse that powered the Miraculous of teleportation - a small red bug-thing floated in Bridgette's face.

“Guardian, is it really wise of you to share so much information with him?” The tiny thing squeaked, and Damian had to work very hard not to jump. Bridgette gave the creature assurances, although Damian wasn't sure what he had done to earn her trust.

At their shared meal that evening Bridgette mentioned that she would need to leave the following afternoon, and gave him a phone number to contact her on if something happened whilst she was away. 

_ _ _

On the day after her trip back to Paris for a fashion show, Marinette felt like she was drained both physically and mentally. The amulet that changed her appearance and voice used her own powers to fuel it. She needed to end the threat of Spectre before it went too far and she ended up a liability instead of a help.

“What do you think to showing up somewhere you're supposed to be as a civilian to draw him out,” Marinette asked while they were watching television. She tried to force down a blush when he turned and looked at her, cursing his attractiveness. “Because I don't know about you, but I have real life things to be doing. And as lovely as this has been, it's not really sustainable long term.”

“This has been enjoyable for you as well?” Damian asked, head tilting slightly. He had a pleased look on his face and she bit her lip to stop herself from agreeing too fervently. “I can see the point of it, we would just need to be cautious of any civilians becoming involved.”

They quickly discussed all of the places Damian was supposed to be in the next couple of days and settled on his work at an animal shelter as being least likely to have collateral damage. That meant they had twenty-six hours to make the plan as foolproof as possible, and Marinette was determined to get this right.

_ _ _

Watching Damian interact with the animals at the shelter was the last straw. Marinette could handle his polite manner. She could handle the respectful way he managed their close quarters. She could just about handle the admiration she could hear in his voice when they were discussing strategies.

But this green-eyed, tall, muscled man, who happened to be her age, talking softly to a blind dog so he didn't spook it? Letting it sniff his hand and lean into it so he could pet it? The way he calmed down animals before giving them necessary medications and comforting them afterwards? It was too much and she had to admit - to herself, no-one else - that he was perfect.

She felt guilt gnawing at her insides for deceiving him with Zatanna’s amulet, but she sure as hell hadn't wanted to give him her identity up front. But now…if the mess with Spectre got straightened out, she could see herself pursuing something more with this man.

About two hours into the night shift that Damian was taking, Spectre appeared. Marinette felt when the man entered the shelter and called for her transformation. She shoved Kaalki at Damian and made him transform as well. 

“You cannot hide him from me,” came a deep voice, and Marinette swung around to keep herself between the two. “Damian Al Ghul-Wayne’s crimes are numerous and I will kill him either way. He must pay for the crimes he has committed in his youth.”

“You're not touching him while I'm here,” she snarled back at him, swinging her yoyo in a wide arc. “Damian may have committed crimes in his youth, but he is not that person anymore. And it is my understanding that he was led astray by others during that time. We cannot punish the man for a child's mistakes when they were forced upon him by his guardians.”

“He is a murderer,” Spectre rumbled, his hood obscuring his eyes as Marinette stared at him. “He is an assassin and ended the lives of many with no remorse.”

“He is remorseful,” Marinette declared. “Damian Al Ghul-Wayne is a changed man, I swear it upon my own honour as Ladybug, superheroine of Paris and Guardian of the Miraculous.”

“You would forfeit your own soul alongside his, should he fail?” The sentence cut through her but she refused to waver. When she nodded, Spectre paused before withdrawing slightly. “Very well. I shall be monitoring you, Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, and if you should return to your previous nature, both yours and Ladybug's lives are forfeit.”

_ _ _

“Well that was a little anticlimactic,” Marinette said once they were safely back in their shared apartment the next morning. “I thought there would be a fight, or something. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we don't have to take on someone so powerful, but it almost feels like it was too easy.”

“You think it a light measure that you have bound your fate to mine?” Damian asked, eyebrows raised. 

“Well it's not like you're going to go out and turn to a life of crime now, is it?” She retorted, rolling her eyes. They were sitting together on the sofa they had shared for the past week. “Just keep doing your thing and we'll be fine.”

He paused before leaning towards her and speaking in a low voice. “Perhaps we should…continue to spend time together. So that you can be sure that I do not cross any lines.”

Heat tingled up her spine as she also leaned forward, their breath mingling. She wasn't sure who closed the distance but their lips met in a soft kiss. It was gentle and warm, not dispassionate but nor was it a searing kiss.

When they pulled apart, her eyes fluttered open again, almost immediately getting caught by his green ones. He moved in once more but she pressed her forefinger to his lips to make him pause.

“Before we go any further, I have to-”

“Ladybug, wait!” Marinette jumped as Tikki streaked into the room, looking at her Kwami bewilderedly. Damian looked annoyed but not angry. “You should leave your amulet in place, guardian, he has been tricking you.”

“What do you mean-”

There was a banging on the door and Marinette looked at it, confused. Hardly anyone knew who lived in this apartment, and nobody from Marinette's life. Damian tensed further when they heard a familiar growling voice demand to be let in.

“Hello, Batman, to what do I owe this…pleasure?” Marinette asked, anxiety and worry building in her gut. The feeling strengthened when he didn't seem surprised by her appearance.

“They were spying on you, Ladybug,” Tikki said immediately, holding out a tiny electronic device. Marinette took it, a cold spreading through her as she turned it in her hands. “That device was embedded in the door. I apologise that I did not find it sooner, Guardian.”

“We put in safety measures to ensure that our teammate would remain unharmed,” Batman growled at Tikki. Marinette felt her hackles raise immediately, and she pinned Damian with a glare. “But since we are on the subject, what are you hiding that you needed to use magic to disguise your identity? There is nobody of your description ever having lived in Paris.”

“You thought I would take no precautions because you told me you wouldn't pry?” Marinette asked derisively as she strode towards the door, heart aching. She had thought that Damian had been sincere, that he was a good person. She had put her own soul in jeopardy to vouch for him and she squashed the bitter thought that she shouldn't have. “I hope that your curiosity was worth it, messieurs, do not ask me for favours in future.”

Damian watched Ladybug stalk out of the building and wanted to follow, to explain that he had had no part in this treachery. She stopped in the doorway to deliver her parting line and she looked directly at him. His breath caught at the utter betrayal in her eyes.

And then she was gone, the door closing heartbreakingly softly behind her. The apartment they had been sharing for the past week - had it only been a week? - instantly seemed duller without her. He finally turned to look at his family, all of whom were in some degree of panic.

“-walked out on this assignment, we should revoke her Justice League membership,” Tim was arguing. “And we'll need to have someone come and take over, move him to a more secure location-”

“We will deal with that momentarily, she knows our identities, she's a risk,” Bruce was saying, evidently frustrated with how this had played out. “We will all have to be in more secure locations in case she decides to share that information-”

“I am not at risk,” Damian said quietly. “Bri- Ladybug has already secured my safety and Spectre has been dealt with. You have destroyed any possibility of having her as an ally and you risked my own life to do it.”

“She would never have walked out on a job half-finished,” Dick said immediately. The others nodded in agreement, but Damian snarled at them.

“If that is the case then you had no reason to worry about finding her identity,” he hissed, anger getting the better of him. “Either she is trustworthy enough to have been allowed her privacy, or she is a dangerous anomaly and you risked my life to try and get information about her. You cannot have it both ways.”

Unable to bear the guilty looks of his family, nor the empty feeling that hollowed his gut, Damian stalked out of the apartment as well.

_ _ _

The past two months had been tense. And brutal. And Damian wasn't sure how he was supposed to return to his normal life after everything that had happened with and because of Ladybug. The relationship with his family was strained, although they were slowly building trust back.

A few days after everything had happened, Zatanna had stormed the Watchtower to speak with Batman. She had sworn and raged, ripping into the Justice League founder as she detailed exactly how badly they had messed up. His father had tried to defend his actions but Zatanna had coldly informed them that there was no need to find her identity any longer because Ladybug had resigned from the Justice League Dark.

“Two entire years of working with her, gaining her trust and getting her to agree that working with us was in the world's best interests, and you absolute boneheads screw us over in a week!” She screamed. “So thank you for that! You are damned lucky she resolved your issue with Spectre before she left, because I'm not sure I would bother!”

Looking back on the interaction hurt as he got ready for the annual Halloween gala. He had promised to attend on the premise that he would not need to attend another until Christmas, but he was regretting it today. There was supposed to be a family friend in attendance which was why Bruce had insisted he be there, for their public image.

The gala started much as it always did - loud and filled with obnoxious people. He saw a lot of the usual crowd and gave brief greetings as he worked his way to his favourite corner. It wasn't unusual for the youngest Wayne not to mingle and he was ever more grateful for his outward persona.

He scanned the crowd once more and saw his family chatting with a loud purple haired man who was practically hanging off of Bruce's arm. He grit his teeth before deciding that greeting the ‘old school friend’ of Bruce's would be best done sooner rather than later.

As he approached, he saw a stunningly attractive young woman standing next to the purple haired man. She looked bored, with an underlying discomfort or sadness that resonated within him. He watched as she was introduced to each of his brothers and sisters, her head nodding every now and then.

“Ah, and here's my youngest!” Bruce said with forced cheer. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, this is my son, Damian. Damian, this is my friend Jagged Stone and his niece, Marinette.”

“Good evening,” Damian said, trying to keep his voice cordial. This woman had no idea that he was angry with his family and she didn't deserve to have his anger directed at her.

Strangely, the moment he spoke she froze. He could see the tenseness in her shoulders before she turned to look at him, and she seemed to pale as she looked at his face. She whispered a quiet hello but turned around just as abruptly. 

Damian was confused by the dismissal but decided to take advantage, giving a curt farewell to his family and informing them that he would be leaving soon to get an early night.

Bruce frowned after Damian, already turning to apologise to his guests. Marinette seemed shaken by his rudeness and he didn't want to mortally offend her. “He doesn't socialise well normally, but he is a little miffed with us currently,” he explained, making sure to look appropriately charming and dejected.

“Oh no, mate, what happened?” Jagged said, sounding concerned. Marinette looked curious but also wary - for what reason, Bruce couldn't tell.

“We had a difference in opinion during a recent stalker issue,” Bruce said smoothly. “We had to hire an unknown bodyguard and to keep him safe we kept an eye on them. He decided that meant we didn't trust him, but honestly we're mostly just glad that he's still around to be mad at us.”

“I'm sorry, I must excuse myself,” Marinette said suddenly, giving them all a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Bruce nodded but she moved away from them hastily. Jagged watched her go with a furrow in his brow and Bruce asked if everything was alright.

“Yeah, I'm fine, just worried about Nettie,” the rockstar said. “She's been in a funk for a while now and I was hoping that coming out tonight would help.”

“Marinette will be fine,” Jagged's partner, Penny, said as she joined them. She gave Jagged a kiss on the cheek before continuing. “I'm pretty sure she's nursing a broken heart, you know what rotten luck she has with boyfriends.”

“But that's just it, she hasn't had a boyfriend since that whole thing with Henry!” The pair began to bicker and Bruce began to zone out from it.

Meanwhile Marinette was walking quickly after Damian. She had recognised him instantly, just the sound of his voice making her heart pound and mouth dry. When he had stormed off, she had been relieved, at least until Bruce (Batman, she thought absently) had jovially commented that Damian hadn't actually been a part of the complete violation of her trust.

She caught sight again of his broad shoulders at the bar. She slid next to him cautiously, ordering her own drink. He didn't seem startled when she appeared but he did seem curious. She turned and smiled at him nervously, more a quirk of her lips than a true smile.

“I believed that I had made a poor first impression,” he remarked after his drink arrived. She felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight again and stared at her hands, shrugging. “Apologies, I do not mean to be rude but…why did you follow me to the bar?”

“Maybe I just wanted to get a drink,” Marinette replied, daring to glance at him. She thanked the bar staff as her drink was handed to her and she turned fully towards the man who had so thoroughly enchanted her before. He looked at her sceptically and she chuckled drily. “Or maybe your father mentioned that you were mad at your family for something and it made me curious about your side of things.”

“Tt, my father should not have mentioned it,” Damian said, glaring at his own drink. Hope fluttered in Marinette's veins, her hands tightening around her glass. “My family is incapable of trusting my judgment and have destroyed my reputation with someone I care deeply for. They have earned my ire, even if they believe differently.”

“How did they destroy your reputation?” Marinette asked quietly, looking up at him and getting caught in the same green eyes that had been haunting her for the past two months. He seemed to hesitate so she motioned with her head for him to follow her. “Maybe we could step onto the balcony?”

Damian didn't know why he was talking to this woman. He didn't know why he was following her to the empty balcony, but he felt at ease with her. Perhaps it was because she had similar features to Ladybug, her blue eyes and dark hair making him ache in a familiar way.

“My father hired a security guard for a recent problem I had,” he said, wanting to present his side clinically. He wanted this woman to agree that he was right, that he hadn't overreacted to the absolute invasion of privacy. So he launched into a fairly precise recounting of the issue, only omitting the magical aspects.

“And the timing of the revelation meant that she believed me to be party to the deception,” he said hollowly. Marinette seemed to be shocked by the story and he regretted being quite so open with everything. He was ready to apologise for his forwardness when she blew out a breath.

“I mean, in my defense, you looked really guilty,” she said, grimacing. He frowned at her, not quite sure what she was saying. “And I was about to take the charm I was wearing off and tell you my actual name when Tikki stopped us.”

“...Ladybug?” He whispered, setting his glass on the balcony rail as he turned to look at her fully. She nodded and he felt like he was short-circuiting. She seemed to hesitate at his lack of reaction and he immediately grabbed her upper arms. She held still as he let his eyes sweep her face.

“Surprise? Sorry, I know you probably would have preferred I just stayed out of your-”

She was cut off by his mouth covering hers, his hand cupping her cheek almost possessively. She reached up to twine her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush against him. In between kisses, he murmured soft apologies, his other hand pressing firmly against her lower back.

They eventually broke apart, and Damian thanked whatever gods had made him choose the dark corner of the balcony for their conversation, because they were completely hidden from the ballroom. She looked up at him in the dark and he found himself memorising the lines of her face anew. 

A sudden loud noise from the ballroom made them both jump, though not enough to let go of each other. They edged towards the doorway of the balcony and relaxed when they realised it was just Jagged Stone starting a set for the gala.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Damian said softly, reaching for her again. 

“I mean, that was the plan,” she admitted begrudgingly. “And if I'd known who you were, I probably would have told Jagged I had to miss this party. But I'm really glad I came.”

“You didn't know who I was?” Damian asked, confused and a little stunned. “But Spectre gave you my full name, how could you not know who I was? Not to mention that I am fairly famous.”

“I mean, in Gotham, sure,” Marinette said teasingly, hand coming up to run through his hair. “But I'm from France? And I only really follow fashion, so you weren't familiar to me on sight.”

He fell quiet and leaned into her touch. His arms circled around her waist again and pulled her flush against him. He was slightly overwhelmed by the circumstances but relieved that he had found her again. She pulled lightly on his hair as her fingers ran through it and he sighed, content.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 49: Strain Your Memory

Chapter from ongoing fic Forms of Imprisonment. Full story on AO3

Pairing: Spawn Astarion (post-tadpole) x OFC

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+, mdni. Brief allusion to history of SA, forced restraint See AO3 for other chapter-specific warnings.

“Astarion…hey.”

Wyll is nudging his shoulder when he wakes from his trance, still slumped against the wall by the stairs. Gale lingers on the top step,  holding a tray full of breakfast, presumably for Celeste.

“I didn’t even think, Astarion,” the wizard says sympathetically, “You would have been more than welcome on the couch or...”

He shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet. He feels weary, hollow. 

“I’ve tranced in worse places. How is she?”

“I’m about to find out.” Gale says.

“Do try to keep your hands and mouths to yourselves,” Astarion grumbles. “Without her memories, she seems to have resorted to seduction.”

“So let me get this straight, because the Sharrans seem to only have tampered with recent history in her mind, she still remembers you from when you were younger?” Wyll asks Gale.  

“Lucky, isn’t he?” Astarion doesn’t hate Gale for it, not really, but Celeste’s hostility towards him the previous evening had taken its toll. He crosses his arms and leans back against the banister.

“We’ll get her back.” Gale assures him, before disappearing inside the room.

Astarion purses his lips and nods, the wizard’s hope barely penetrating in his pessimism.

“This must be hard for you…” Wyll begins. 

“I’ll manage.” Astarion snaps, before pressing his ear to the bedroom door, listening for snippets of conversation, but it’s difficult to make anything out without vampiric hearing. 

“Gale! Praise the gods. Please, let me out.” 

“Celeste.” Gale’s voice is stern but gentle. “I can’t do that.”

“I won’t hurt you - I won’t hurt any of you. Just let me go. Let me return to Lady Shar in peace.”

“There’s a lot you don’t remember.” Gale says. “And even more memories Shar has altered..what do you remember of your parents?”

“They were killed by rogue Sharrans, because my father betrayed our goddess.” She says. “It was terrible, but he should have known better…”

“And you blame him for what happened?”

“Of course. If he’d never turned his back on the Dark Lady, but…I think he was sick. Selûne poisoned him against Shar. And my mother…perhaps if my father had more time to convince her of Shar’s wisdom…”

Astarion’s nose wrinkles in disgust. This isn’t her. He can hear it in her voice, the cold, fanatic devotion that he knows is not her own.

“You have Selûnite blood.” Gale says. “Why are you so quick to claim Shar as your goddess?”

Thank the gods for his endless patience, Astarion thinks to himself. 

Celeste pauses, seemingly deep in thought.

“She saved me. When the Harper’s abandoned me, Keresta and the Sharrans gave me a place to stay. Helped me go to university, kept me hidden from Selûnites…” she wrinkles her nose “until Selûne sent that vampire to test my faith.”

Astarion frowns, and Wyll joins him to eavesdrop. 

Gale laughs. “He wasn’t sent by Selûne, Celeste. I promise you. If you had your memories, you’d realize how preposterous that statement is.”

“He turned on Keresta, you know. He came to us and I believed him and he turned on her!” Celeste says. “I won’t make that mistake again.

Astarion winces on the other side of the door, not liking where this is going.

“Celeste, he went to Keresta to save you. How can you think Astarion had bad intentions? Keresta tied you in a cellar! He freed you.”

“Is that any different from what you’re doing to me now?” She asks, “Gale, you could free me. I know you’re with that cleric, but…maybe we can convince her to reject Selûne, too. Return to the Dark Lady. That tiefling too…”

“I need you to drink this, Celeste. It will inhibit your powers for some time, but I’ll at least be able to untie you so you can be more comfortable.” Gale says, effectively silencing her fanatical ranting.

“If it will earn me freedom from this chair...” she consents. “You will release me from this room eventually, right?”

“Yes.” Astarion can hear the lie in Gale’s voice.

There’s a brief sound of shuffling and cutting of rope. Astarion presses his ear closer to the door, trying to hear anything else, as Gale pulls it open, his eyebrows raised in surprise as Astarion and Wyll pitch forward into him. Behind the wizard, Celeste rubs her wrists, still seated in the chair, giving Astarion a nasty glare.

Gale shuts the door behind him and places an arcane lock over it. 

“I take it you’ve heard?” He asks Astarion and Wyll with a grim look. 

Astarion’s jaw sets in annoyance. 

“Every word.” He mumbles. “How long will that stuff last?”

“A day. Enough time for me to brew another. In the meantime, we need to find some Noblestalk - more than what Shadowheart has leftover. She already tried to remove any curse set on Celeste, but it appears that’s not the root of her…condition.”

“Do you have any connections?” Astarion says, pushing himself off the wall.

“I may have to meet with Halaster again. I should probably tell him about Shovel as well…”

Astarion recalls the grisly sight of the quasit’s head rolling across the ground. Wyll had dug a shallow hole in the yard and buried the creature while they took Celeste inside, and he almost felt a pang of sympathy for it. 

“Is it safe to venture into the Undermountain again?” Wyll asks. 

“Halaster showed me paths on that map no one knows about. But we’ll take everyone to be safe in numbers. Astarion, Shadowheart and Nocturne can stay behind.” Gale says, gazing at him, “Between you three, hopefully you can get through to her…”

Astarion looks at the shut door across the hall. “I’ll…try.”

His musings are interrupted by the sound of a crash from the den, the front door sounding as if it had been ripped off the hinges all together. The three men exchange panicked looks before hurriedly descending the stairs. 

“What have you done!?” Aylin’s voice bellows through the house.

“You told her?” Astarion asks Gale, sliding his palm across his face with a groan.

“Sending spell. She needed to know. We were supposed to ambush the Sharrans today.” 

The doors to their companions’ rooms creak open in time for everyone to stumble out, joining them to greet the aasimar, all in various states of undress and bleary-eyed.

Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a frustrated sigh. “This isn’t the best time. We have a…situation to deal with.”

“I am well aware. So fix it, Shadow. Did my mother not bestow her gifts upon you? Did she not task you with protecting her granddaughter from harm?”

Astarion clenches his jaw, irritated by the accusation.

“She ran out there prepared for a fight. We tried to stop her!”

“And you failed.” Aylin says. 

“Aylin…” Isobel cautions, “he’s grieving.”

“You think I like this?” Astarion demands. “I don’t. I loathe seeing her this way, hearing her spout Shar’s dogmatic shit all day!”

“Easy there, soldier…” Karlach says, placing a hand on Astarion’s shoulder. 

Aylin schools her expression into one of more sympathetic determination. “Do you have a plan?” 

Astarion lets out a slow breath, bringing his volume back down.

“Noblestalk.”

“It’s the best shot we have, at present,” Shadowheart says.

“A good start.” Isobel says encouragingly. “Selûne’s magic can’t touch her in this state. Whatever they’ve done, we can’t help her until she’s willing to allow the Moonmaiden in again.”

“And what if we can’t reverse this?” Astarion’s voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable. “What if she’s trapped in the Shar’s grasp? What if we can’t…save her?”

“Astarion, it took immense effort to keep me under Shar’s influence.” Shadowheart assures him. “They manipulated her mind once. She’ll come back. Thank the gods they didn’t force her before a Mirror of Loss…”

“There’s no guarantee we’ll get all of her memories,” Nocturne says, “but she’s still her. You two have centuries to aid her in finding herself again.”

Astarion recoils at the suggestion.

“Let’s get this mushroom, then.” Minthara says, “it’s our only lead.”

“We will check at the Selûnite temple for solutions. Convene with the Moonmaiden. Perhaps there’s something we’re missing..” Isobel says.

Astarion nods. It’s not a solution yet, but it’s a plan, and it’s something for him to hold on to. 

“Be safe.” Shadowheart says to Isobel and Aylin, as they turn to leave, abandoning the door the aasimar wrecked on her way in. 

Gale hands Shadowheart a bundle of scrolls and a potion. 

“Use these for removing and reinstating the arcane lock. There’s a permanent ward on the window to keep her in, and a few scrolls of hold person should things come to it.” 

“I hope we won’t need these.” She murmurs, looking nervously up the stairs.

“Astarion, you should go speak with her first.” Nocturne says, “see if you can make any progress.”

“Because that went so well last time.” He says under his breath and climbs the stairs begrudgingly. 

“Just don’t let her near any black hair dye while we’re gone!” Shadowheart calls after him. “Took a divine intervention to get it out of my hair…” he hears the cleric mutter to herself.

———————————————————————

Celeste is lying on the bed, her breakfast untouched on the nightstand. The displacer beast cub curled up with Tara at her feet, Gale seemingly sending in his Tressym to keep her company. 

Astarion slowly approaches, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He watches her silently, then reaches out towards her arm. 

“Celeste?”

She cracks open an eye.

“You.”

Astarion flinches almost imperceptibly at the tone in her voice as she throws herself forward. 

“Yes, me.” He forces himself to speak evenly. “Can we talk?”

She gestures in front of herself. 

“Talk all you want. It’s not as if I can go anywhere.”

He bristles, but bites down on any sort of argument. At the bottom of the mattress, Tara stirs and gives them a contemplative look before leaping through the open window, taking flight. Now alone, the displacer kitten stirs and moves into Celeste’s lap. She looks down curiously before scratching between its ears.

“Celeste…” Astarion begins. He lets her name linger in the air before continuing. “I know you can’t remember this, but you’ll need to trust what I’m going to tell you.”

“Trust you? You’re holding me against my will.”

Against her will. The words make Astarion’s head spin. 

“Darling…you couldn’t be more wrong. Trust me, I know you.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?” She says, “it’s clear none of you think I’m sane. Perhaps the Celeste you knew might have just been brainwashed by Selûnites? Perhaps this is who I am.”

He snorts. “Brainwashed by Selûne. Are you so desperate to prove me wrong?”

“My mistress saved me…” 

“No, I bloody saved you!” Astarion shouts. 

Celeste flinches when he raises his voice, but quickly recovers her mask of indifference. 

“Saved me from what, exactly? Is that what we are to each other in your world? I’m some damsel that needs you?”

Astarion steadies himself, trying to calm his emotions.

“We were friends. Allies. Partners.” He says, “We loved each other. You may not remember, but I do.” 

“As you’ve mentioned several times..” she tilts her head, “would you like to fuck me Astarion, is that it? I could oblige you. Come back to Vanrakdoom with me. Perhaps we can work something out...”

He swallows. The thought of her trading herself for freedom made him sick, shameful. But every instinct in his mind tells him it could work. Freeing her, letting her run to Keresta’s side. What would it matter which goddess she served, so long as she loved him? He’d never allied with one, truly, but it was Selûne’s gift that’s given him back the sun. It was Selûne’s that saved her, once. 

The cool, detached calculation in her eyes makes him feel nauseated. 

“No.” He says firmly, “I could never do that.”

She scoffs. “Noble of you.”

“Don’t pretend to be surprised.” Astarion says, a slight edge coming into his voice. “And don’t mock me. I know you’re desperate to be cruel right now, but let’s not act as if you aren’t perfectly aware I would never lay a hand on you. Not like this.”

She assesses him through narrowed eyes. “Why not, though? Why are you so insistent? If we’re lovers, you should have no problem...”

“Because this isn’t you.” Astarion sighs, a sound that’s almost a growl of its own. “You may not remember this about me, but I spent two centuries playing the rake. I wouldn’t inflict it on anyone else. Sex doesn’t matter to me like that.”

Celeste studies him for a short time. 

“Humor me, then. What is this terrible history of yours?”

His lip curls.

“I was a slave, darling dearest, for centuries. I was forced to serve a cruel master, forced to live my life at the edge of his whim, to lure people back for him...” His words are clipped and even. “Is that sufficient, or do you desire the particulars?”

She keeps her cool demeanor, but he notices she begins to wring her hands in her lap. 

“And that’s it? You were a slave?”

Astarion gestures wildly. “What do you mean, that’s it? You want me to tell you about the torture? Want me to regale you about the starvation and the mutilation and the use of my body for his own gain?”

“Shar could help you transcend your sorrows, erase the memories of what was done to you...”

“I begged for every god, including Shar. None saved me. None listened.”

She bites her lip, but seems engrossed in his story. 

“So your master…you escaped?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Astarion says, his voice soft and cold. “And then I returned to kill him.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

“Yes, well…” He tries to smirk, knowing it probably looks more like a grimace. “I had friends. It was not so simple a task.”

“Friends…like Gale?”

“Yes.” Astarion replies. “Shadowheart, Karlach, Minthara, Wyll... We traveled together, for a time.”

“How did you meet?”

“We were abducted by mindflayers, believe it or not. It’s a long story, really.”

Celeste leans back, settling against the plush pillows, her gaze fixed on him.

“We have time.” 

And so he tells her, vividly recounting their adventures through the untamed wilderness and the eerie, shadow-cursed lands. Defeating an Apostle of Myrkul, fighting Raphael in the Hells, killing Cazador, turning down Ascension. He told her everything. Orin shapeshifting into Gale and kidnapping him, how they had to kill Gortash - much to Karlach’s delight - to convince the Bhaalspawn to spare the wizard’s life. The insufferable Emperor that they turned against before their victory against the Netherbrain, and Gale’s invitation for Astarion to return to Waterdeep when it was all over. 

“You know, I’ve told you this entire thing before.” He remarks after he finishes. 

“You did?”

“Indeed.” Astarion mutters bitterly. “I thought it might make you remember something, but it didn’t seem to do any good.”

She shrugs. “It passed time.” 

“I’m glad I’m entertaining.” Astarion’s tone drips with sarcasm.

“I remember nothing from the past two months, you know.” She confesses suddenly. “Everything before that is…hazy.”

Astarion hums in acknowledgement, squinting at her.

“And that doesn’t give you pause? You don’t think your memory has been tampered with, rather than restored?”

She glances down at the displacer kitten purring in lap and pets it, not giving him a response.

“Does this creature belong to me?”

“It’s a shared pet. You’ll have to fight the cleric for it if you want to leave with it. The cub was gifted to you by a mad wizard only a couple of days ago.” 

“Displacer beasts are well aligned with Shar’s intentions…” Celeste begins. 

“Well, here’s hoping Gale’s Tressym is a good influence.” As Astarion looks down at his hands, a sense of desperation seeps into his voice.

“This isn’t you. Trust me. I know you.”

“How can I trust anyone when I can’t even trust myself?”

“You think it’s better to be a mindless puppet?” Astarion counters. “An obedient little zealot?”

There’s a soft knock as Nocturne peeks in. 

“Everything alright? I brought tea.” The tiefling offers Celeste a steaming mug, and she accepts it, but eyes it suspiciously before passing it to Astarion. 

“You first. Maybe you can earn some of my trust.”

“No one would poison you here, darling.”

Celeste doesn’t blink. 

“Fine.” He mutters and sips at the tea with reluctance.

For a moment he feels nothing, then, a slight memory, one long forgotten. A flash of something, hanging on to his mother’s skirts as a child, hiding from the busy streets of Baldur’s Gate as they walked to the market, her hand reaching for his, the comfort in her smile…

He dismisses the thought and returns the mug to her.  

“It’s just tea,” He says flatly. He hates lying to her, but the Noblestalk is the only chance to get her back.

“Just tea,” she mutters as she lifts the cup’s rim to her lips. She drinks, holding Astarion’s gaze. Nocturne takes a step back, and he sees Shadowheart lingering in the cracked doorway, watching. Astarion ignores them, watching as Celeste swallows the liquid. 

She sets the mug down, still half full, and stares at the quilt. She winces, touching her temple. 

“What did you do…” she growls.

“You remembered something, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I remembered the worst day of my life.” She glowers at them from under her tear-drenched lashes. “This is how you earn my trust? By lying to me?”

Astarion feels a stab of guilt. 

“You just recalled a painful memory.” Shadowheart interrupts them. “Keep drinking. There are good ones to recover as well.”

“I don’t want to see more!” Celeste knocks the tea from the nightstand and Nocturne jumps forward, catching it before it hits the ground. A bit sloshes out of the side, but she saves the rest.

Astarion moves before he has a moment to think about it.

“Stop it!” He reaches out and holds Celeste by her shoulders. “You remembered something! That’s progress. If you just stopped resisting-”

“I don’t want to remember that.” She sniffs. “The Lady of Loss must have taken the memory to provide relief…”

“What did you see?” Nocturne asks gently. 

“My parents dying. In perfect clarity. What those monsters did to me afterwards...” she says through gritted teeth. 

Astarion hadn’t considered that the memories that returned would also be some of her most traumatic.

“Noblestalk is an indiscriminate herb, unfortunately.” Shadowheart says. “I’m sorry what you saw was unpleasant, but your memories can’t lie to you. If you drink more, you’ll find joyous ones returning as well…”

Astarion tightens his grip on Celeste’s arms, giving her a pleading look. “Those monsters are the same Sharrans poisoning you against us now. Please. Just take the Noblestalk. You’re just making yourself suffer by refusing...”

“My whole life has been suffering, has it not!? From what memories I have, it’s been miserable! What good is there to remember?” 

“We don’t have time for dramatics.” Shadowheart says, snatching the tea from Nocturne. She forces Celeste backwards, pinning her to the bed.

Astarion reaches out to stop her, but the cleric gives him a threatening look over her shoulder when she feels him shift forward. As Celeste thrashes under her hold, screaming in protest, Nocturne pushes the mug back against Celeste’s closed lips with surprising force, tea dripping out the sides as she resists. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The tiefling says to her as Astarion watches helplessly.

Celeste attempts to spit out the Noblestalk, but Shadowheart puts a hand over her mouth, forcing her to swallow. When the cleric eases off her, Celeste jolts forward, coughing and gasping for air.

Astarion moves quickly, pulling her against him. She clutches at his shirt, tears staining its collar.

“I apologize.” Shadowheart says, “but you need to remember Celeste. Before Shar takes a stronger hold,” she turns to Astarion, “that’s all I have leftover from the shop in Baldur’s Gate. When Gale returns later, we’ll have more. If we can restore even one good memory of hers..” the cleric’s voice trails off, sympathy passing across her face as Celeste weeps into Astarion’s shirt.

“We’ll leave you.” She says and departs with Nocturne, shutting the door behind them.

Astarion doesn’t speak as they leave, waiting for Celeste’s sobs to quiet into sniffs before he tips her chin up, searching for a sign of the woman he loves. 

“Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright!” She pushes him off of her, as if surprised she’d sought solace in his arms in the first place.

Astarion lets her push him away, staring at her stonily. 

“What did you remember this time?” 

“Keresta bit me.” She whispers. “I had to crawl out of a grave - your grave - and you found me in that alley...”

Astarion’s hands reach out, clasping hers between them. 

“Keep going.” He says. “Please. Just keep talking. Just talk, darling.”

“When I was recovering. You came and told me how you’d been lying to me…about Keresta’s offer.” She closes her eyes as if trying to remember, “I forgave you. And the next day we…confronted…someone..”

Astarion’s gaze doesn’t leave hers as she recounts the memories.

“Daniel. Your ex.” He doesn’t mention she killed him. Best not venture into that territory yet. “He’s the one who led the Sharrans to you.” 

She nods. “You walked me back to the tavern after. I was struggling…with the two goddesses’ claim to me. The moon and the dark, the compulsion to be good. You…comforted me that evening.”

She blushes, undoubtedly recalling the lengths at which they “comforted” one another.

Astarion can’t help the tiny, almost painful grin that crosses his face at her statement. 

“Keep going. Please. What else?”

“We got in a fight after. Because you implied you loved me and I was so…taken aback by it.”

He winces as guilt washes over him, remembering how much of a dick he had been to her.

“I was devastated when you left.” she looks up at him. “Did we..make up? Apologize?”

“Yes.” He clears his throat. “We did.”

“That’s all I have. but I…” She shakes her head. “I know I love you. I felt it in that memory. I cared for you then.”

Celeste stands, pacing the room.

“If you say Shar and Keresta are lying…I’ll try to hear you out. After what they did to me before your intervention...you must be right about something.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this another one of your tricks?”

She lets out an annoyed huff. 

“Your friend, Shadowheart, that’s her name, yes? She said I’ll get back more memories if I keep taking the Noblestalk. So if it will help me get back to…whoever I was, I’ll do it.”

Astarion stands abruptly and strides purposefully to the wardrobe, rummaging through it.

“What are you doing?” Celeste asks as he brushes past her.

“Looking for something.” He replies, retrieving a book and pressing it into her hands.

“This is your father’s diary. He turned from Shar, once. Perhaps his words can help you find the strength, too…” He snatches a stuffed owlbear and tosses it onto the bed, “and this is apparently a childhood memento of yours. I found it in the remnants of your house fire. See if it jogs your memory at all.” 

He steps around her, placing his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll leave you with your thoughts for a while. Come find me when you’re ready to talk again.”

Celeste stands in the center of the room, clutching her father’s journal to her chest.

“You’re not locking me in?”

Their eyes meet, and he holds onto the moment. Perhaps she’s not herself, but she once gave him that same look after he kissed her for the first time. 

“A gesture of good faith.” He dares to smile as he slips into the hall.

[fyonahmacnally]

#1 - Mike:

Her phone buzzes causing it to nearly vibrate off her nightstand and onto the floor. She catches it just in time and blearily stares at the bright screen to see who the fuck is calling her at midnight. Deep down, she knows it is likely one of two people. Her girlfriend or her best friend. Knowing Veronica and the number of times Lena has bitten her head off for late night booty calls, it’s likely the latter. Rubbing her eyes to help focus, she is proven correct. It’s Kara. If her best friend is calling this late, it can only mean one thing. 

“What has the jackass done this time?” Lena groggily croaks into the phone. “Do I need to hire someone to beat his ass?” She rolls over in bed, resting the phone on the pillow next to her as she puts it on speaker.

Soft sniffles drift into the silence before Kara’s tired voice can be heard. “He came home drunk again. This time he had lipstick on his face and his collar.” Muffled movement can be heard in the background as a door closes. “He’s passed out on the couch now since I refused to let him in the bedroom or our bed. Why do I keep putting up with his shit?”

Lena sighs, rolling over and placing her phone on her chest. “Because you love him. Same reason I have put up with Roni’s shit for so long. Either that or we are gluttons for misery and mistreatment.” A humorless laugh reverberates between them. “Do you want to come over? We can cuddle and commiserate in my comfy bed.”

A quiet sob escapes Kara’s throat on the other end of the line. “Y-Yeah. I’d like that. W-Where’s Veronica?”

“Who the fuck knows? We had a fight last night and I haven’t talked to her since.” Lena scoffs and shuffles out of bed to turn a lamp on in the living room. “Just use your key. I turned a light on for you and will be keeping the bed warm.”

They both chuckle and hang up. Lena crawls back in bed to wait for her best friend. 

#2 - Veronica:

A few weeks later, Kara is up late watching a movie. Mike is god knows where. The story this time is he’s out with some coworkers after their shift at the bar. She’s pretty sure he’s fucking the other bartender, Imra. She can’t prove it, but there’s too much circumstantial evidence for it not to be true. He has already been sleeping on the couch since the last incident and she’s getting incredibly close to kicking him out of her apartment. Not that he really lives there anyway, he just stays there most of the time.

A long sigh of irritation huffs out as her phone chimes with a text. She glances at the time on her cable box to see it’s almost one in the morning. Her chest twinges because she knows it’s likely Lena and that means Veronica is up to her bullshit again. Grabbing her phone from the coffee table, she taps the notification. She does her best not to laugh, but can’t hold back when she sees an angry emoji followed by a string of expletives. Instead of responding, she hits the call button.

“So she decided tonight would be a good time to give you unsolicited advice about your own career and let you know she won’t be attending the gala with you on Saturday?” Kara says, listening to her best friend growl with unbridled anger on the other end. “What did she think she was going to get in response? A hug? A thank you? Fuck, sometimes I think Veronica has the emotional intelligence of a shoestring.”

The last sentence makes Lena pause in her rant and a sudden burst of laughter comes across the line before it quiets again. “Oh Kara, thank you. I needed that. I can always count on you to make me laugh. To answer your question, I have no idea what she was expecting. It almost seems like she is trying to piss me off.” A slight pause and a door closing sounds across the line. “Sometimes I think she does shit like this simply because she likes makeup sex. Why in the hell do I put up with that woman?!”

“Maybe it’s some twisted way of punishing ourselves? Sometimes I think I somehow deserve it. I mean, I always forgive him. Is that giving him permission to keep doing it?” Kara sighs, rubbing her forehead in shared annoyance. “It’s been two years and nothing changes. It makes me wonder what the final straw will be.”

Read the rest on AO3. Link above.

[yanny-77]

Are We There Yet?

An Empyrean Drabble featuring Xaden driving the Iron Squad to the beach. He has many regrets. Mainly that Ridoc's annoying as fuck and Violet makes him way too horny for him to be comfortable trapped in the car with her best friends.

Pour one out for Sawyer's pants. Sorry for what I had to do to you, man.

Read the drabble after the break or on AO3.

“Are we there yet?” Xaden groans. This is the third time Ridoc's asked in the last five minutes. Why did his girlfriend have to get saddled with the most annoying squad in the quadrant? Couldn't she have been matched with someone cool? Someone like Bodhi or Garrick. “Not yet, Ridoc,” Violet says, endlessly patient. It’s one of the many reasons Xaden loves her. “How much longer?” Her friend whines. “About two minutes less than the last time you asked,” Xaden grumbles. “What was that, Riorson?”  Xaden glances in the rearview mirror to see Rhiannon Matthias smirking up at him from the back seat where she sits wedged between Ridoc Gamlyn and Sawyer Henrrick. Xaden’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. His white-knuckled grip is the only thing keeping him from throwing one of these assholes out a window.  “I said it’s a nice day for the beach.” “Uh-huh.” Xaden tears his eyes away from the back seat. Because Garrick and Xaden are the only ones with cars, and because Xaden is dating Violet, he’s stuck driving the children instead of riding with his friends.  It’s a tight squeeze in his Sedan, a sleek dark blue Audi. The trunk is filled with their overnight back and floaties, which means that their beach bags are in the back seat. The cooler with their drinks and sandwiches is balanced on Sawyer’s lap.  The man’s legs keep jiggling up and down, jostling the ice and sloshing the water. “I’m not the only one who’s bored. Sawyer’s all jittery.” Ridoc presses his face against the window. “I know! Let’s play a game.” A groan comes from the other side of the back seat. “Guys, I really have to pee.” “I spy with my little eye something silver,” Ridoc says, ignoring Sawyer’s announcement. “Can you hold it?” Violet asks. Xaden chances a glance at her, taking his eyes off the road. She’s turned around, looking at Sawyer in the backseat with concern. A car changes lanes and Xaden has to swerve to avoid it. “Fuck,” Sawyer whimpers as he squirms in an attempt to get comfortable. “Be careful, Xaden,” Violet scolds. “You need to keep your eyes on the road.” “It’s in this car,” Ridoc hints. “Shut up, Ridoc,” Rhiannon says. “No one cares what you spy.” “We’re only forty-five minutes away,” Xaden says, irritation lacing his words. “You can hold it.” “I can’t. I’m about to burst.” “Can you just try, Sawyer?” Violet asks placatingly. She places her hand on Xaden’s thigh, rubbing gently to calm him down. Unfortunately, her touch excites another part of his body. A part that she’s getting dangerously close to. He’s going to have to immediately whisk her away to a secluded area when they get to the beach. Or a public changing room, whichever is closer. “Then Ridoc has to take the cooler.” Sawyer shifts frantically, trying to slide the cooler across Rhiannon’s lap and onto Ridoc’s, but then they hit a bump and he starts to panic. “It’s pressing on my bladder.” “Seriously, guys?” Ridoc’s voice is incredulous as he looks around the car. “No one has a guess for something silver.” “It’s Violet’s fucking hair!” Xaden shouts. “It’s obviously her hair. What the fuck else would it be?” Gods, Ridoc was so fucking annoying. Xaden could strangle him. “Jeez, you don’t have to be so mean about it.” Ridoc goes back to looking out his window. “I’ll think of a harder one this time.” “Please don’t,” Xaden and Sawyer groan simultaneously. Ridoc kicks Xaden’s seat in response. “How about we play the silent game instead,” Violet suggests. “This is so entertaining,” Rhiannon cackles. “I’m so glad you invited us to tag along, Xaden.” There’s a high-pitched sob from the back right, and Xaden looks up to see Sawyer’s face turning red. A look of horror spreads across the man’s features. “Pull over. Right now.”

[electrozeistyking]

Hello! Been following you for a bit! I love your Ghost Drone AU and wanted to know if there is a story that will go into more detail behind the drawings? I love reading and seeing an AU grow like that as well!

Also has Beanie ever seen her dad having a panic attack or really going through it? Or has V? If so, have they tried doing anything to cheer him up that worked, because sometimes with depression it can really put you in a spiral 😓

Funny you should mention! There is a fic I started working on in December of 2023, and recently posted on AO3 yesterday! The prologue turned out being MUCH longer than I intended, and the real chapter one is going to be an interesting time, to see the time!

Also, both of them definitely have seen both. V has taken to collecting N a whole wardrobe over the years to cheer him up (that's right, his hoodie was only the first), and Beanie usually tries not to make him do things (like braiding her hair) when she knows he's not feeling particularly well and gives him lots of hugs.

She's also waddled into his room after he had a nightmare once, knowing that she does that when she has nightmares and was a little upset he doesn't do the same thing when he has them. She just wants her daddy to be okay... and she'll take any excuse she can get to the same things he does when she needs comforting.

[ssruis]

You. 🫵 Go read this. Peak rks. Peak rui.

Obligatory comment-under-read-more Of Shame (ao3 character limit my beloathed)

YOU WROTE THIS SO QUICKLY??? 18k???? Has it even been a month since you mentioned this… You’re cracked. I’m scared and in awe of your power. As soon as I clicked the link in the notes I knew I was about to read peak… I was cackling. The mental image of Rui doing that is so beautiful… Pristine, even. One might say immaculate. Perchance. I got my hat on backwards and it’s time to forget 10 years of positive character growth!!

“I remember.” Guilt. Shame. Sorrow. It had gone badly. He had walked home alone. “Sorry about…I’m sorry.”

> you have such a way of conveying so much with so few words… dagger to the heart

Was he hit by a high speed vehicle?

> high speed door, actually. Happens to the best of us.

A life of solitude, easy and empty. Years of solo tinkering in his room in silence. Finding more ways to enjoy being alone. Not yearning, never yearning. Maybe one day creating something great.

> main story rui & his “I’m fine like this it’s just how life is going to be” mindset ouuuugh… creating because he’s given up on finding something great…

“Such careless design!” Tsukasa huffs. “In a place like that, they should really have some kind of tape so people know to duck!”

“To be fair, most people are shorter than Rui.”

“So that means they should just get knocked out every time they want to enter a room?!”

> as I’ve said before I love the way you write the nene + tsukasa dynamic (even if it’s not the focus here). They’re such an underrated comedic duo… tsk could say anything & she’ll throw out a counter argument just because.

Even a high budget production wouldn’t have props this well constructed.

> and it would have taller doorframes! probably. I love the way you capture how Rui is always always always viewing and analyzing things through his director mindset… everything can be related to shows if you just try hard enough.

“And this is the bedroom back here,” Tsukasa says, pointing through the doorway. Okay, he’s just going to ignore him then.

> he’s so funny. His husband got factory reset and he’s entered overly enthusiastic and fretful tour guide mode out of panic.

Rui stares at his ring finger again, twisting the band around and feeling the metal rub against his skin. Such a quaint sight. 

> “quaint” auugh… main story rui being flung 10 years into the future and seeing that he’s happy and thriving and living in domestic bliss with that obnoxious blond guy & it’s just. Unbelievable and unrealistic in the way that an unearned cheesy “& then they lived happily ever after” storybook ending would be to him.

I only knew you for a couple of weeks, and then we parted ways. And that was a parting that was welcomed by me, if I’m frank.

> nene your spot as tsukasa’s no.1 hater is in jeopardy

Tsukasa makes a face, but it only lasts a moment.

> tsukasa and his refusal to back down or consider failure (unstoppable force) vs rui’s “this guy sucks big time” mindset (immovable object). Tale as old as time.

Rui catches sight of a framed photo up on the wall, apparently a scene from their wedding. Or a show. It’s hard to tell. There may not be a difference.

> there isn’t a difference. Fully believe they’d treat their wedding like a show. They’re incapable of being normal. show freaks (derogatory) (affectionate)

Tsukasa steps out from the doorway he’s been skulking by for the past ten minutes.

> insert sad ant with a bindle image here

“Okay.” For a second the absurdity almost makes him laugh, but he wills away the smile before it’s too visible. “That’s…interesting.”

Tsukasa drops his stance. Why does he seem disappointed? There’s absolutely no way Rui would have ever entertained something like that, future or past. It’s not like there would be that many poses. He would run out eventually. Though, those did seem- specific. Are there more? No, Rui isn't going to waste his time following that thought process.

> HELP ME they’re so weird!! They’re so weird. I giggled. Rui & his initial fascination with tsk (that never really went away, just changed shapes) & tsk and his 100+ poses that he has memorized and ready to pull out at any given moment.

Like he’s going to be led down a path so softly that it’s already too late by the time he realises the direction is wrong. 

> yes… the tsukasa tenma Stockholm Syndrome effect. Millions fall victim to it each year. Fondly reminiscing on the days where I straight up did not care about him. & now that I’ve spent close to a year as a wxs fan I’m tragically very fond of him. As you can see this condition is incurable.

“Well, maybe it’s just because I know you both so well. It just feels like you recognise each other’s vision well, and that comes across when watching.” […] “I have no idea what you guys are doing most of the time. I’m pretty sure the way you express love isn’t the same as most people, anyway. You communicate best through theatre talk and dramatics.”

> YOU GET IT… you get it. They’re so fucking weird. but they are weird together. And obnoxiously happy about it too.

It’s someone that’s making his voice a little softer, at least. Even if he’s still loud. Rui closes his eyes and tries to imagine Tsukasa speaking to him like that.

> saki mention :)

“I wasn’t upset,” Rui says, looking away. “I was simply being honest based on my observations.”

> me when I lie (to both myself and others)

It’s familiar, but it’s- not right. Of course he wants to take it, because this life everyone is telling him about seems so warm and inviting, but- he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know how to be both himself and this at the same time.

> ow. Pre wxs he’d been alone so long that he started defining himself by his loneliness to the point where he was like “I’m better off like this actually” and now he’s got all this love coming at him from a bunch of different directions… how do you even begin to trust that. Esp when it’s love for a you that you don’t know… ur mind. Love this part.

Two conflicting things can’t both be true at once. There must be an error somewhere. Is that why he feels like he’s doing something wrong?

> He’s so funny... he’s facts and logic-ing his way to the wrong conclusion but because he’s being “rational” about it he can’t see that he’s wrong or that he is in fact letting his feelings get in the way of seeing the problem clearly.

Rui wonders just how much Tsukasa will put up with before he decides he isn’t worth it.

> already shifting from “this guy is the worst I want him to leave me alone” to “he’s the worst but surely he will leave me because I am too much.” Nene was right when she said he’d fall in love again but she had too much faith in Rui (in that he lasted less than a week before the tsukasa Stockholm syndrome kicked in).

> I really enjoy how you show that he’s slowly falling back into his relationship with tsukasa even if he’s unaware of it… he starts teasing him instinctually

There can’t be that much difference between his old self and the new. It’s not as if he’s acting irrationally or strange.

> he’s so blatantly and confidently wrong… it’s inspiring…

It had been an incredible display, by far his favourite part of the entire musical other than Nene’s performance. “Not really. I didn’t notice it that much.”

> HELP MEEE… really holding onto that hatred with a white knuckle grip, huh.

> When I first read this fic I was like “hmm idk if Rui would hold onto his grudge like this but I can see where its coming from” and then I reread it again (fic so nice u read it twice. Or more.) and realized I was so wrong… it’s not just about accepting that tsukasa has changed, it’s about accepting that his life has improved so drastically. He’s mentally still very “I will never belong with anyone and I have to follow my dreams on my own.” Right after the first time in forever that Rui lets himself get his hopes up & then promptly has them shattered during the main story fight, he’s suddenly thrown into a life where he’s happy and fulfilled and accepted for who he is. Of course he’d try to cling to his dislike of Tsukasa, because letting go of that means letting go of the “I’m incompatible with other people” mindset. (Rui vc) that’s my comfort unhealthy-outlook-on-relationships-&-life and I will not be letting it go. Your mind…

“No, she’s happy to do it. Any of us would do the same, if it was something really important. Nothing is worth more than a friend in need, right? Even the best job in the universe couldn’t compete against that!”

> points at Rui in curtain call

“Rui Rui Rui Rui is your head okay do you feel sick do you feel dizzy are you okay do you know who I am Rui????”

> The little pink thing is here (the crowd goes wild)

“Is it true that your head went whambamow?” Emu asks, pulling back to look at him with large eyes. “And now you don’t know anyone and you can’t remember anything like vshhvshvshh?”

> as always I’m obsessed with how you write her like… you nail the emu typical incomprehensible onomatopoeias but I can still understand what she’s getting at.

“Mmm…” Emu’s eyes stay on his face, searching hard in a way that makes Rui feel oddly exposed. Why does it feel like she’s seeing something that he can’t? “I think you’re definitely Rui, but I’m not sure you’re completely Rui.”

> she knows him so well… even putting her insane ability to read people aside she can pinpoint what’s up with him from a mile away even when he can’t understand himself. Because she knows what a happy Rui looks like and it’s not this.

> semi related but it makes me so happy that yes this is a rks fic but it also includes all of Rui’s friendships and takes a look at his dynamics with them. because you write them so well but also because his friends are so so so important to him… there’s a weird fandom brain tendency to go “romantic relationship > importance of everyone else in a characters life” which has never sat right with me, but especially not for WXS. They’re all friends… they all love and support each other & the dynamic doesn’t need to be romantic for that.

“That’s so sad, you really don’t remember any of our shows…” Emu says forlornly, blowing bubbles into her drink as her head dips.

> so cute so cute… you always write in little actions that aren’t plot relevant but do make the scene feel so much more real and I enjoy it every time…

This is the place where everything ended, to Rui. He tries to picture that happiness, really tries to place himself into that life, but it just doesn’t seem possible.

> “where everything ended” obsessed with that. it’s so true. Forever thinking about that little scene they added in journey to bloom after the main story fight where it shows him looking super upset in his room…

“Is it scary?” she asks. It’s the same tone someone might take with a young child, but somehow Rui doesn’t find it condescending. “Because you don’t remember, and now suddenly you have lots of love from every single direction? And that’s a really big change, right? Especially compared to when you first started making shows with us! You always had a big big wall like kztkzkzt.”

> this made me smile she’s so good with emotions & getting to the root cause of what’s wrong… I love seeing emu written so well…

Why would Tsukasa bother to do this, even though Rui has no recollection of their relationship? It’s not something he deserves. It’s not something he should have. Yet, here it is anyway.

> ohhh that hurts… Rui Kamishiro you sad sad man

“Is that a script?” he can’t help but ask. It warrants an overjoyed expression from Tsukasa, and Rui isn’t sure if he’s made a mistake or not. 

> tsukasa tenma you are never beating the dog allegations.

He finds himself looking away from the page to watch Tsukasa as he delivers his lines, something striking about the way he moves and talks. Everything seems so deliberate, yet fully natural too. Well, of course, this must be something he’s performed countless times, but- still. Rui never imagined his own work would sound like this. It’s usually lost once it leaves the paper, but now it seems- more, not less. Tsukasa is- adding something to it, somehow.

Rui keeps reading his assigned lines, but finds himself getting a little more into the performance. It’s hard to consciously sound disinterested when Tsukasa is filling the air with so much energy. Is this what they normally do…? Rui could believe it. It feels familiar. It feels fun. This isn’t bad at all. Distantly, Rui thinks his future self must not be a very good actor, because it’s hard to stop himself from smiling even as he tries to stay in character. 

> You get it… they’re so odd. Why are they like this. So much of their bond is built off of their shared all consuming passion and love for theatre. Height of romance for ruikasa is creating a show together.

An audience full of ordinary people probably wouldn’t enjoy this. Perhaps it’s something his other self forgot to edit out.

> rui :(

Yes, but also no, because Rui is scared that the feeling in his chest is going to keep developing, keep rising with the liveliness of the room.

> “I can’t catch feelings for the man I’m literally married to. I have to leave” I cannot stand this guy. Aren’t you supposed to be smart rui.

It’s been this long, so an argument was inevitable, this is the start of the divorce era- 

“Your jacket’s inside out.”

> DIVORCE ERA… i giggled

“It’s a different perspective, you know? Asking someone for fashion advice with a decade long memory gap? Oh, that reminds me, did I tell you you owe me ten thousand yen?”

> they’re so funny. Your second priority should be checking in on your friend’s wellbeing after an amnesia inducing head injury. your first priority should always be profit.

Mizuki watches him for a moment, then sighs hard, crossing their arms. “Listen, Rui, I’m sorry to have to tell you this. I know it’s going to come as a huge shock, but try to stay calm, okay? The truth is…you’re gay.”

> took me OUT… mizuki you are so funny

A friendly smile and a wave. Once no longer needed, he’d be gone. 

Every time he had tried to go past that level, every time he’d dared to step closer, things had gone wrong. The shows he had shared as a child had ended no different to their performance at the park. Rui had started alone, realised just how different he was, and then gone back to being alone.

[…]

Those feelings he gets when Tsukasa checks to see if he’s okay, when he smiles at him- they’re temporary. They’re frivolous. Rui isn’t the type of person who can love someone like that. And- even if they’re not- he’s not the type of person who can be loved like that. This life is too unrealistic. It’s too selfish.

> I’m obsessed with this part… even past the main story Rui was still holding onto his belief that he was simply incompatible with people - because if that isn’t true, that means there’s no easy logical reason for why he was so rejected by his peers. It means he’s capable of forming relationships and it means opening himself up to losing something so much more important than surface level friendships with others when the people he loves leave him (because they have to eventually, right?). & even though that belief was unhealthy, it let him believe he was content being alone, but now that he has all these people who love him it actively gets in the way of his relationships. It’s so much easier for him to view his desires as selfish than it is to believe that other people legitimately love him.

Performing with his friends, subjecting others to his ideas and creations, forming a close connection with someone…it’s simply too much.

> “subjecting others” love that phrasing it’s so true… baby rui going “I forced my shows onto other people and that’s why they rejected me” and the way he started to view his love for others as something that’s inherently too much - because it can rival his love of theatre, and all his life he was shown over and over again through rejection that this passion was too extreme. So it’ll probably the same thing if he lets his friends know how much he cares about them, right? (Wrong! He is stupid.)

His voice is eager and inviting like always, and there’s the shine in his eyes that’s always there when he looks at Rui. Not too dissimilar from a dog waiting for praise.

> do we have solid proof tsk isn’t a very human looking dog? There’s no compelling evidence against it. So it must be true.

“But I don’t think that’ll happen!” His vigour returns tenfold as he shoots up, eyebrows pointed down. “And before it got to that point, I’d do absolutely everything in my power to ensure you were happy and safe! I wouldn’t ever want to make you uncomfortable, but- I don’t mind however long it takes! I don’t care if I have to do it all over from the start! I would do it ten thousand times for you, Rui!”

> tsukasa “unstoppable force” tenma… the phrase “I give up” isn’t in his vocabulary.

He can hear the water running, though there’s no singing or loud monologuing today.

> you are so talented at show don’t tell I love all the little moments in this fic that - even through rui’s lens of Hate - show how upset and concerned and wrong footed Tsukasa is. He’s more than capable of covering this up with the “Rui will go back to normal eventually” attitude but he is very clearly (unless you’re Rui with amnesia) Not Having A Fun Time. Tsukasa Tenma and the no good very bad 2 weeks from hell.

“[…] I like sharing stuff with you. Understand?! How can you say we don’t have anything in common?! I like all of that stuff! I like it a lot!”

> this whole speech was so so cute and sweet. I sniled so sneetly. I hate them (said with great affection). When it truly comes down to it Tsukasa is so good at locking in and saying something that’s simultaneously both completely unexpected & exactly what needed to be said. The cost of this skill is, of course, being so super obnoxious all the time and occasionally getting treated like a chew toy/guinea pig/clown by his friends (which is always funny and deserved).

Of course, the decorations and the music and the flowers had been beautiful, but it was that moment that had been the true act of togetherness - being there as he cried. The silent understanding of ‘this is what I thought I would never have’ without Rui ever saying it, and the realisation that despite everything, now they did have it. Understanding without needing to be told. Not just sharing happiness but sharing sadness and doubt and courage too. To be understood. To understand. That’s it. That’s love.

> STOP get out… this is so beautiful and touching… accepting and being accepted and revealing your whole, authentic self and trusting that you’ll be loved and can love in return…

“Oh, really? But it’s okay if you want to kill me off sometimes. I have a lot of good poses for death scenes! And we still have some fake blood left, so that could be pretty useful for that kind of thing.”

> of course he does. Tsukasa Tenma voice “every actor should have at least 5 death poses. I, of course, have 20.”

“Would you like me to include a graphic death for you next time?” Rui asks fondly. “I’ve always wanted to experiment with using alternative means of showing blood, such as through lighting or with props. Potentially using colours other than red, too.”

“Oh, that sounds good! I’ve been working a lot on my core stability, so I think I could hold even a pretty complicated pose for a good amount of time without moving. And I’ve been trying a new stage fall technique if you want to try shooting me through the head…I think something with a bow and arrow could look really good…”

> what is wrong with themmmm going from a super emotional moment to immedietly talking about the most artistic way for tsukasa to die on screen. They’re insane. “‘Would you like me to include a graphic death for you next time?’ Rui asks fondly.” help meee… fondly planning out a scene where your husband dies violently. True romance. They always follow up their normal and/or emotionally vulnerable conversations with deranged theatre talk, thus restoring order to the universe. I think this is one of the best rks interactions in fan works that I’ve read like. They would. They so would. Cheering and clapping so hard.

"Would you love me even if I was made from polyurethane foam?" he asks distantly. Tsukasa’s eyebrows twitch.

“Go to sleep,” he mutters. “If it’s you, yes.”

> they are so funny & annoying I need to hit them with a bat

God this was so good… I love your writing so so much & I was so excited to see this fic pop up. I will save the longer comment for tumblr where I’m freed from the restraints of the character limit but I’m so obsessed with this. Perfectly balanced between sweet and serious and hysterical… an excellent rui character study… exploring his relationships with his closest friends and how they’ve grown and changed… so beautifully written… you have such a fantastic grasp on these characters and what makes them tick. Thank you for sharing… I’m going to be rotating this in my mind for ages…

[marmorafarms]

Ocean Eyes

Happy Birthday Kabru!

Pairing: Labru Rating: Explicit A/N: Trans Kabru, use of the word cunt

You can find it on ao3 or you can read it down below!

“Laios has requested your presence in the throne room.”

Those were the words that kicked off this incredible night. Kabru had been sitting his room eating food he managed to sneak from the kitchens while he focused on his latest batch of reports. The Elven Queen had said something about wanting to have a meeting, and Kabru needed to re-read the correspondence and analyze the situation from every angle. Just as he felt like he was getting somewhere, there was a knock on his door.

“Come in,” Kabru said casually, and the door to his study opened. In the doorway stood Marcille, which surprised him. Marcille rarely came to visit him, and when she did it was usually with very important news.

“Is everything okay?” Kabru asked, setting his sandwich down. Marcille cocked her head to the side looking thoughtful.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Laios has requested your presence in the throne room. He also requested nobody else be allowed in there for the rest of the night,” she grumbled. “To get to my lab I have to go through the throne room! So annoying.”

“Did he say why?” Kabru asked, frowning. This was an unusual request. Closing down the throne room to everyone except them? It must be serious.

“No,” Marcille said. “But he did say for you to come right away.”

“Alright,” Kabru said, and stood up. “I’ll go right now.”

“Great,” Marcille said, turning to leave. She paused, and looked back at Kabru. “Happy birthday by the way,” she said with a smile.

“Birthday? Oh! That’s right,” Kabru said. “I almost forgot.”

“You almost forgot your own birthday?” Marcille said, aghast. “You mean…you haven’t celebrated yet?”

“No. I’d rather not make a big deal about it though. I haven’t celebrated in years.”

“Why not?” Marcille asked.

“Misiril always made me eat a special kind of Elvish cake that she would get from the fanciest shops. It was gross and terrible and I always had to force a smile when I ate it. Stopped liking my birthday when I was around 8,” Kabru said, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Well, I’ll need to get you something!” Marcille said enthusiastically.

“And we’ll bake you a cake like the Tallmen make! So fluffy and good!”

“You really don’t need to,” Kabru said awkwardly.

“But I want to!” Marcille said earnestly. “It’ll be tomorrow though because it’s so late…but I’ll do it! Just you wait! I won’t take no for an answer!”

“Well okay,” Kabru said with a laugh. “Thanks Marcille.”

Soon Kabru was walking down the hall towards the throne room, his face arranged in a worried expression. What could he want to talk about? What was wrong? It must be something incredibly serious. The hour was late, and to be alone for the whole night? Countless scenarios flashed through Kabru’s mind, each more dire than the next. When he arrived at the throne room, two guards stood outside of it.

“Sir Kabru,” one of them said.

“Just Kabru please,” Kabru said. “Does the King still need me?”

“Indeed,” the other guard said. There was something about his tone…his face was almost completely covered by his helmet, but Kabru could still see a smirk on his face. What was going on?

The doors opened and swiftly closed, and Kabru walked in, jaw immedietly hitting the floor. There was a table before him piled up high with foods he hadn’t seen in years, desserts he only saw in his dreams. And on the throne…

Kabru gulped. Laios was seated, no not seated, lounging on the throne. He sat at an angle, one leg thrown over an arm of the chair. He was wearing loose fitting pants and his cape…but there was no shirt to be seen. His barrel chest and soft yet strong belly were on full display, and Kabru could feel his mouth watering. It had been far too long since he’d seen his king like this.

“What are you doing?” Kabru asked, shaking his head. However, the smile on his face betrayed his true feelings.

“Wishing you a happy birthday,” Laios said, and swung his leg forward. He got up and strode over to Kabru. “I did some research, and found that there were some cookbooks left over from Utaya. I had my chefs prepare some of the dishes I found.”

“Laios…” Kabru murmured, looking at the spread before him. “You didn’t have to…but since you did, thank you.”

“Anything for you, ocean eyes,” Laios said. Kabru looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

“I haven’t heard that name in a while,” he said, and Laios looked away, an ashamed look on his face.

“I know,” he said. “It’s been way too long. And it’s my fault.”

“Yes it is,” Kabru said, picking up a small pastry and taking a bite. He let out a pleased hum and nodded in approval. “If it wasn’t for this, I might not have forgiven you.”

“I wouldn’t abandon you, you know that right?” Laios said, coming up behind Kabru and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Just…so many things have come up. And since you don’t want to share a room--”

“That would raise too many brows,” Kabru said firmly. “We’re not married, people would talk.”

“We could be,” Laios said, and Kabru froze.

“Excuse me?”

“We could be married,” Laios said.

“Laios…” Kabru said, turning around in Laios’ grasp to face him. “Do you think that’s wise? I’m your adviser.”

“I don’t care,” Laios said. “I lo--”

“Stop.” Kabru said, putting a finger to Laios’ lips. “Don’t say things you’ll regret.”

Laios gently removed Kabru’s hand and began kissing the side of his palm. “What makes you think I’d regret saying it?” he said.

“Well, you wouldn’t be able to t-take it back, because…because…” Kabru said, stuttering slightly as Laios took a finger into his mouth and gently sucked.

“You and your oral fixation,” Kabru said with a chuckle, and automatically began thrusting it in and out of Laios’ mouth. Laios let out a slight moan, and Kabru chuckled.

“You should activate the runes,” Laios said as he released Kabru’s finger, nodding towards Kabru’s crotch.

“You want dick tonight?” Kabru asked, smirking.

“You wanna know what I want?” Laios asked, his voice dropping an octave, words dripping with honey. “I want to suck you off and then have you ride me on the throne.”

“Oh, so you want the best of both worlds, I see,” Kabru said.

“Greedy.”

“Maybe,” Laios said. “I want you…all of you. It’s been so long. You want it too, right?”

Kabru bit his lip. Part of him wanted to be grumpy that Laios had let it go this long without so much as cuddling him. But the other part of him wanted sex, and wanted it now.

“Fuck yeah,” Kabru said, giving in, and Laios let out a low rumble of approval. A shudder went through Kabru, and he let out and undignified squeak as Laios pulled him in by the hips. Laios wasn’t usually this…assertive. Kabru was used to leading the show, but this was a nice change of pace.

Neither of them knew who leaned in first, but soon the sound of lips on lips filled the air, a soft moan escaping every now and then. Kabru briefly wondered if the guards would be able to hear them, but suddenly found that he didn’t really care at the moment. He threaded his fingers through Laios’ hair and gently tugged, getting a low moan in response.

“You like that?” Kabru asked, eyes hooded.

“Yes,” Laios said.

“Yes what?” Kabru asked.

“Yes sir,” Laios said.

“Very good. On your knees,” Kabru said. Laios looked like a cat who had just caught a canary as he got down on his knees, eyes bright with excitement. Kabru slowly undid his belt, and Laios let out a whine.

“Patience is a virtue,” Kabru said in a sing song voice, and Laios stuck out his lower lip.

Kabru undid his pants, and let them drop to the floor before stepping out of his underwear. Laios looked at Kabru’s cunt, hunger in his eyes.

“Want a taste before I change?” Kabru asked, and Laios nodded. He moved under Kabru and angled his head so he could swipe his tongue along the smaller man’s folds with ease. Kabru stifled his moans as Laios lapped at him, and finally pushed him away.

“Thought you wanted to suck some dick,” Kabru said. Laios wiped his mouth and nodded.

“I do,” he said. “But let loose okay? Please. Sir.” Laios added on quickly.

“What does that mean?” Kabru asked.

“I want to hear you,” Laios said. “Let me hear you.”

“Your guards…” Kabru said, and Laios shook his head.

“I paid them double not to talk,” Laios said. “It’ll be fine.”

“Well…okay,” Kabru said. He closed his eyes and touched the tattoo of several sigils that were written in an arc above his mound. He began to recite the incantation, and soon his body began to change.

“It’s so cool that you can do that,” Laios said, looking at the dick that was now before him.

“Shut up and suck,” Kabru said, but the harshness in his voice was barely there, his tone more teasing than anything. Laios nodded, and slowly took him into his mouth, reaching up and putting Kabru’s hand on top of his head. Kabru gripped Laios’ hair, and his eyes rolled back as his lover began to suck.

“Fuck��” Kabru groaned, and Laios bobbed his head faster. He lapped and sucked at Kabru’s cock, stroking him when his jaw began to ache. It was getting to be too much, and soon Kabru was thrusting into Laios’ mouth, fucking his face hard and fast. Laios relaxed his jaw, moaning around his cock. The slight vibrations sent Kabru over the edge, fireworks bursting before his eyes, and he cried out as his cum striped the back of Laios’ throat white.

Kabru felt like he was about to pass out, the orgasm had been so intense.

“Good…good job…” Kabru panted. “Now it’s your turn.”

He touched the sigils again, and soon his cock had changed back to his wet, soaking cunt.

Laios grinned, and before Kabru knew it, he had been swooped up into Laios’ arms, bridal style.

“Laios!” Kabru said, shocked, face flushed.

“What?” Laios asked innocently. Kabru knew that Laios knew full well that his displays of strength were a huge turn on for Kabru. He looked away, and Laios chuckled darkly.

“It is my turn, isn’t it?” Laios said. “I get to have you how I want you.”

“It’s my birthday,” Kabru countered.

“So you’re saying you don’t want this?” Laios asked.

“No,” Kabru grumbled, and Laios grinned, carrying him to the throne.

It took a bit of scooting around, but soon Kabru was in reverse cowgirl while Laios lounged on the throne, slowly sliding down onto his cock. Laios was an average length, but he was thick. The way he stretched Kabru open felt incredible, and Kabru’s eyes rolled back as he fully seated himself. God he had missed this. Missed getting to ride this perfect cock.

Gently, Laios thrusted up, and soon they got into a rhythm. Kabru had almost forgotten just how noisy his king was, gasps and loud cries of pleasure ripped from his throat.

“You like it?” Kabru asked. “You like me riding you?”

“Yes…yes!” Laios cried out. “I love it, I love you!” he shouted out, thrusting upwards one last time. The two of them came together, cum filling Kabru up as he wailed in ecstasy.

“I told you…not to…say that…” Kabru panted as they came down from their highs.

“Too bad,” Laios said. “I said it. I meant it. I’m not taking it back, ever.”

Kabru paused.

“Promise?” he asked.

“Promise,” Laios said.

“Then…I love you too,” Kabru said in a small voice, lifting himself off of Laios’ cock. He was suddenly pulled into a bear hug, and made a surprised sound before melting into it.

“I love you,” Kabru said again, and Laios kissed the top of his head.

“I love you too. Happy birthday Kabru.”

[this-is-krikkit]

no more boops? have a fic instead!

rating: Mature relationships: Erwin Smith/Mike Zacharias, Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë

summary: Teleworking at Erwin's place grants Mike a front row seat to his boss honoring a stupid dare. Let's be honest, though: it has other perks.

additional tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, slightly kinky, Light BDSM, very light actually most of it is only mentioned, Based on a Tumblr Post, i gave Nanaba a family name for the narrative, i also gave her a couple heart attacks. also for the narrative!, Tumblr Prompt, Mike and Hange both wearing their boyfriends' shirts Challenge: complete, Office Romance

inspired by:

enjoy!!

“To conclude this meeting and another productive week, I’d like to have everyone’s attention for a few of our most pressing matters.”

Oh, he’s going to do it now, Mike realizes.

For the hundredth time in the last hour and a half, he has to check that both his microphone and camera are offline. He’s not usually so easily spooked about these things, but it’s one thing to want your privacy during a meeting with twenty people and the company’s CEO himself making a presentation, and it’s another to have to hide the fact that you’re teleworking from said CEO’s penthouse apartment every Friday because you’ve been secretly —Mike’s decided that drunkenly confessing to Nanaba a few weeks back doesn’t count— fucking each other for months now against all company guidelines.

He almost feels sorry for not warning his friend Hange, the only one besides Erwin and a few less highly ranked colleagues who’s currently got their camera on —and who is probably unaware of that fact, seeing how their crumpled shirt is hanging open as far as he can see— for what’s about to happen, but he couldn’t do that without giving himself away.

“I’m going to need Business Development, Sales and Marketing to work together closely on the Titan project next quarter. Zoë, Ackerman and Zacharias, as respective heads of these divisions, I’ll require that you regularly meet and update me directly on this matter. It’s a great challenge, but I have no doubt your BDSM task force, as I’ve labeled it, will tackle it under the deadline I stipulated earlier.”

It’s probably unnoticeable to everyone else with his camera so high on his laptop’s screen, but Mike knows he didn’t imagine the way Erwin’s eyes just settled on him, all the way over where he’s lounging on the comfy couch in his boss’ home office, when he said the acronym Mike dared him to place. Knowing this was coming does little to stop Mike’s shock at hearing the awfully casual way he enunciated those letters, and it’s physically painful to have to contain his hilarity —Erwin’s microphone is definitely still on and it’s not that big a room— when he glances back down and sees Erwin actually put it into bold, huge characters onto an otherwise blank slide.

His eyes catch movement on his screen then, and he realizes that some screens that were previously showing faces have suddenly gone dark.

His friend Hange's, however, hasn’t. In fact, they’re currently losing their mind over what just happened, and they’re definitely unaware of their camera being on if the image of them picking up their laptop and running into another room before settling it down in front of Levi as they hurriedly gesture at —Mike’s guessing since their microphone is still thankfully muted— Erwin’s scandalous slide is anything to go by.

It’s not unusual for Hange and Levi, two of the most important people in this company and annoyingly close friends —who, in Mike’s opinion, are two close idiots who really are in love with each other and should get together already— to be spending teleworking days together.

But something is… off in this picture.

Then Mike realizes, now that he’s seen them standing, that Hange’s shirt’s probably been hanging open because it’s obviously several sizes too small. And, before Levi’s eyes comically widen and he extends his arm towards their camera to turn their tiny window black as well, it finally clicks in Mike’s brain.

That wasn’t just Levi.

That was Levi and his naked torso, sculpted by the endless hours he spends in the same gym Mike trains at, and covered in hickeys.

Mike steals a glance at Erwin, but his boss is now calmly calling the end of the meeting, his usual poker face on although there’s no way in hell he didn’t notice what just transpired.

Before he can think of addressing it out loud as Erwin turns his computer off and stands from his chair, Mike’s phone chimes with Nanaba’s special ringtone. He sighs and picks up, knowing making his best friend wait after these very interesting last few minutes isn’t the best idea.

“Mike, what the fuck?” She starts, and Mike rolls his eyes as he rethinks of the countless times she’s threatened him with days long HR seminars about his swearing. “You and Eyebrows did this on purpose, didn’t you? Hange’s freaking out so bad right now!”

She’s being so loud the sound of her voice carries way further than Mike’s phone speaker, and Erwin mouthes the nickname back at him with obvious amusement, now close enough to sit with him on the couch.

“Well, first of all, I didn’t know their camera would be on,” he says, trying not to sound as defensive as the guilt he feels about his other friend’s distress wants him to. “And besides, it serves them right for not telling me they're finally hooking up with Levi! Did you know and forget to tell me by any chance?"

Mike shares a glance with Erwin at that, who shakes his head condescendingly at his outrage —and if Mike wasn’t almost sure his boss had figured his two friends out before they all just got accidental proof of their relationship, now he is— and extends one arm over the back of the couch to scoot even closer to Mike’s lap, before casually starting to leave feather light kisses along his neck.

“You do not have a fucking leg to stand on here, Mister Secret CEO Boyfriend,” Nanaba scolds over the phone, making Mike freeze at the unexpected title, even as the pressure of Erwin’s lips only increases against his sensitive skin. “Which, by the way, I know this was his idea and not yours, you’re not twisted enough to come up with something like this. And I know I said I wanted to make friends with the big boss now that you two are doing the horizontal tango, but I’m not so sure it’s a good idea after—

“That’s alright, Miss Fischer,” Erwin interrupts, taking advantage of the speechless state his hickeys have left Mike into, sounding way too unbothered for their current predicament. “I’m not here to make friends anyway.”

There’s a sudden squeal followed by the muffled sound of Nanaba possibly trying to catch her phone before it falls from her grip.

“Erw— Mister Smith? Oh my God. Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Sir, Mike never said… I mean, had no idea you could overhear—”

“It’s alright,” Erwin says again, pausing to nibble at the skin over Mike’s collarbone, who’s trying to glare at him even though he knows it’s a lost cause. “I’ll see you Monday, Miss Fischer. Have a restful weekend.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry again. I’ll see you on Monday, Sir.”

Erwin takes the phone away before she’s even done and throws it behind him on the cushions, not bothering to check that the call effectively cut —although Mike’s sure it did, because Nanaba sounded absolutely terrified.

“You just terrorized your HR Director,” he tries, still panting from Erwin’s most recent attention to his neck.

“I know,” Erwin singsongs like he just got praised instead of scolded, nipping along Mike’s jaw playfully now.

“Did you do it because of the nickname, or because I told you she had a crush on me back when we started at the company?”

Erwin chuckles, his breath fanning over Mike’s overheated skin in the process, and draws back far enough to look him in the eyes.

“Come on, I don’t hold such childish grudges,” he says smoothly, predatory smile firmly in place.

Mike bites back his own smile, and tries to keep his face neutral.

“You know I’m aware that you’re lying, right?”

Erwin only grins wider and lets his hand travel along his torso, down his abdomen, and finally cups him briefly over his pants, tearing a hiss out of him that effectively ruins his attempt to appear unimpressed.

“And you know I’m aware of how much that turns you on, right?” he asks in his ear.

"Fuck. Kiss me,” Mike orders.

He doesn’t often use this tone of voice, but you'd need to be blind not to notice the surprising effect it has on such an authoritative figure as Erwin Smith.

But his boss still isn’t one to give up control that easily, as assure the previous times they’ve been together in bed —or this couch, his kitchen, his bathroom... even under his on site desk one memorable time— combined with the way their lips fight for dominance the second they connect and the rough hands that immediately begin tearing at his clothes —well, at Erwin’s shirt that he borrowed today, actually, so Mike really couldn’t care less about the buttons sent flying around the room right now.

Mike lets out a gasp as Erwin pushes him firmly onto his back and trails his hands over the skin he’s just uncovered. His fingers find Mike’s nipples and pinch them, reaching that perfect line between pain and pleasure right away as Mike curses as much as he blesses how well Erwin’s come to know his body in only a few months of casual —is it still casual? Erwin didn’t exactly react to Nanaba calling him Mike’s boyfriend earlier— sex encounters.

The edges of his mind are already getting fuzzy, but Mike doesn’t let himself completely fall under Erwin’s spell yet.

One of his hands cups the back of Erwin’s head and adjusts the angle with enough force to bury his face in his neck, tickling his skin with the facial hair he knows Erwin finds irresistible and unexpectedly biting down, hard. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise; but for one, it’s low enough that Erwin will be able to hide whatever faded mark is left after the weekend under a high collar shirt; and this move is one of Erwin’s weaknesses that’s never failed before.

It doesn’t disappoint now, either, and Erwin moans loudly and goes slack enough at the sudden teeth impact to let Mike switch their position and land on top of him instead.

“You really shouldn’t lie to me, Mister Smith,” he growls as he settles on top of him, rotating his hips so his ass rubs against the hardening erection in Erwin’s pants even as he brings one hand to wrap his around his throat. 

He spreads his fingers around his airway, teasing gently before he starts squeezing.

“Wait,” Erwin chokes out suddenly.

Mike lets go of his neck at once, dropping the act and cupping his cheek instead.

“Red?” he asks, searching Erwin’s eyes for signs of pain.

He tried to erase the surprise from his voice but knows he only partially succeeded —choking is certainly not where they’ve ever drawn the line before. Then again, if that’s what Erwin needs right now, of course he’ll stop.

“No, of course not,” Erwin says, dismissing his concerns with a scoff. “But don’t you want your assignment first?”

“Oh. Well, sure, but why… I mean, what is it, do you think I’m going to fuck your brains out so hard you won’t remember when I’m done with you?” he teases, grinding against him again.

“Actually, yes,” Erwin breathes through a tender smile.

There’s no trace of humor in his tone or on his face now, and Mike is split between a surge of white hot arousal at knowing his lover genuinely thinks that highly of him, and near-overwhelming affection for the sometimes disarmingly honest, always unpredictable, and forever complicated man he’s currently pinning down on expensive leather they’re about to ruin.

“Alright,” he concedes, putting both hands on each side of Erwin’s head and stilling his movements. “What inappropriate word do you charge me to use in workplace conversation next week, Sir?”

Erwin curls his index to coax Mike closer. He follows the order and leans over him until Erwin’s able to take his lower lip between his teeth and suck on it, and Mike’s groan lingers even after he’s let go with a loud pop.

“C.B.T,” Erwin enunciates.

Mike closes his mouth and swallows. Hard.

Erwin smirks up at him, his clever hands using the distraction to unbutton and unzip Mike’s pants in one fluid movement.