#God she never left she lives in a mansion in my head since the early 2010s

[milfhandholder]

Random Grell thingz I've accumulated in my head bcs I'm delusional but without context bcs I am going to write a legit novel abt this woman one day

Idc what anyone says, I am an avid believer of the fact that Grell has always been considered beautiful by her peers even in her human life

LIKE SHE'S THE MOST SOUGHT AFTER SUITOR OF HER SEASON, SHE WAS AN IT GIRL BEFORE THEY KNEW WHAT AN IT GIRL IS

She's so beautiful that the Victorians could've started kpop PC first bcs of her and trade them like actual kpoppers

Grell always knew about her being queer (minus actual label bcs Victorian era duh) but not about her gender

"Wait so you people don't fantasize about having boobs? Not at all? No?"

It was maybe 6 years into her reaper life when she finally got the memo that "hey girlie, you're actually a girl"

Her crisis went a bit like this: straight man -> gay man?? -> 'oh no I like girls too' bi man -> died LMAO -> 'I hate everyone and I hate my gender' questioning -> 'maybe I have no gender at all. I like girls though' (she was exclusive to girls only so I guess??lesbian?? Who cheered) -> transwoman questioning -> !! transwoman bi !!

Was in a 'lavender marriage' with a closeted lesbian for maybe 2 - 3 years before her suicide. Grell sort of fell in love with her but understandably never confessed. Fast forward to present time AND GRELL IS HITTING THE FLOOR, SCREAMING, CRYING

She had a lot of rage as a young reaper because she never really got over 'my parents suck' mindset that stood by her as she died

HATED WILLIAM. As much as I love the OVA, I will stand by my words that it would’ve been so much more interesting if Grell buried / was embarassed about her crush and acted like a dick towards him BECAUSE WHY, OF ALL THE MEN IN DISPATCH, DID IT HAVE TO BE WILLIAM T SPEARS

Mellowed out eventually and cool character development happened

Has more experience with and confidence in dating girls, she's very anxious (and perhaps frightful) about men reciprocating her advances

Being made "an experience" does that to you

Fun fact: she's the first and only woman William ever had a crush on. Good taste dude

She was projecting her ex wife A LOT onto Madam but it's ok bcs it was vice versa you see, Madam projected too BUT THEN THESE BITCHES TALKED IT OUT and everything is all ok and cool and OH GOD GRELL NOOOOOOOOO 😭😭😭😭

Speaks German and French, is the go to translator for German Dispatch businesses until Ludger (and eventually Sascha joined in as a bonus and a translator) was forced to sharpen his English

Now for the E discourse.... someone made a typo one day and she went with it

Grell: You see, when you go to France, they make you get a name in French. That's why I can go by Grell Sutcliff or Grelle Sutcliffe

Ron, an idiot who has never been anywhere except his hometown: oh shit fr??

Eric's her first ACTUAL reaper friend which is sad ngl LMAOOO

Firm believer that the reapers have mentorships for gifted students that started in Ron's year and that Grell was her mentor READ MY RON FIC, IM OBSESSED WITH THEM

Mentoring Ron (aka a few years before Jack the Ripper) was the moment where she was the healthiest, mentally

Then she divorced Madam, had a falling out with William and oops she regressed el em ao. Don't tell any of her friends though, they'd start annoying her to get better

People older and the same age as her are wildly terrified of her. This is in contrast to (most) juniors who are so in love with the idea of her

Harbors a lot of guilt, grief, rage, anger, jealousy, insecurity, narcissism, etc. She's just a good actress

Her butler persona was her mocking three people at once: her father's (brunette) appearance, her mother's wish for Grell to be more obedient, and Grell's old self that let people walk all over her for the sake of maintaining her family name

Her family is rich rich though she can't remember for what. She doesn't really care eitherway so

Can be very insensitive!! It doesn't help that she's friends with people who'd give the same energy back (Eric and Othello) or people who just don't care enough (William)

She learned how to hold her tongue when she realized Ron was genuinely upset with her rude comments. Ironically, Ron learned how to have thicker skin because of said comments

Likes dogs, sorry Sebastian

Good at fencing! Not much else in other sports!!

She hates sports sm, they make her sweat and they are tedious and they're exhausting and THEY'RE BORING

The only ranged weapon she'd try out is a gun.

She's no wuss

Yeah that's all that I can think of lmao

[zacwuv]

My Glittering Friend (Erotica/Tentacles/MonsterxHuman/3k)

In a large and mysterious mansion resting at the edge of a nameless city, there lives a woman named Ani Berlough with rather particular tastes. The entire first floor of her home is dedicated to shelves of books, trinkets, and jars full of oddities. A large mahogany table is at the center, and there she usually sits to organize and summarize each new item or friend she has acquired.

Ani has many travelers and traders that she works with, though she would never mention them to one another. Their relationships are a pact between each other, and their trades are secrets just for them. Ani has solidified this as a fundamental promise before any work can be done, because - unfortunately - what she desires from some traders can at times be a problem for other traders to be aware of.

She’s a powerful woman with powerful needs. And now, sitting in silence at her mahogany table simply writing notes, one of those needs slowly builds and thickens at the base of her stomach. Her thighs twitch, then fold over each other.

She huffs at what’s left to be done of her work and glances across her shelves, though there’s not a soul in sight. No visitors today, no travelers, no traders...Hm. Since it’s early afternoon, she doubts any will come.

Ani knows herself well. She’s already distracted, so she may as well…yes, she may as well.

Ani places her pencil down and flips her light burgundy hair over her shoulder. The tall, admittedly ostentatious, chair she sits in scrapes against the flooring as she pushes it back to stand, and the sound echoes.

Some distance behind where she sits, there is a gaping hall between two bookshelves that reach the ceiling. The hall stays dark at all times. Only Ani can walk through. As she walks, she adjusts the belt holding her wrap-dress closed, excitement beginning to thrum down her arms all the way to her toes. The darkness grazes her skin in hello and she smiles in return.

Ani reaches a door that she habitually knows the location of. She pushes against it and closes her eyes against the bright afternoon sunlight. The door shuts silently behind her.

Her yard is a hub of her interests. She ignores all but the cave that sits at the base of a small mountain that she uses to grow particular herbs and flora. She prefers to be barefoot, so she makes sure to take the tending of her yard very seriously. The grass is soft between her toes as she walks toward the opening. Yellow flowers have been sporadically growing here in clumps, but they’re small and harmless, which is not what she can say about some other flora that attempts to grow in her gardens.

The yellow flowers rise in quantity as she crosses the caves’ threshold and walks deeper in the tunnel that the opening becomes.

Ani loves the shift from sunlight to blue luminescence that occurs when she passes a certain point of the tunnel. She breathes deeply in and feels the mint-like chill that tingles down her throat. God. She loves that feeling. Her pace picks up and the edges of her mouth can’t help but twitch upwards about her own child-like excitement.

The tunnel leads straight to an alcove that is softly glowing blue. The light emanating comes from clear-blue crystals that grow downwards from the ceiling of the space. Taking up about half of the floor below the crystals is a pond, and the soft shifting of the water creates fluctuating light of silvers and light blues against the walls of the alcove. It’s here that the yellow flowers truly take over, and they cover the rest of the free ground surrounding the pond. Ani treads across the flowers to reach the edge of the water and kneel before it. She knows they’ll grow back.

She flares out her dress around her legs, then leans her head over the water to stare down into it. Her breasts are large enough that they threaten to spill over the collar of her dress, but she pays it no mind. Her limits of indecency are incredibly contextual.

For a moment, all she can see is the blurry reflection of her face in the water. When something glimmering shifts beneath the surface, she smiles. The glimmering collects itself into a shape, almost like a silver fish swimming upwards. But what breaches the surface of the water isn’t a fish.

Something gelatin-like and almost see-through pops up in front of Ani’s face. It’s thin and rounded at the tip, but acquires girth at Its base as it extends higher from the water, and keeps rising until what you can see of its bottom is as thick as Ani’s thigh, like the tentacle of a very large octopus. The light from the crystals make it seem to have an aqua tint. Along with the sparkle-like shine that’s across Its form, when It moves, It shifts between being clear as water, then clear and blue, and glittering like a crystal all at once.

“Good afternoon, Dear,” Ani says, looking up at the tip, eyes sparkling. It wiggles up and down, like a little wave, then leans in close. She kisses the tip, and a tiny vibration ripples across Its surface. Ani giggles. “How have you been today?”

Ani doesn’t notice two other tips breaching the waters’ surface, since she’s distracted by placing kisses across the one that’s in front of her. They grow from either side of the first, and travel low and sneakily to the side of Ani’s knees. They wrap suddenly around her ankles and pull forward, effectively flipping Ani onto her back with an, “Oop!” as she lands, cushioned by the flowers and the soft dirt beneath them.

“Getting right to it, hm?” Ani laughs. The smaller ones get to work on snapping off her belt and slipping off her underwear, easily accessible since her loose wrap-dress now lies gaping open. Meanwhile, the main entity rises tall above Ani, practically looming over her, Its base now thicker than Ani’s body. But this doesn’t make Ani nervous. She only smiles wide and purrs, “Wonderful.”

Read the rest on my website here (1 8+ only!!)

[doverstar]

Usually I'm not one to comment on fics I read but- you said you liked reading opinions, and I have many thoughts about it in my head right now |･･๑)

I discovered LAR from a fanart here on tumblr few days ago- I must say the idea of Rose and Eleven never crossed my mind before, and this fic opened that window in my head XD

I got to reading it then and have been reading it all through the few bits of free time I've had, past few days. I reached and finished chapter 11 yesterday, and god. I'm in love with all of it

I want to start by saying your characterization of all the characters is marvellous. Rose with Jackie and Pete at the mansion, Rory and Amy living in the apartment with Will. You make all of it feel very familiar and lovely, very domestic in their own flavour— and I love domestic. There's also the way the narrator voice plays along with that, with the characters and their own dynamics. It kept feeling like Jackie's very own characteristic voice pitch was there written in those words, or the way Amy's scot-ness fills the room, and also how Will's frequent awkwardness dripped through the sentences and pauses themselves. It felt like everything was a tad bit funnier whenever Rory was present, a feeling I also got from the show, and I am immeasurably happy to see that essence expressed so well again 🤲

Secondly. Will. You made him so easy to love I can almost miss him already— and I admittedly can't stop thinking about the people he knew in this universe that will miss him too :(. I seemingly fell in love with him very early on and ended up sympathising with him quite a bit. He is truly just a little bean, and I'm still not recovering from the confusion and pain he had to go through there in the last few chapters (amazingly written, made my heart crumble a lil.)

And then- the way it's empathised all of the carrying on Rose had to do since the Doctor left her here, all of the mental backflips she's been going through, and all of the carrying on she continues to do, even with Will, even with all of it. But, the way she looks at him now that she knows (it was worth it, perhaps), and how she realizes how much new information she's gonna have to take in of him— and vice versa. Honorary mention to his "Your hair is different. Is it longer?", because it still does make me smile xD

My friend has been listening to me ramble about this almost nonstop, our DMs are filled with screenshots and quotes (and keysmashes as frantic screaming from me, very frequently). Even I am surprised at the amount of things I've annotated and all the quotes I've written down. Seriously, it's delightful.

Thank you immensely for bringing this story to us 🤍

The way a slow smile just came right up on my face and kept getting bigger until my eyes hurt, reading this -

That fanart you're talking about is by @milkbanjo and everyone should follow that account and applaud all of @milkbanjo's art! Not just LAR-related pieces. Because it's so good and I love it and I will be watching for more. I'm so pleased you decided to Ask me and tell me all of this! I would encourage you to comment whenever you like something you're reading; it's such an inspiration and this made my day to read. I was going for a domestic feel without making it an intentionally-domestic fanfic, so I'm relieved you can feel the domesticity. I tried to give it the same sensation watching any scene on Earth in RTD's era (specifically scenes with Jackie Tyler herself in them) of the show gave me. There's something in all the low-budget, early-2000's of it that is really comforting to me. I wanted to try to put in the same comfort without making it that well-loved "oh and now they're cooking together and don't you feel cozy?" contrivance. (No shame in that, just not the point of my story! Didn't want to drown it in that warm milk. Too much warm milk makes me nauseous.) They're just people living lives, I wanted to show that in between the adventure scenes. Doctor Who really needs that sometimes! In my Nobody opinion.

I too think everything is funnier when Rory is in the room! I too find Amy the sort of personality to fill a space. And you just have no idea how much I loved writing for Will. I almost neglected the other characters in favor of the human version of the eleventh incarnation of that man. I have so much insane (new this year?) affection for Eleven. I hope it wasn't too obvious that I think he's the sweetest and want to hug him (I have actually met Matt Smith and got to hug him and let me tell you, he gives good hugs! but I admit Peter Capaldi's hug was even better-). Will is the second-closest I've gotten to hugging the eleventh. What a doll. I could go on about Eleven but I will cap the gushing by saying he is the Doctor every quiz has ever said I would get along with best and I scoffed at that till this past year, oh how time and age changes our taste buds - Your thoughts on Rose and her perspective in my fic and your enjoyment of the Doctor's "your hair is different" line makes me grin ever wider. You get it! *big sigh of relief* I love that you and your friend get to enjoy it like that! Would be interested to know which quotes you favor most, but this comment alone is more than enough for me to draw upon when in need of motivation; thank you for it! You are so welcome, and thank you for taking the time to read what I wrote and let me know what you thought. <3

[atticuswritesstuff]

Chrollo with a smarty pants/genius darling who acts out or tries to escape just because they’re bored/understimulated?

Author's note: I actually really fucking love this prompt so I am SUPER excited for this one. I too get very bored/understimulated often. Sorry, I got to it late cuz I just got back from a Montana trip!

Yandere!Chrollo x Bored!Reader

Summary: Chrollo's darling becomes bored being locked up all the time, decides to take yet another unsupervised trip out of the mansion.

Warnings: Anal/Assplay, overstimulation, punishment, spanking, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, yandere themes, BDSM themes, degradation

Character Description: afab, she/her use that's it

Word count: 4.5k

Attempt number seven. Seven times you had slipped through his fingers since the beginning of the year alone, each time becoming more and more elaborate.

Chrollo scoffed, storming through the woods, scanner in hand. It was beeping softly, indicating you weren't far.

It wasn't like you made any attempt to escape discreetly, jamming a fork into the neck of one of Chrollo's guards, puncturing his jugular before you made your way through the garden to the edge of the forest. As Chrollo watched a recording of it from the cameras, he was shocked at how nonchalantly you stabbed him before calmly walking off. If you had intended to run far, you weren't moving very fast.

The tracker started beeping a little faster now. He was getting closer.

The early April air was nipping at his cheeks, he couldn't fathom how you were out here in your pajamas, barefoot at that. Chrollo was more worried about you than just finding you. While your previous attempts had been clever, methodical, and downright genius, this time was very different to him. As far as he knew, you'd never killed anyone, and now you had decided to not only kill someone but patiently wait for him to be unfocused before sneaking upon him. You planned this.

Chrollo walked a couple more meters, finding the tracker was leading him to the nearby lake. When he came to the forest's edge, he could see you sitting at the edge of the dock, staring up at the moon.

You heard him approaching as soon as he broke through the treeline, it took him a bit longer to retrieve you than expected, although you attributed that to him thinking you were going to try and run far. A couple miles from the house wasn't necessarily far for a commoner, but this was farther than you'd ever been allowed.

Chrollo's heavy footsteps walked the length of the dock, stopping right behind you. He knew you would come quietly, after the first few times, you'd stopped escaping to try and get away, instead, you found the chase to be much more thrilling.

"Time to go, darling," He hummed nonchalantly.

"Five more minutes," You replied, swishing your feet through the near-freezing water, "The moon is so pretty tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

Chrollo gazed down at you, you were surprisingly clean considering you'd just stabbed someone. Not a single drop of blood on you anywhere. The only thing shielding you from the cold being a thin cami and a shamefully short pair of shorts.

Chrollo always admired your body, but the pajamas were a nice touch. They were a recent purchase, baby blue fabric with white lace trim, god how he wanted to tear the set off you.

"I didn't think you'd have it in you to take a man's life, darling," Chrollo stated.

"I didn't either," You chuckled, "But it's done now."

"Why not just sneak away?" He replied, sitting on the dock next to you, "He was unfocused, you could've done it easily if this was where you intended to go all along."

"You're right, I didn't have to kill him," You sighed, bringing one of your feet onto the dock, "I just wanted to see if I could. You left an anatomy book on your desk, I found the major arteries of the body to be very interesting."

"Now that I think about it," You continued, "Maybe I should've run farther, seeing you so desperately trying to find me is rather amusing."

“You enjoy being chased like a rabbit?” Chrollo mused.

“Believe it or not the thrill is more exciting than anything you’ve ever gifted to me,” You scoffed, “At least running gave me something to do that required thought. Something you seem to forget to provide.”

Poking at Chrollo’s care tactics wasn’t smart, but you didn’t know how else to get through to him that your current environment was extremely understimulating, and that you needed more. You could tell he was growing upset, but he wouldn’t dare show it outside of the house.

You pulled your knee to your chest, resting your cheek against it, "Do I have to go back?"

"Of course you do, darling," Chrollo replied, a warm hand rubbing up and down your back, "Why wouldn't you?"

You scoffed, "Probably because being a prisoner of marble and glass is dreadfully boring."

Chrollo's hand stopped, "You think the life I've worked so hard to build is boring?"

"Yup," You replied flatly, "Honestly I thought you kidnapping me would be a lot more fun, but it's even more boring than my old life."

Chrollo was becoming angrier with each word that came out of your mouth.

"Don't get me wrong, I know how hard you try, but my god I don't know how you stand it. You're sweet and all, but you're gonna bore me to death sooner or later, escaping actually gives me something to do," You hummed, pulling your other foot out of the water, "Anyways, we can go back now, this chase was more boring than I expected."

You rose from your place, turning to walk back to your cage. It took Chrollo a minute to get up and follow you, partially from the shock of your completely arrogant and nonchalant demeanor. The person you had become over the past two years almost reminded him of a certain magician he once knew.

Chrollo eyed you as your hips swayed, every muscle in your leg flexing and relaxing as you walked. It was something he adored about you, before he took you, you were one of your tribe's best, strongest dancers. The way you swayed and glided while you did the most basic of tasks was alluring to him. Now, he just watched you sit around and observe everything.

The view from walking behind you wasn't necessarily bad, though. Your pajama shorts gave him a nice view of your ass as you walked.

Sauntering through the woods, you could no longer hide how cold you were, the incessant shivering and blue tint to your skin proved that fact. Your feet even more so from being in the water.

You knew Chrollo was upset with what you'd said, you could tell immediately, but keeping the truth from him wasn't an option anymore. You had started to care for him some time ago. You really appreciated him, but god if he didn't allow you to do something you were going to lose your mind.

When you could just barely make out the edges of the garden approaching, you stopped mid-path, "Chrollo?"

He caught up to you in an instant, "Yes, darling?"

"I don't want to go back if I have to live like this," You felt tears well up in your eyes, "Please."

His hands found your hips, "Live like what? Talk to me darling, how can I make it better?"

"I don't want to just sit around and wait for you to come back. I'm tired of you being at my beck and call. O-Or just fucking sitting around waiting for you to come back," You felt a solemn tear roll down your cheek, "It's so fucking boring. Please just take me with you or give me something I can do for you or-"

"Darling," He cut you off with a firm hand over your mouth, the other still settled on your hip. He shushed you softly, lessening the pressure on your mouth, "Don't panic, I'm listening. I promise I'm hearing you, just speak slowly alright?"

You nodded, he took his hand off your mouth slowly, "Keep going, what can I do to help you?"

You thought about it, more tears spilling down your cheeks, "Take me with you. Don't leave me by myself anymore. I just want to be useful."

Scooping you up bridal style as he headed towards the garden, "I understand. Even in your old life, you were always helping others, weren't you?"

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your head into him. Closing your eyes, you breathed in his scent, trying to commit it to memory.

Chrollo's feet hit the marble floors of the hallway that led into the house, you could feel his warmth returning as he carried you inside.

"While I understand your frustrations, you did try to escape my love," He started, bringing you into your shared bedroom, "And that requires a punishment."

You winced, shaking your head against him, "Please, not again! I'm really sorry Sir I can do better-"

"No," He shushed you, setting you on the foot of the bed, "I have the solution to your problem, but only if you take your punishment, alright?"

You nodded slightly, your tear-stained cheeks slightly puffy and red from the cold.

"Alright," He purred, his hands rubbing up and down your shoulders, "I'll try to make this at least somewhat pleasant for you, ok?"

You nodded once again, finding comfort in the fact that he was at least going to please you.

"Lay back for me," He stated, pushing you back by your shoulders, "I'll be right back."

You stared up at the ceiling in anticipation, the last punishment was hard enough, but you couldn't pass up the opportunity to finally get out of the house. Chrollo had returned from the closet, setting something on the bench at the foot of the bed. He took off his shirt before crawling over you.

"You know what your punishment is, right?" He asked, a face cupping your cheek.

You nodded, "Yes, Sir."

"Good girl," He whispered, leaning down to give you the softest of kisses, just barely ghosting over your lips as he pulled the knife out of his back pocket.

Pressing it to your throat, you froze, knowing it had already begun.

"Just focus on me, darling," Chrollo whispered against your lips, "I won't cut you."

He kissed you once more, harder this time as he slowly dragged the knife down your neck. It was a 50/50 chance he would intentionally cut you, even if he said he wouldn't. It was the only thing he'd ever lied to you about, knowing that made your heart race.

His tongue invaded your mouth as he slid the knife down your chest, coming back up to cut your bralette off in between your breasts. You didn't even register the pain from him grazing you with the knife until it started throbbing.

You looked down, seeing a thin line of blood-forming directly in between your breasts.

"Whoops," he chuckled, gazing down at the same mark you were. He sat up, straddling your hips and now pinning you to the bed by your throat. Your bare chest tempted him to carve his name into your breasts, then you'd really know who you belonged to. Chrollo briefly cut the straps of your bralette, allowing the flimsy fabric to fall away, revealing your breasts to him.

Setting the knife aside, Chrollo dragged his nails down your chest, briefly squeezing your waist before leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses all over your neck. He trailed downwards, backing off the bed as he kissed your waist, your breasts, swirling his tongue around each of your nipples lightly before backing off entirely.

"Turn over," Chrollo demanded.

"No." You said timidly, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"I'm sorry?" Chrollo replied smugly, "Wanna repeat that, darling?"

"I said n-no," You said, now even quieter than before.

"No? You don't want to be punished?" He asked, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs teasingly.

You shook your head to confirm that you indeed did not want to be punished in the way he was thinking.

"Even after killing my guard and escaping? You sure you don't want to be punished?" He asked again, his condescending tone making you whimper as you shook your head again.

Chrollo sighed, "Very well."

What? He's serious?

Untying the bandana from his forehead, he was quick to grab your hands and tie them together, placing them above your head, "I'll please you since I know that's what you really want."

Your heart jumped in your chest, somehow excited at the fact that you had gotten out of it.

Chrollo wasted no time cutting your shorts off, leaving you completely naked and exposed to him. He brought your legs up to the edge of the bed, bending them close to your chest, "Stay like this for a moment, ok?"

You gave him brief 'mhm' before he left, crossing the room to his chest of drawers. You heard him open it, the soft sound of things being moved around before he quickly came back. Craning your neck up to see what had been retrieved, you were quickly thwarted by Chrollo who pushed your head back down.

"Patience," He sighed, "Be a good girl now, hm?"

You grumbled, but let him hold you down. You knew this routine all too well, reminiscing about the fond memories of your legs pulling against the rope he was now starting to tie around your ankles. He took the time to tie up each leg, making sure they would not be able to come out of the bent position he'd placed them in.

"So pretty," Chrollo cooed, rubbing his hands up and down your waist, "Alright darling, eyes closed."

You shut your eyes as he brought a blindfold to your eyes, the soft silk being tied around the back of your head.

"There, now that you can't fight me," He started, using brute force to flip you over so you were bent over the edge of the bed, knees on the bench, "We can begin your punishment."

"That's not fair Si-"

A sharp smack was delivered to your ass, "Hush."

You went quiet, whimpering into the plush comforter.

"You"

Smack.

"Broke"

Smack.

"My"

Smack.

"Rules"

Each word was punctuated by a harsh spanking to one of your ass cheeks. You were only four in and it already stung.

"I'm sorry!" You cried, trying to wriggle away from Chrollo, "Please Sir!"

"Mm, please what darling? Please punish you?" He hummed, rubbing your bottom with smooth circles.

"Nuh!" You whined, your voice becoming whinier under the threat of fully submitting.

"I told you I would please you, but only if you took your punishment like a good girl," Chrollo hummed, leaving a kiss on each cheek, "Do you really expect me to please you when you're not going to comply darling?"

You whined, wiggling a bit more.

"What do good girls say, darling?" Chrollo asked, softly rubbing your arched back.

"P-please," You huffed.

"Please what, love?" He replied, quietly undoing the bottle of lube he had brought to the bed.

"Please punish me," You whispered, "Sir."

"That's my good girl," He hummed.

Chrollo squirted a bit of lube onto his first two fingers, letting it warm a bit before bringing them to your ass. Mewling as Chrollo started rubbing your puckered hole, he wasted no time plunging a digit into your ass.

"Fuck!" You cried out, feeling him slipping in and out up to his first knuckle. You shook against the rope.

"Aww, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were starting to enjoy this." He teased, pushing his finger up to his second knuckle, "You're taking me so well, I can only imagine how well you're going to do later."

You gave him a long, drawn-out moan in response. He wanted you to beg, either for more or for him to stop, either way, he wanted you to be a mess.

The discomfort started to fade as he pushed his two fingers fully into you. Now, you could feel your arousal dripping as he steadily finger-fucked your ass, trying to stretch you out best he could with just two fingers.

"Already taking my fingers so well," Chrollo cooed, picking up the pace, "I think you're ready to be punished, don't you?"

You shook your head, knowing what would come next.

"Oh come now, don't be like that darling." He replied, slowly pulling his fingers from your tight hole.

You whined at the loss of contact, while it wasn't quite the pleasure you wanted, it was starting to feel good. You waited patiently as Chrollo left the bed, finding the necessary tools needed in his bedside drawer before coming back to the bench.

In one hand, he held a set of purple anal beads that gradually got bigger, in the other, a vibrating wand he fully intended on using on you. While the vibrator wasn't ever used during a punishment, Chrollo saw it to be a mercy for your honesty, therefore, he would keep his word, making his punishment at least somewhat pleasurable for you.

"Tonight's going to be a bit different, love," Chrollo started, setting the vibrator on the bench, he began covering the anal beads in a generous amount of lube, "I need you to trust me, ok?"

You didn't know what he meant by different, you assumed more painful, but knew that there would be no pleasure without pain, "I trust you."

"Good," He hummed, rubbing the first ball against your lubed hole, "You ready?"

Your faint 'mhm' had Chrollo pushing the first ball in, earning a whimper from you. It wasn't much bigger than Chrollo's finger, but you could still feel it. Mere seconds later, he was pushing the second ball in, the equivalent to a little more than two of his fingers.

You were quietly whimpering and mewling into the comforter, hoping he wouldn't hear how much you were enjoying the slow stretch.

"I need your hands," Chrollo announced, pulling you firmly upward by your shoulders, "Put them here."

He shoved your arms down toward your pussy before pushing you back down on your chest. Before, your hands had been resting on the comforter above your head. Now, they were firmly squished between your thighs. You felt Chrollo press something round into your hands before tying your wrists up. Mid-tie, he readjusted the foreign object to rest against your clit.

The vibrator.

You began to squirm a little bit, knowing that this is what he meant by tonight being a little different. You waited patiently as he tied the ropes tight, making sure you wouldn't be able to move it away, then he turned it on.

"Ah...oh fuck," You moaned, the vibrator already working to make you come undone, "Sir.."

Your moans were becoming more sultry, needier, you began panting as your legs worked up to a steady shake, he knew he would break you tonight at this rate.

"See? I told you I would please you," Chrollo hummed, pushing the next ball in, you cried out even louder, "You have permission to cum whenever you'd like."

Knowing this was going to make it a lot harder, he wanted you to submit, to break, "D..Da-Ah!"

You were stuttering as the next ball was pushed in, your asshole stretching around it.

"What was that? I don't think I heard you, princess," Chrollo teased.

"Daddy!" You wailed, giving into the submission he so desperately wanted. Your pussy began fluttering around nothing as the vibrator sent deep shock waves through your pussy, "Please!"

"Please what, princess?" He smiled, palming your ass cheeks.

"Please punish me!" You moaned, needing more stimulation, "I'm sorry I tried to escape! I've been a bad girl!"

The sight of you writhing under him was pathetic, you were truly becoming a mess and he hadn't even really touched you. Seeing how hard you were trembling, Chrollo took pity on you. Watching your pretty pussy clench and release, needing some form of stimulation, he decided to at least grant you this mercy.

Plunging two fingers into your dripping hole, he crooked his fingers, quickly finding your g-spot, "Is this what my darling needs?"

"Yes! Oh, fu-fuck please daddy!" You moaned, fucking yourself on his fingers, "Gonna cum!"

"You have permission princess, it's ok," Chrollo reaffirmed, working his fingers inside you.

It only took seconds, the knot that had been building inside you finally burst, causing you to clench around his fingers. The vibrator held firm against your clit after, the pleasure becoming painful. You started to cry through the blindfold.

Chrollo licked the mess off his fingers before slowly starting to pull the anal beads out one by one. You whined and whimpered as he did so, the action only causing you to clench to avoid feeling empty. It did nothing, Chrollo continued to pull the remaining few beads out, your asshole gaping slightly

"Mm, you're doing so well baby," Chrollo sighed, pulling his own pants down. Pumping his cock a few times before rubbing the crown of it up and down your slick.

"Daddy! D-Don't do that!" You whined, trying to pull away from his ministrations.

"What? This?" Chrollo asked innocently, repeating the action.

You lost it, cumming on the spot as the tip ghosted over your pussy, your shame covered your face in a heavy blush. It barely took anything for you to cum with the stupid vibrator continuing to buzz against your clit at the highest setting.

"S-Sorry daddy.." you slurred, still trembling as you felt your mind go blank.

"Aww, is my baby that much of a cock drunk little slut?" Chrollo teased, pressing the tip of his painfully erect cock into your ass, "I know you are, my pretty little darling wanted to be punished this whole time, huh?"

You heard him, but could barely form enough of a sentence to answer.

Chrollo pushed into you slowly, relishing in the tightness of your ass, your gummy walls fluttering around him as you were overstimulated. The feeling of being full had your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

Once fully seated inside you, Chrollo slowly dragged his nails along your back before palming your ass. Pulling your ass cheeks apart with his thumbs, he gave a few long, slow thrusts, watching the way you clenched around his cock.

"Fuck," Chrollo moaned, "I almost don't even want to punish you with the way this tight little ass wraps around my cock."

You could only moan in response, trembling as he continued his tortuously slow pace.

"How many spankings do you think you'll receive from tonight's actions, princess?" Chrollo halted, only halfway inside as his hands trailed upwards along your outer thighs, "I think forty is a good number? What say you, love?"

"Nuh-uh!" You cried, wiggling against his touch as one of his hands left your skin, "Thirty!"

Chrollo chuckled at your offer, "I was originally going to settle for twenty-five, but thirty works for me, darling."

With a crushing force, Chrollo's hand came down.

Smack!

"Count, or I'll start over," Chrollo demanded.

"O-One," You whispered.

His other hand rose while the other soothed the spot he had just spanked.

Smack!

"Two!"

Smack!

"Three," Chrollo's hands were relentless, switching cheeks each time he smacked you in order to give your poor skin a break. He was merciful enough to rub the spot he had spanked before doing it again.

It took minutes to work your way up to the end, you came twice throughout the process as the vibrator held firm against your clit.

Smack!

"Twenty-eight!"

Smack!

"Twenty-nine!"

Smack!

"Th-Thirty!" You were sobbing, shaking uncontrollably under the weight of Chrollo's punishment.

"There we go, all done," Chrollo cooed, softly rubbing your cherry-red ass as he set another slow pace, "You did so well for me, darling."

A warmth grew in your chest, you really did enjoy being praised by Chrollo, even if it was after a punishment with his dick in your ass. He enjoyed it too, loving the way you clenched around his cock each time he spanked you, it took a lot of focus to not cum mid punishment.

You were writhing the pressure in your core already starting to build again, your trembling never stopped, even throughout your punishment. Chrollo kept up his word to please you, but god at what cost?

"I want you to cum for me again, angel," Chrollo hummed, his hands finding your waist as he began picking up the pace, "I want to absolutely ruin you."

"No no no! Daddy, I can't!" You sobbed, knowing you would be doing more than just cumming if this kept up.

"Oh? Is my princess trying to hide the pretty mess I know she can make?" Chrollo asked, knowing what you were implying.

Grabbing the knife, he cut the ropes from your legs. He rolled your limp form over onto your back, yanking the blindfold off so he could watch as you helped overstimulate yourself. With one arm by your head to support himself, he guided his cock back into your ass, resuming the brutal pace he set.

You held Chrollo's gaze as he went absolutely feral, drilling your ass while holding one of your legs up over his shoulder. You could barely conceal your tears at this point, broken moans showing him just how bad you needed a break, but he was intent on making you squirt before he stopped.

"I know you need this," Chrollo purred, pressing his forehead to yours, "Just give in to my love, your body wants this."

You started to shake harder, legs trembling even more aggressively, he was pushing you to the edge.

"Fuck! Da...Daddy," You groaned, knowing you were only seconds away, "Kiss me, p-please."

Pulling you into his lips as you came, your screams and cries muffled against Chrollo's lips as you drenched his cock and thighs with your cum. You barely registered the feeling of his cock throbbing as he filled your ass with cum. It took several seconds for your orgasm to stop before you were finally able to collapse back onto the bed.

Chrollo was quick to shut the vibrator off as he pulled out, knowing your body had enough. He admired the way his cum began slowly trickling out of your ass while he untied your hands.

"You did so well, darling," Chrollo praised, leaving soft kisses on the inside of your calf, "So so good."

His kisses trailed upwards, his lips softly tickling your thighs as he caressed them. He continued upward with his continued praise and love, making sure each part of you had received some form of physical attention before kissing you passionately.

You were still panting, your heart thrumming in your ears as he brushed your hair away from your face. At least he held true to his word.

With your hands now free, you pulled him in for another kiss, wanting to stay enveloped in his warmth forever.

"So, my little brat," He started, interlacing his fingers with yours, "Was this enough of a cure for your boredom?"

You giggled, giving him a weak smile, "It was, but as I recall, you mentioned what sounded like a more long-term solution to this problem."

"Ah, that," Chrollo sighed, rolling over next to you. You turned on your side the best you could as he gazed up at the ceiling, "I was thinking you could officially become a spider."

Your breath hitched in your throat, "You mean like part of the phantom-troupe?"

"Yes," He replied curtly, "You'd be with me all day every day, same rules apply, but it would give you a chance to use that intelligence of yours."

You grinned, thinking it over, "Sure, why not?"

[tomtenadia]

Thicker than blood - 14

I have been dying to post this chapter since I wrote it. It’s an important one  It explains some things but it’s also a powerful one. I love this chapter very much and I hope you will too.

MASTERLIST

Aelin woke up at the constant banging at her door.

“What the fuck?” With a groan she left the bed and walked to the living room and opened the front door only to find Aedion on the threshold.

And from his expression she knew he was not happy.

“Hi Aeds, bit early isn’t it?”

“It’s eleven.”

She turned annoyed and walked back into the living room while he trailed behind in silence.

“What do you want?”

His hand slammed a newspaper on the coffee table and Aelin was horrified by the front page image. It was her and Rowan. She was caressing his face in a tender gesture and the paparazzi had caught the moment he kissed her.

“There was a fire last night, an attack on vampires and this is what they care about? Ten young vampires died.”

Aedion pointed at the headline The Galathynius’ heir new romance. Family and tradition swept under the rug for a fling. Read all the details here.

Aelin was raging. How dared they? And why reporters were taking photos of her instead of reporting about the accident? That was a fucking mess, especially because her identity as Celaena was now useless. Damn it, damn it.

“Rhoe saw this.”

Aelin sighed. Her father loved to read all the newspaper first thing in the morning. He loved to have an exact idea of what was happening.

“I don’t care.”

“He was not happy.”

Aelin snorted “of course, the mighty Rhoe Galathynius needs to have an opinion on my love life too.”

“A cop?”

She paced furiously “He is a Whitethorn. He is pureblooded, his clan in Doranelle is ancient and powerful too.”

“He is not from Terrasen.”

“Aedion, I. Do. Not. Give. A. Fuck.” She spelled out for him.

“He will not allow you pursue this.”

A loud and mocking scoff left her lips “He is my mate and we are married. Legally. He can’t do anything against the mating bond. Rhoe is not a god.”

Aedion knew. Lys had told him, but he had to pretend as if he had no idea. He was not betraying his fiancee’s confession.

“That was a stupid thing to do.”

“Says the man who is about to marry a commoner.”

“I am not the heir,” he shouted.

“Well, sure as fuck Rhoe acts as if you are.”

Aedion reeled back as if she punched him “is this why you are doing all of this? You are jealous?”

Aelin groaned hard “My father used me as a guinea pig. Your project? While you were in the lab collecting glory I was strapped in a lab under the mansion. All your initial samples? They were from me.” She blurted out “I almost died and he kept going. I used to wake up screaming in the middle of the night and no one ever came.”

She finally had the courage to look at Aedion and his blue eyes were full of pain.

“Why you never told me?” His voice a whisper.

Aelin shrugged “I couldn’t.”

Aedion walked to her and hugged her and she felt tears trickle down his cheek “Aelin, you are like my sister. I would have done anything for you, even face your father.”

He pulled back and sat in shock. “You were never around. Rhoe had said he sent you away to Rifthold to a private school.”

Aelin sat at his side and grabbed his hand “I was in a room. Three years, Aedion,” talking to him felt good “I was not allowed to leave the room. I had books, my laptop and anything I needed but that was my world. To be honest most days I was too sick to do anything anyway,” her head leaned against his shoulder “That’s when I started studying all things related to anatomy and the body. I wanted to know what was happening to me. Why I could feel my body on fire or why I could not drink blood. Rhoe would come and visit and tell me that I was helping vampire society advance.”

“I should have suspected. All the samples always had the same genetic pattern. Always female. I had no idea it was you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I feel so dirty now.”

Aelin turned to him abruptly “No, I might hate synthetic blood but you helped. A lot of vampires can live almost normal life because of you.”

He stood in a powerful move “You were the fucking price for this!” He shouted in desperation.

“It’s in the past.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Aedion, please.”

He hugged her tight “I am sorry.”

“Go back to Lys and let her calm you down, okay?”

He nodded and left and Aelin had a bad feeling about this. Maybe she had gone too far but Aedion needed to know.

She grabbed the newspaper and balled it up angrily, and that’s when Elide arrived back in the living room.

“Sorry, El.”

“Are you okay?”

Aelin sat on the sofa and nested in the woman’s arms “not even remotely.”

*

Being at the morgue was all she needed to chase away the bad day she had. Before heading to work she had gone to Rowan’s and found him still in a funk over the events of the previous night. She had showed him the paper and he had given her a brief smile, and did his best to reassure that everything would be alright. She then had broken down in his arms after she told him what happened with Aedion. In his arms she had felt safe and the pain had seemed to disappear.

Then Lorcan had called him to his office and she had left him with a kiss and went to work too.

She was analysing some samples from her last autopsy when a scent she hadn’t smelled in a while hit her. Fuck.

She left the office and went to the examining room and there he was: Rhoe Galathynius. Her father was tall with broad shoulders. She used to ride on them when she was little. His long hair was tied in a low ponytail and his blue eyes were staring at her.

“Your highness, what bring you here to such a lowly part of town?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my daughter?”

Aelin snorted loudly “sure if it wasn’t that you had not wanted anything to do with me since I decided not to follow in your footsteps.”

“I only want the best for you,” his voice deep.

Aelin went to close the door. Although the morgue was a quiet place she did not want to share the fight that was about to ensue with possible visitors.

She spread her arms “this is what is best for me. I love my job and you better accept it.”

“I do.”

“No, you fucking don’t. You see me as a failure, a stain in the perfect family line. You are ashamed of me.” She stood in front of him and forgot how tall her father was “And you are probably here to reiterate the fact by telling me that I should not meddle with a mere agent.”

Rhoe’s jaw clenched.

“You are a Galathynius.”

She moved closer and searched his eyes “No, I am a Whitethorn now. Rowan and I are married and mates. I took his surname and did you a favour. Now you can officially remove me from the family lineage. The stain is gone.”

“You do not turn your back on family this way,” he roared.

“Says the man who had me prisoner for three years. Who experimented on me. Who ignored my screams and cries for help. You turned your back on me a long time ago,” she was shouting so loud that her chest was now heaving hard. It had felt good to let it all out.

She was expecting her father to lash back at her, instead she was met by a strange reaction. There was hesitation, fear and worry?

Rhoe sighed gathering his resolve and sat on the stool “I guess it’s time to tell you the truth.”

She paused and stared at the man in front of her.

“Queen Maeve is your aunt.”

Aelin gasped in shock. No way she was related to that woman.

“After the great fire we started to set rules so that we could live alongside humans,” a pause “Maeve hated me for that, saying that vampires were not meant to be nice to humans. We were superior beings after all. She also started rejecting my synthetic blood project, claiming that it would make us the human’s puppets.” Rhoe looked into his daughter’s eyes, so identical to those of the woman he loved “So, in an attempt to bring me down and make me abandon my research, she kidnapped you, thinking that I would abandon my research if she had you. She also hated that your mother and I kept you away from her. We never trusted Maeve, she always had dangerous ideas. We wanted to keep you away from her as much as possible.”

Aelin noticed deep pain in her father’s eyes “while you were her prisoner she fed you spiked blood, constantly and who knows what else.”

She realised her hands were shaking in rage.

“It took us two years to get you back. Maeve had vanished and took you with her. The two longest years of our existences,” he looked down almost ashamed “And when we finally got you back…”

Aelin moved a step closer to him at the pain in his voice.

Her father finally met her eyes “You were so broken. Your mother and I were mad with grief.”

Aelin took another step closer to him.

“At the same time the fire had just passed and Orlon, your great uncle, and leader of our clan had begged me to do something to stop the hatred. Give Terrasen a chance, so while we were rebuilding and while I was trying to find a way to help you I also decided to use as it an opportunity to help the shift in society,” he took her hands “It was not my experiments that made you sick. Aedion had no idea. I would give him your samples to try and figure out a cure for you too,” he explained “Yes, we gave you synthetic blood but as a way to feed you and keep you alive, but you were so sick.”

Aelin let out a sob.

“All the pain was because of what Maeve did to you. For some reason your body never accepted it, that’s why it makes you sick.” 

Aelin stared at her father in disbelief. The confession had shaken her. She had no idea. For so long she had thought he was the enemy and now…  now she had no idea how to reconcile and accept the truth.

“I pushed you away to protect you. Maeve is still set on bringing us down and knows that you are our weak spot,” he confessed “If we pretended to disown you we thought it might keep you safe. And it worked so far. It pained us greatly.”

Aelin was crying now “Why you never told me.”

“Your hate for us had to look real.”

“Aelin…” he stepped closer.

She pushed him back “the cell… three years…”

“When you came back to us you were on the verge of slipping. She kept you always on the cusp but never pushed. Only enough to keep you wild and desperate for more. It took me a long time to find a way to help you. Apparently real A+ blood was the only thing you could drink. Even with my connections, though, it was not easy to obtain. You were wild, mad with pain and fear. Even after you got better you were not ready for the real world,” he added quietly “You were going through some horrendous withdrawal symptoms, that’s some of the pain you remember…” a ragged breath left his lungs “You would shout at us to kill you. You were in so much pain. The months and the years passed and I could not help you….”

Aelin remembered the day her father had told her she could leave the cell. She had spent the day in her bedroom. Aedion and her mother the only two who visited.

Her hands fisted in anger. If for a brief second she had thought to even agree with Maeve, now it was gone. She would take the woman down herself.

“I am sorry, Aelin. It might take me my whole existence to apologise, but I will.”

A sob left her mouth “I thought you hated me…” another sob “I spent years thinking that my family did not want anything to do with me.” A ragged breath, now it was her turn for confessions “I am a junkie,” she was now crying hard “and the night after the gala I almost slipped,” she looked up at him and it surprised her when she did not see any trace of disappointment in his eyes “I wanted to rebel, to reject all you ever done,” her father surprised her when his strong arms enveloped her in a hug “Rowan found me but instead of arresting me, he helped me. The night of the attack at a human’s house I tried and stopped them and the only reason I am alive is because I am married to him. He saved me in more ways than one.”

Her father’s arms tightened “I love him, dad…” she heard herself confess.

“Good,” he said quietly.

They stood in silence and Aelin tried to sort out all of her emotions. All of a sudden all of her beliefs had been taken down brutally and had no idea how to react. How to cope with the idea that her father really loved her. Where to start to rebuild their relationship?

“I always followed your career in silence. Reading all the articles where miss Celaena Sardothien ME, helped solve a murder.”

She looked at him in utter surprise.

“When you were recovering you used to write a diary. You struggled to express your feelings in words so you’d write to your mum and me in a diary and called yourself Celaena Sardothien.”

The diary… she had forgotten about it. When she started working at the morgue the name had slipped out of her naturally. She had forgotten the connection.

“Even if we will fix things, I am not leaving this job. I really love it.”

Rhoe tilted his head “maybe help us a a consultant from time to time. You are a great geneticist,” his tone had a hint of pride “Aedion is great as biochemist and genetic engineering. We can leave him play with his favourite field.” Aelin chuckled.

“If we reconcile, Maeve might try something again.”

Her father’s smile turned wicked “Then let’s keep up the ruse. I will release a very harsh interview where I declare you have ashamed me for the last time. I will declare that I do not approve of your relation with agent Whitethorn and and so forth.”

“Is mum okay?”

“She misses you so much, fireheart.”

At the nickname, Aelin started crying once more.

“We will fix this. And once it’s all okay we can try be a family once more and finally meet mr Whitethorn.”

Aelin nodded, and a wet chuckle left her lips “yes, I’d really love to.”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @whimsicallyreading​ @elentiyawhitethorn​ @aelin-bitch-queen​ @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity​ @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red​ @thegreyj​ @sailorsassley​ @leiawritesstories​ @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire​ @sv0430​ @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon​ @rowanaelinn​ @backtobl4ck​ @susumaus98​ @gracie-rosee​ @mybloodrunsblue​ @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah​ @whoever-you-choose-to-love​  @theywillnotsingforme​ @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water​ @goddess-aelin​ @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

[maximons]

Perfect

Summary: Wanda Maximoff and Y/n L/n, two kindred spirits that find themselves drawn to each other. And because of this, they knew their first date wouldn’t be anything less than perfect.

Word Count: 2,462

Genre: College AU, Fluff

Requested?: Yes

A/N: Hope ya’ll like your teeth rotting, cause that’s all this is :)

You first saw Wanda Maximoff in early October.

In hindsight, you couldn’t believe you didn’t notice her sooner. It was in your psychology class on a Friday afternoon. The class was required for your major, and it was also your last class of the day and the last one of the week, so you weren’t the most excited to be there. You leaned back in your chair, pen twirling in your hand, listening to the professor drone on about...something. You weren’t really paying attention.

You assumed she asked a question, because a few stray hands shot up in the air. One was selected, and a voice started speaking.

And, oh wow...you were paying attention now.

The beautiful voice was deeper, raspy. It held your attention, pulling you in even if you didn’t want to be, which you very much did. What intrigued you the most was the slight accent that was laced within it. You couldn’t pinpoint where it was from exactly, but you would guess European. Eastern European maybe.

Hypnotizing.

“Thank you, Miss Maximoff, that was actually very insightful.” You snapped back into reality at the sound of your professors voice. You leaned back into your seat, eyes drifting over to the owner of the voice.

You couldn’t see her face, as you were seated in the back of the lecture hall and she was closer to the front, but your gaze was met with a beautiful head of flowing red hair. You could tell that it wasn’t natural, most likely dyed, but it didn’t make it any less gorgeous. Right then and there, you made it a goal to get closer to this girl. You brought the tip of your pen to your lips, biting on it slightly. A smile grew on your face, still staring at the back of her head.

“Well, hello Miss Maximoff.”

The opportunity to talk to her arose the next week. You walked into class, few minutes earlier than you usually did, eyes scanning the room. You were happy to see the head of red hair that plagued your mind for the last few days already in her seat. This time though, you got to see her face. Your jaw dropped slightly.

She’s beautiful.

You snapped yourself out of it, not wanting to risk getting caught staring. You casually made your way through the room and up a few steps. However, instead of going to your usual seat in the back of the hall, you plopped yourself down into the seat next to hers.

You slid your bag off your shoulder, shoving it under the table in front of you, staring forward. You noticed the redhead turn her gaze towards you, wondering why you were sitting there you were sure. After a few moments, her gaze still lingered on you, so you took a chance and turned you head. You gave her a small smile.

“Hey.” You said quietly, as casual as you could. You didn’t want her to think you were some kind of stalker, sitting next to her just to get close to her.

Well, yeah that’s what you were doing, but you didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

She simply responded with the same smile and greeting before turning her attention back towards the front of the room. Just then, your professor walked in and the lecture started.

After about a half hour of half listening, your ears perked up at the next thing out of her mouth. “Alright, get into pairs and discuss.”

Yes! This was your chance. Normally you hated group work, especially in this class since none of your friends shared it with you, but today you were excited.

You turned your head towards the redhead only to find her looking at you. You gave her a nervous chuckle. “You wanna...” You trailed off, but she caught on to what you were saying on saying and nodded. You smiled. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Y/n.” You straightened yourself up, holding out your hand for her to take.

She chuckled as she took it. “I know. Dr. Logan keeps scolding you for not paying attention.” She teased, accent present as ever. You laughed nervously. 

“That’s me.” She laughed a little more at that, and man you loved the sound. 

“I’m Wanda.”

You smiled. Wanda Maximoff. What a name.

You started discussing the topic at hand, conversation flowing pretty easily between you two. You quickly caught on to how her accent would thicken when saying certain words. You hung onto every word that flowed out of her mouth. She was also incredibly smart and insightful, but not in a condescending or pretentious way. She was perfect.

You were a goner.

The next few weeks you would continue sitting next to her, and finding reasons to talk to her. You became each others go to partners for class activities. You even formed a friendship outside of class, slowly making your way from acquaintances to friends. You introduced her to your friend group, and she did to hers. You hung out everyday, even began to crash at each others places, it was amazing.

The end of the semester quickly approached, and you were packing your bags to go home for winter break. You and Wanda swore to keep in contact and talk as much as you could. Before you officially left campus though, you had to do something in person. You made your way to Wanda’s dorm and knocked. She answered, and before she could get a word out, you asked the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue for months.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

You knew it was a last minute request, but you didn’t want to do it over the phone. And when you got to see her smile grow as she nodded excitingly, you knew it was the right choice.

You never got around to setting a day because her twin brother, Pietro, was essentially rushing her out of the building, ready to go home. She called over her shoulder that she would call you. And she did as soon she could.

You both decided that you would wait until spring semester and go to the nice restaurant that was in town, it was a popular date sight for those in your school. It sounded like a plan.

But two weeks later, you decided you had a better one.

Wanda was a free spirit, and you were pretty unconventional yourself. Dinner dates were more for couples that didn’t know each other well and wanted to have their first meeting in a public setting. That wasn’t you two. You were great friends already, and you didn’t want to be stuck in the confines of the etiquette of the restaurant. You wanted to be 100% yourself, and you wanted her to be as well.

Wanda was very confused when you asked her where she lived and if she was free tomorrow night. She knew you were up to something, but she didn’t know what. When she asked, you simply said “Trust me.” And she did.

Wanda only lived an hour and a half from you. Perfect. Easy drive.

The next night, you grabbed the keys to the pickup truck that you shared with your dad. You packed what you think you two would need, and then you took off.

An hour and a half later, you arrived at Wanda’s place. Whoa. She practically lived in a mansion. Someone neglected to tell you that she was loaded. You laughed to yourself, thinking of the ways you could tease her about it later. You parked your truck a little ways down the street, so it wasn’t immediately noticeable to the residents inside. You got out and made your way over to the back of the truck. You leaned against it, and pulled out your phone.

“Hey, Y/n!” Wanda answered excitingly, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Hello there, Miss. Maximoff. What are you up to this fine evening?” You said in a terribly butchered British accent, but Wanda found it amusing and laughed.

“Nothing much, I just got out of the shower.”

“Ah, perfect. Say, instead of getting ready for bed...you might wanna put something warm on.”

Wanda furrowed her brow in confusion, but smiled at your antics. You were up to something. “What did you do?”

“Me? Oh nothing, why would you think that?” You said in mock hurt, and she laughed again. “But I wouldn’t mind it if you made your way outside...” You trailed off, and before Wanda could ask why. You hung up.

A few minutes later, Wanda walked outside. She was dressed casually, jeans and a red sweater. She had her white coat pulled tightly around her, and she tugged on her black scarf as she walked down the walkway.

Absolutely beautiful.

Confusion was plastered on her face, she looked around for a moment, not understanding why she wanted you to go outside. She pulled out her phone, ready to call you again, when she heard a loud honk. She made her way down the street towards the sound, and she gasped slightly when she saw you.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed and started running towards you. She jumped up into your arms, legs wrapping around you in a tight hug. Both of you sported wide smiles as you laughed. After a few moments, Wanda hopped off of you, smile still wide as she looked at you. “What are you doing here!?”

“Well, I know we talked about how we’d go down to the restaurant, which we can still do if you want to, but I figured...it wouldn’t be us if we didn’t go for a little adventure for our first date.”

Wanda smiled. She was also thinking something similar, but she wanted this to work with you, so she thought she’d play it safe for the first date. She should’ve known better though, because you were you. You didn’t care for societal norms, you played everything by ear, and you faced life head on and in the moment. You were perfect to her. “And where would we be going, Miss L/n?”

“Well, that’s the best part.” You started as you opened the passenger door for Wanda. “I have no idea. We’ll let the road guide us.” You made a gesture to the road, causing the redhead to laugh. 

“Alright, Y/n. Show me the way.” You smiled as you helped her in the truck. You closed the door, and made your way over to the drivers seat, taking off a moment later.

About two hours later, you were still on the road. You didn’t know exactly where you were, and you didn’t care. All you cared about was the beautiful girl beside you. You’ve been engaged in various conversations throughout the night, some playful, some serious, but all of them were amazing. You could talk to this woman for the rest of your life and you would never get bored.

You were making your way through a tunnel, and since it was nearing 1am by this point, it was only you. Wanda shot you a mischievous look ad she hit the button to the truck’s sunroof. You chuckled. “Whatcha doing there?”

“You ever wonder what it would feel like to fly?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Well this...” Wanda clicked her seatbelt off and carefully stood on the seat. “Is the closest you can get to it.” She stood up, sticking the upper half of her body out of the roof. 

You panicked for a moment. You were driving pretty fast, and were sure this was unsafe. You didn’t want anything to happen to her. You were about to say something, but then Wanda let out a boisterous laugh. “This is amazing!” She let out a scream of excitement. “Y/n, turn the music up!”

You couldn’t help but smile. This woman was truly amazing. You couldn’t bring yourself to worry about the safety measures when she was enjoying herself like this. You obliged and turned the radio up, and Wanda began singing along to the words and, oh wow...

If you thought her speaking voice was captivating...her singing voice was just something else entirely. You were smiling as wide as you possibly could, enjoying this moment. 

It was perfect.

Soon enough though, the end of the tunnel was approaching. There was a metal bar that hung low, so you decided now was the time to pull her back. You tugged on her pant leg. “Okay, Supergirl, get back in here before your head gets torn off.” You laughed, and Wanda soon dropped back in her seat, laughing with you.

You wanted to get a good look at the girl sitting next to you, have a conversation where you could pay attention to her entirely and not having to split your focus. “You up for one more stop?” You asked. Wanda nodded excitingly. 

“Of course.”

You drove for about five more minutes when you spotted a small vacant park. You pulled over to the side of the road and park, and got out. You opened the door open for Wanda again, and helped her get out. You then made your way to the backseat and pulled out the blankets you decided to bring, before walking with Wanda to the center of the park.

You laid down one of the blankets on the grass, and when you both laid down on it, you pulled the other one on top of you.

You spent the next half hour or so in deep conversation, staring at the stars. You didn’t want this night to end, but when you saw Wanda let out a yawn, you figured it would have to soon.

“Alright, we should start heading back. We gotta get you to bed, Miss Bezos.” Wanda smacked your arm at you poking fun at her financial status. “Actually, I’m sure you have a private jet that can pick us up. where’s Alfred at?” You both laughed harder as Wanda hit you again. You two began wrestling, play fighting with each other, when eventually you let Wanda win. She rolled on top of you, pinning you down. 

You continued laughing for a few more moments, before it died down. You were both then very aware of your position and blushed. You looked into each others eyes for a moment, and then Wanda began speaking.

“Tonight was just...so perfect. Thank you, Y/n.” She said softly, and you smiled.

“Of course.” 

You stayed there, staring into each others eyes for another moment, before Wanda started leaning down. You picked your head up, meeting her in the middle, and your lips locked in a soft kiss. You both smiled as you deepened the kiss.

This was for sure the perfect end to a perfect evening.

[melancholymetropolis]

No Idea

Pairings: Athlete!Kirishima x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: College AU The reader is Kirishima's History tutor and they kinda have a crush on each other. It takes an afterparty filled with horny guys and a skin-tight dress for Kiri to realize he wants them all to himself.

Warning: Do I even need to say it at this point? It's smut, obvi. Kinda unedited. The reader and her best friend are black. Kirishima is a football player; he's VERY possessive over the reader. Her best friend is a little gay for her as well.

Author's Note: This was a commission!!!!! The client gave me this insane prompt and I had no choice but to go over the word limit. If you want to commission me, click here! Your support really means the world to me. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5,300

“You’re back early!” My roommate, Liza, yelled from the other side of the apartment-style dorm room. The sound of her chair scraping the floor followed shortly after, along with the light footsteps of her sock-clad feet. “I left you a plate in the microwave, in case you were hungry. I could heat it up, if you’re too tired— why the long face? What happened?”

“He didn’t show up,” I sighed as I dropped my books on the table and sank into a chair.

“How can he not show up?” Liza fumed crossing her arms. “His GPA is already in the gutter from all the other quizzes he seemed to fail before the semester even started.”

“I know,” I replied in a bored tone.

“He’s on academic probation—”

“I know.”

“One more hiccup and he’ll be off the football team—”

“I know.”

“Not to mention how you practically have to bend backward to make time for him—”

“Mhm.”

“Just for him to flake on you for the third time! I just—”

“Liza, please,” I rose from my seat and stood in front of her. “You don’t have to be angry with me. It’s truly okay.”

“No! It’s not okay!” She stormed to the microwave and pulled the cover plate from the inside. She removed the foil and pushed it back into the device, before pressing the start button four times. She turns to face me and forces an angered sigh from her lips. “He likes you, you know that right?”

I lifted my books from the table and walked to our shared room. I took in the words that she threw at me with each step and digested them. Kirishima liked me. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have an inkling that he may be, sorta found me attractive. Although I wore glasses, I wasn’t blind. At least with them on. I saw the way he looked at me when we were less than a foot apart. Shoulders practically touching as we slouched over the Advanced American History textbook. Our hands brushing against each other’s ever so often. The sparkle in his eye when he looked at me longer than a few seconds; the blush on his cheeks when I smiled at his corny jokes. His persistent tendency to walk me home, although most times, we finished our study sessions just before dusk. The way he stayed glued to my side during the journey to my dorm. How he’d carry my books on the way. I noticed it all and practically welcomed it, since I too found him attractive. The spiky redhead just had a way of making everyone swoon over him. Kirishima was genuinely a nice person, not because there was something in it for him, but just because.

The beeping from the microwave brought me back to reality. I placed the textbooks on the designated space on the shelf and fixed my scattered stationery from that morning. Liza shuffled in with a bowl of baked fetta pasta, and a piece of toasted garlic bread a few minutes later. She placed the bowl on the desk, with a fork, a can of sparkling soda, and my favorite metal straw.

“What did I do to deserve you?” I said with a tired smile.

“Helped me pass ‘Text and Ideas’ with an A-,” Liza smiled back and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Oh right,” I took a seat at the desk and forked the starchy dish in my mouth. “This is heaven-sent.”

“I knew you’d like it!” She deemed walking to her own desk. “I got the recipe from tiktok.”

I hum in response and continued to stuff my face. After a few minutes of silence, I grab the phone from my back pocket and unlocked it. A new message from Kirishima was the newest notification from many and it said:

Hey, I am sorry for not showing up. My teammate got shitfaced and decided to take a dive into the fountain. It took three of us to pull him out. It sucks because I was really looking forward to seeing you.

Since my mouth had already filled to its brink with pasta, I opted for a tight-lipped smirk instead of a toothy one. Kirishima all but admitted that he missed me. My hunch was right: the feelings are mutual. I swallowed the pasta and swiveled around in my chair to look at Liza. Her eyes were glued to her phone, but she snapped her head up to laugh at the content on her screen. Once she was down laughing, I picked my phone up and pointed it in her general direction. Reaching forward, she grasped the device and quickly read the message.

“Don’t respond to him,” she said, handing the phone back to me.

“Why? I thought you were shipping us together?” I asked whilst forking more pasta in my mouth.

“That’s why I’m telling you what I am telling you!” Liza rose to her feet and in a split second, she stood in front of me with a sickening smile.

“I am afraid to ask,” I said with a sigh.

“You don’t have to; I’m gonna tell you anyway,” she squats between my legs and widens her smile. “That boy is already wrapped around your finger, all you need to do is pull away. Just a tiny bit and he’ll come running.”

“Liza. . .”

“Hear me out!” She rose to her feet again and walked to the closet. “Remember when I went thrift shopping last week and I picked up that cute bodycon dress?”

“Yeah. . . ?”

“Well, I washed it and realized that it didn’t have the BODY to fill it out properly.” She pulls the dress from the closet and turns back to me. “And since the Homecoming Afterparty is at the Quarterback's house tomorrow night, I thought it would be the perfect time for you to wear it.”

I eye the dress, taking in its extremely short length and strappy detailing on the front. One wrong move and my breasts would spill right out of it. But, one right move would have them fall onto Kiri’s lap. I tried my best to list the pros and cons of the situation. Pondering what I could get out of the ordeal going to the lion’s den dressed as a gazelle. Yet, all I could imagine was me twerking on someone’s son and taking him home afterward.

💘🖤💘🖤

The dress fit like a glove: perfectly tight, almost like a second skin, but very breathable. I paired it with some hoop earrings, a few bangles on each wrist, and 3-inch kitten heels. My goal was to dress to impress, not nurse my aching arches by the end of the night. The entire ride over to the nicer part of town was nerve-wracking, for one, the Uber driver wouldn’t stop staring at my cleavage from the driver’s mirror. And, secondly, Liza practically had phone sex with her boyfriend, who was going to meet us at the party. I stared down at my phone the whole time, rereading Kiri’s message and the ones he sent afterward. It was true, he was wrapped around my finger. He didn’t double text; Kirishima sent five messages in a row.

Hey, are you free tomorrow? I wanted to talk about yesterday.

I’ll buy you that weird thing you like from Starbucks.

The drink you said that tastes like the moon.`

And I’ll get you those cake pop things.

My heart couldn’t help but flutter; I didn’t know he was paying that much attention to me. I only mentioned that Starbucks drink once in his presence, quite a while ago. It had to be a little over a month ago, yet he still remembered.

The car stopped and Liza popped right out. Her 34 inch Brazilian, straight swaying behind her as she closes the door. Still chatting with her boyfriend, she motions me out of the car with an eager smile. Reluctantly, I detach myself from the cool leather and tug on my dress as I closed the door behind me. I looked up toward the mansion before me, white paint and overwhelming size almost frightened me. But, when I saw a familiar, spiky-haired, redhead, all my potential fear left my body and warmth replaced it.

Kirishima’s back was to me; he was having an intense conversation with his best friend, Bakugo, one of the team’s Linebackers. The blond was so close to popping a fuse but Kiri was struggling to keep from laughing directly in his face. I approach the porch, slow and sensual, my eyes glued to him the entire walk over. Kirishima briefly turns around to address a comer of the group, Sero, an offensive player, when his eyes come up the steps. The humorous expression on his face drops and is replaced with awe. The other two boys look in the direction of his eyesight and replicate his reaction.

“Hi—” I lifted my hand to wave, but it never made it past my abdomen. Liza appeared right in front of me and captured my wrist.

“Girl, it’s our song! Hurry up!” She said as she proceeded to drag me into the house.

“Bye—! Wait, damn!”

Liza pulled me to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room of the home. She starts to bop side to side, swaying her hips in place. It takes me a few seconds to register that “34+35” was blasting the speakers. Liza twirls around me in a fit of giggles and continues to bop along to the music.

“I thought you liked “positions” better than this track?” I questioned as I matched her rhythm.

“I do! I just had to get you out of there,” Liza answered as she swayed her head back and forth. Which made her hair move in an angelic wave behind her bandeau top and pencil skirt. “Those three guys looked like they wanted to run a train on you.”

“ELIZABETH!!!!” I screamed with a shocked smile.

“What?! I’m not lying!” She gives me a bashful smirk. “You look so good, mamas! Shit, you're making me rethink my relationship with Shinso.”

“Oh my god!” I laughed. “I can’t take your ass anywhere, for real!”

The song began to fade out and bleed into “Pussy Talk” with the infamous City Girls. Liza’s soft bops began to move into full booty bouncing. Soon her hands are on her knees and she’s throwing her ass back on my lap. I press my hand flat on her back and lift my other hand in the air. She whines her waist and looks back at me as her inner hot girl is threatening to make an appearance. Shortly after the first verse, Liza straightens her back and dances around me as I bop to the side, bouncing my ass to the music. A smile comes to my lips as my favorite part plays on full blast.

“Pussy talented, it do cartwheels,” Liza and I screamed in unison. “And he pay ‘cause he like how that part feel.”

“Pussy give speeches, heartfelt,” I continued, popping my back against my friend.

“Yuh,” Liza ad-libbed.

“Said the pussy really talk like it Garfield,” I rapped as I felt Liza’s hands glide up my sides.

“It do!”

We danced around each other for the rest of the song and pulled away from the floor, desperately needing to hydrate. We practically stumbled toward the makeshift bar across the living room. We reached into the cooler and pulled out two bottles of water. We chugged the water and tossed the empty bottles in the trash.

“Only water, ladies?” Mineta asked as we turned back towards the dance floor. “You don’t want something a little. . . stronger?”

“Get lost, grape juice,” a familiar voice suddenly came out of nowhere.

Just a few feet behind the purple blob stood Kirishima and Shinso. If looks could kill, Mineta’s body parts would be staining the marble floors and messing up my fresh pedicure. The poor excuse for a human scurried away as both football players approached us. Shinso instantly wrapped his arms around Liza and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Having fun, baby girl?” His low voice sounded sensual against the harsh music.

A seductive smile falls on Liza’s face. “I would’ve had even more fun if you actually danced with me for once.”

“You know I don’t like—”

“Too bad!” She pulled Shinso to the dance floor.

Leaving me alone with Kirishima. I turned to look at him and offered him an awkward smile. “How was your diving lesson?”

The redhead returned my smile and scratched the back of his neck. “So you did read me my texts? I was starting to think you were mad at me or something.”

“Not at you, per se,” I replied thinking of my words carefully.

“Then who were you mad at?” Kirishima closes the distance between us and puts a finger under my chin. He redirects my attention to his face and gives me a smirk.

He looked good and he knew it. He wore a simple white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. But, he paired it with a burgundy leather jacket and a Cuban link silver chain. He had a gold wristwatch on his left wrist and a simple chain on his right. And his cologne. . . it danced in my nostrils. It wasn’t too heavy or suffocating; you simply had to be close to him to smell it.

Kirishima was playing a dangerous game and he knew it.

“At the people that take you away from me,” I looked at him with doughy eyes and slightly parted lips. A look of innocence was written all over my face.

Kirishima clenched his jaw and briefly looked away. A blush starting to form on his cheeks. “Well, I—. Shit.” He remained silent for a few seconds, gathering his words, before saying “You don’t know what you do to me, Y/N.”

“And what’s that?” I asked while removing his hand from my chin and bringing it to my lips. I gently kiss his bruised knuckles, never breaking eye contact while doing so.

The redhead opens his mouth to speak but is rudely interrupted by a yelling Liza.

“GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE, BITCH!!!! THEY’RE PLAYING OUR SONG!!!!”

While I was talking to Kirishima, the music seemed to slip away. I had no idea what was playing until I refocused my attention on the blaring speakers. “Come on, Kiri. Duty calls.” I drag him to the dance floor.

Liza unlatches herself from Shinso and twirls around me. “I’m not shy, I’ll say it. I’ve been picturing you naked.”

“I’m a little faded, you look like a fucking painting,” I continue the verse as I glide my hands along my body. “Big doe eyes, amazin’. She’s everything I’ve been prayin’.”

Liza walked up to Kirishima and glided her hand along his chest. “Me and your girlfriend playin’ dress-up house.” She pressed two fingers against her lips and poked her tongue out. “I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch.”

Kirishima blushes a bright red, nearly matching his hair. It takes everything in me not to laugh.

I look back at Shinso and he’s just shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“Go get your girlfriend, before she devours your teammate,” I said giggly quietly.

“Go get your best friend before she kills your loverboy,” Shinso counters looking down at me with a smirk.

“He looks like he's gonna pass out,” I replied, struggling to contain my laughter.

“If you think that’s bad, you should’ve seen him when you were twerking on Liza,” Shinso jested while leaning closer to me. “Eijiro looked like he came in his pants.”

I smacked his arm and leaned against his chest. “You’re lying!” Laughter overcame my body; tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes.

“I swear to god,” Shinso struggled to say while laughing. “Then, when Bakugo called you hot. . . Eiji almost went feral.”

“Stop. . . I can’t breathe. . .”

“You better fuck him like the world is ending. . . I can’t keep stopping him from. . . fighting the entire team over you.”

“You and Liza. . . perfect for each other. . . I cannot. . .”

The song swiftly faded out into another. Yet another one of Liza’s favorites: Buss it by Erika Banks.

The young woman peeled herself from Kirishima and began walking to her boyfriend. I distanced myself from Shinso and walked over to Kirishima. I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. “Are you okay, Kiri?” A smile painted my lips.

His eyes darkened and he gripped my waist firmly. “I want you. . . so bad right now.”

“How about we get outta here?” I suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Go say goodbye to your friends, I’ll bring the car around,” Kirishima asserted with a smirk. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before detaching himself from me and walking out of the living room.

I turned back to Shinso and Liza, who were seconds away from eating each other’s face off. I tapped the loving couple and cleared my throat. They both pulled away and stared at me.

"We're leaving," I said simply.

"About fucking time," Liza replied with a smirk. "You better come back to the dorm in a goddamn wheelchair, if not, I'm sending you back to his place."

"You have like zero chill," I shook my head and waved goodbye.

"Don't forget to use protection!" Liza yelled after me.

A chuckle fell from my lips as I walked out of the front door. I found Kirishima exactly where he said he'd be: parked in front of the massive house, within a bright red mustang. He exited the car and walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle. He opened my door and helped me get in. Kirishima made sure I was buckled in and comfortable before entering the car on the driver's side.

He starts the vehicle, and places his right hand on my thigh. He gives the plush fresh a securing squeeze before pulling away from the curb.

The drive was short and sweet, averaging around ten minutes. We parked across the street from the boys’ dorm hall and exited the car. Kirishima opened my door and helped me out of the vehicle.

"If you don't want this, I could always take you home," he said as he shut my door. "I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"I want this more than you know," I responded while gripping his hand. "But, if I ever feel uncomfortable, I'll let you know."

Kirishima nods and smiles. "Good girl. Now let's go."

The moment his dorm's door closed, his body was pressed against mine and his hand glued to my waist. His lips massaged against my own, slow and sensually. I moaned against the kiss, and pressed my body closer to his. He felt so good attached to me, almost like he was meant to be against me. His searing hot kisses inched down my jawline and to my neck. Kirishima's hands slid up my abdomen and to my shoulders, he slipped the straps from the curved surface and pulled away just enough just to allow me to remove them from my arms.

He kissed the other side of my neck, leaving little bites here and there. The redhead ran his tongue against my collarbones and I swear a flood rushed to my nether regions. Kirishima kissed down and left my breast, gathering the anticipation that swirled through my body before latching his lips on my nipple. A throat my moan fell from my mouth and my legs jolted slightly. My mind continued to fog as he nestled against the sensitive bud, while happily moaning against the soft flesh. I pressed one hand against the front door and another in his hair.

Pants left my lips as I began to squirm underneath his body. "Take me to the bed, please," I begged while looking down at him. " I want you so bad, Kiri."

The redhead detached himself from my breast and gripped my chin. "Say my name, baby." His red eyes stared deeply into my brown ones, taking in every little detail of my expression.

"Eijiro," I said breathlessly.

"Say it again," he broke eye contact and gripped my waist.

"Eijiro."

His hands slipped down the curve of my rear and to my legs. He lifted limbs from off the ground and wrapped them around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his leg immediately afterward and giggled.

He walked further into the dorm room and passed through another dorm. He sits me on the extra-long twin bed and falls to his knees between my legs. Kiri unlatches my strappy heel and tosses it to the other side of the room. While he does the other foot, a smirk presses against his lips.

"What?" I asked while looking down at him.

"I'm just thinking about how this started," he said while smiling. "How my shifty grades gave me the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Stop it," I counter with a blush on my face. "You're exaggerating."

"Baby, I mean it with every fiber of my being when I say this," he leaned forward. "I've wanted to be with you for a while now, I just didn't know if you'd like me back. And I was kinda ashamed of taking so long to say something because you're so sweet and you really helped me a lot with Advanced American History. I didn’t want you to think I was using you for information or anything."

I leaned forward and pressed my lips on his forehead. "I liked you even before I officially knew you. When you beat the shit out of that guy that tried to home a drunk girl."

"I don't even remember that."

"It was during a Halloween party last year, that was when I first saw you. And I thought, "wow I wish more men like him existed in this world"."

"I can't believe you remember that."

"How could I not? You basically saved that girl's life and dignity. You were the only human being in a room full of predators. That's when I knew I wanted you for myself."

Kirishima laughs. "Greedy, little Y/N."

I shrugged.

"Come here."

I gathered the football player into my arms and pressed my lips onto his. Taking in every ounce of his kiss. Sucking on his bottom lip. Slipping my tongue within his mouth. Tugging against his collar to close the distance between us. After a few seconds, Kirishima kissed down my body again until he was face to face with my heated center. He scrunched the dress around my waist and pulled my panties off my legs before spreading my legs wide open.

"Oh… look how wet you are, baby," he kissed the soft skin in between my thighs. "All for me."

Kirishima dipped his head between my legs and took a long swipe at the sticky mess between them. A shiver ran along my spine, Arching my back, I released a soft whimper and spread my legs further apart. He dipped his tongue into the smooth canal repeatedly, bobbing his head as he completed the action. His calloused hands slid up my legs once more and hooked around my thighs. Kiri moved his hot mouth from the very bottom of my womanhood to the top, leaving a long string of spit along the way. The redhead sucked on the protruding bud tenderly; with hollowed cheeks, he looked up from my heat and stared into my eyes. I bit my lip and moaned loudly.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I arched my back against his mouth and bucked my hips slowly.

Kirishima released my bud with a silent “pop” and began lapping the rosy, pink button in great haste. My legs jolted at the new source of stimulation and a throaty whine fell from my lips. Squeezing my eyes shut, I squirmed underneath his mouth, desperately wanting to add more friction. Kiri noticed my slutty movements and began to move his tongue even faster.

“Ah. . . just like that, don’t stop,” my fingers gathered my bosoms and gave them a firm squeeze. The walls of my slick cave began to clench and release themselves at a faster pace. Tingles rose up my body, swirling against my lower abdomen, almost numbing my lower half entirely. Then, a searing sensation ripped through me, causing my hips to raise from the bed and my knees to shake. A low scream left my mouth as I felt the throbbing of my bud increase tremendously.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” My hips fell on the bed again and my legs shook violently. Kirishima steadied them as much as he could before a whole another wave hit my body and my entire being went still.

“Ah! Eijiro!” I screamed as the pleasure shot through my body for the last time. Pants left my throat and short spurts, just as sweat dripped from my forehead. I looked down at Kirishima, who had just pulled away from my spasming cunny. He had a look of astonishment on his face, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked down at my wrecked body, taking in the shaking limbs, the thin layer of sweat upon it, and the scrunched-up dress at the waist.

“You sounded so hot screaming my name,” he finally said after a few seconds of silence. “No one has ever made it sound so good as you.”

“Well, grab a condom and I’ll scream your name for the rest of the night,” I replied with a smirk. “If you can last that long.”

“Oh, baby,” Kiri’s smile widened. “You have no idea.”

He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a box of condoms from the top drawer. He ripped one off the sleeve and walked back over to me. I pulled the scrunched-up dress over my head and tossed it to the side. I looked over at Kiri and he’d already stripped himself of his T-shirt. He was currently unbuckling his belt with the condom packet in his mouth. His massive bulge immediately caught my eye and I moaned in anticipation. Kirishima rips the packet open with his teeth and rolls latex down his throbbing shaft. My walls clench at the delicious sight and I could feel my nipple begin to stiffen

“If you’re still tired, we can wait a little—” Kirishima begins to say before I cut him off.

“Eijiro, stop being nice and fuck me like a slut.”

His lips were on mine within the next heartbeat. His hands roamed every crevice of my body, taking in the soft tissue and stretchmarks lovingly. His throbbing member slowly slid into me with little to no friction. He made sure to thumb my clitoris while inserting himself, just so he wouldn’t hurt me. And I swear, I was seconds away from asking him to marry me. He gently moved his hips backward, and then pushed forward again. Highlighting his first stroke. He looked at the crimson hue on my face and leaned down to kiss me.

“You are so pretty, princess,” Kiri groaned softly, as he moved his hips at a gentle pace. “So, so pretty.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again. Our tongues danced together as his member tenderly kissed my sensitive walls with each thrust. Kirishima moaned against my lips, as he took in every part of that union. He hiked up one of my legs and hooked it around his waist while he cradled the back of my neck with the other. He looked into my eyes as he increased the pressure of his strokes and their depth. My mouth hung open, and drool poured from the side of it as he kept up the sickening pace. My eyes began to roll back as throat moans rose from the depth of my body.

“Oh God. . .” I slurred as the pleasure increased within my body.

“Aww look at my pretty baby,” Kiri grunted as he rested his hand on my neck. He pressed his thumb between my lips.

I sucked on the digit and looked into his eyes. He moved his hips faster and my lips separated from around the finger. Pants fell from my lips as I felt his member sensually assault my cervix. After a few minutes, Kirishima suddenly pauses and hikes one of my legs up to his shoulders. He readjusts his body, leaving his hand on my neck and placing his hand on my clit. Kiri began to rock his hips in a powerful, but steady motion. He rubs the throbbing bud in a gentle motion, slowly gathering every ounce of pleasure within my body. The pace of my breathing increased rapidly, as the pool in my stomach began to inflate. Whimpers fell from my lips as I gripped the sheets underneath me.

“I’m so close. . .” I whispered through tight lips. “Please don’t stop. . .”

“You’re squeezing me so deliciously tight, baby,” Kirishima grunts as a droplet of sweat drops from his brow. “Milking my cock for everything it’s worth. What a greedy little cunny you have.”

“Eijiro. . . I wanna cum so bad,” I whimpered through pants. “Please let me cum, baby.”

Kirishima curses under his breath and releases his hand from my throbbing bud. He places both hands onto my neck, thumbs pressing against my jaw. He eases his body forward and keeps his sickening pace. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

I sucked in a breath and wrapped my hands around his forearms. I furrow my brows and pant with my mouth open. “You make me feel so good, Eiji. So fucking good!”

“You’re mine, you hear me?” He drops his hands from my neck and presses his forehead to mine. “You don’t get to fuck anyone else. . . . .You don’t get to be with anyone else. . . .My name will be the only name you moan for the rest of your life, do you understand?”

I nod. “I understand.”

“You’re mine and no one else's.”

He pulls me into a searing hot kiss. Drinking in all the love and energy throughout my body. I hook my arms around his neck and moan against his lips. Suddenly, I felt an intense rush of adrenaline pass through my body and everything seemed to go silent. A low ringing noise sounded in my ear as my mouth fell open. I dug my arms into his back and clung to his body. Every fiber of my being tensed and my mind went completely blank for several seconds. Then, slowly, my body released itself and collapsed onto the bed. I opened my eyes lazily to see Kirishima’s eyes tightly closed and his hips slightly shaking. Once he finished his ride, his body relaxed and he lowered my leg from his shoulder. He pulled me into an embrace and pressed another kiss onto my lips.

I pulled away from the kiss and looked into his crimson eyes. “Were you serious about calling me yours?”

“Ugh. . . yes?” He replied hesitantly. Then, he added “If that’s okay with you! I don’t wanna force you—”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I cut him off with a smirk.

“Oh, I was worried for a second.”

“The only thing you should be worried about is your Advanced American History grade.”

“Oh, right. . .”

“You miss another one of my sessions, I’ll ignore you again.”

“Please don’t! I will be present at every session.”

“Good. And you have to be Starbucks.”

“The drink that tastes like the moon?”

“Matcha latte with 2 pumps of chai. Yup.”

“And two chocolate cake pops.”

“Mhm. You know me so well.”

[ellana-ravenwood]

“Mom got lost again” - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Little snippets about how “Batmom” (reader) will never find her way in the Mansion. But it’s fine, really, because she can always count on her husband and children to “save” her.  //DRABBLE

So. I was watching one of those “Architect’s digest” video on YouTube where they visit houses that are millions and millions of dollars worth, and besides the fact that I was thinking “wow look at all those beautiful things I’ll never be able to afford”, I couldn’t shake another thought off…and that was that I would totally get lost in many of those houses. Like, the way some are designed, they’re literally Dedalus’ labyrinth my dudes. So anyway, here’s not-really-a-fic-nor-a-drabble for you, a sort of snippet kind of thing, about this. Hope you’ll like it : 

My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Before the kids

“Hey Alfred, where’s (Y/N) ?”

He asks, one early evening as he just got home from work and knows you were going to meet up with him at his place.

“Oh Lady (Y/L/N) wanted to go see the library, so I took her there.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce arrives in the library, but you’re nowhere to be found. Wondering where you went he calls you but it seems like your cell don’t have any battery anymore. He starts to walk around the West Wing, looking in every room and…Finally, he finds you.

You’re sitting down against a wall in the corridor, looking discouraged, staring at your dead phone. You spot him and jump to your feet, looking very relieved. You then rush in Bruce’s arms, he catches you in extremis and you exclaims :

“Oh my god ! Bruce ! I love you !”

Insert a lot of kisses on his cheeks a really huge hug, as if you haven’t seen him in ages. But I mean, getting lost any place is sort of distressing, and you looooove that man. So much.

A little confuse, although always happy to have your affection, he asks : 

“What…is going on ?”

“I got lost…”

“You got lost ?”

"You have a very big house.”

Highly amused, Bruce responds : “I do.”

“So I got lost.”

“Ah. And what were you doing sitting there ?”

“Well…My parents always taught me to stay where I was, if I ever got lost somewhere, so when they’d came to look for me we’d be sure to see each others instead of passing right next to each others a thousand times…”

Bruce can’t help but burst out in laughter. Even more so that you genuinely looks like a kid that got separated from her parents. And oh, oh you love his laughter. 

It’s always a feat, when you can hear it. Especially when it comes from the heart like right now, when he genuinely laughs this deep beautiful laugh, because he’s happy. Because you make him happy. 

He’s not laughing at you, he just laughs because...You’re too much sometimes. 

And exactly what he needs. Too much is good, for a man like him.

He takes your hand and shows you around one more time. 

But he can see that even so, you can’t seem to remember the layout of the house, and you getting lost will happen again for sure. 

And he’s right. He showed you around his manor so many times, yet it seems you just can’t remember certain places. Like you memorized the places you go the most, kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, access to the Batcave...and most of the time you find your way around easily (albeit sometimes still a little lost). 

But there’s entire areas of the house you try not to venture in or...it ends with Bruce coming to your rescue. Or Alfred. But he usually leaves Bruce to do it, as the man just...loves the way you two love each others. 

It’s always rather cute. And it warms the butler’s heart. 

Never in his wildest dream would he ever have thought that his Master Bruce would find someone like you. Someone accepting and understanding, and loving him unconditionally. And someone that Bruce loved fully in return, and whom he cherished above all. 

Yes. Alfred often let Bruce go on the hunt for you across the Manor, simply because he shipped you both since the very first time he saw you together, and he thoroughly enjoyed when his Master Bruce was acting like a lovesick puppy around you. When he was acting like a “normal” man, just hopelessly in love with his wife. 

And it was so pure, and beautiful.

So what if sometimes you’d wait a little long, lost in those endless corridors ? Alfred knew that Bruce would find you. Always. And that when he did, as usual, you would make Bruce’s heart melt, and he’d feel happy just by seeing you and...honestly it was all wort it. 

Bruce sometimes suspect you do it on purpose. That you get lost just so he can find you. And honestly ? He really doesn’t mind... 

Saved by the little bird

"Over a year of living here, I swear I still can’t...where...wait, didn’t I just pass this damn yet-again-another-living room ?! Aaaah what the fuck why is everything looking the same. Fucking shit. What a shitastrophy. Fucking cockburger son of a bitchtits little f-”

“Um...Are you ok, mom ?”

Oh sssshhhh...Alfred wouldn’t be happy with you for swearing around your young son. Dick was only eight, after all. 

He had started to call you “mom” since very recently, and it always made your heart skip a beat. Made you feel utterly happy. 

As the boy came in behind you from the corridor, you were about to kick a potted plant out of frustration (another thing that Alfred wouldn’t be very happy about). You turn around, slowly get your foot back on the floor, and say : 

“Um. I got um...Lost...” 

“Lost ?” 

“Yes...I just...can’t get used to the size of this house. I wanted to get something that Alfred said was in the East wing, which is somewhere I never really go. And um...”

“You got lost.”

“Yes. Don’t make fun of me ok, your dad is already enough.” 

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you !” 

Your son says, a little virulently, as if offended you’d ever think such a thing ! You smile at him, because how sweet could this kid get really ? 

“Alright little buddy, sorry I ever made such an assumption. So, if you’re not gonna mock me...maybe you can save me then ?”

“Save you ?” 

“Well, I’m lost. And you don’t seem lost.” 

“That’s because I’m not, I always found my way out of the labyrinths in fun fairs very easily !” 

He tells you, smiling widely, excited at the prospect of helping you. 

“Where do you need to go ?” 

“Let’s try to get to the kitchen.” 

“I know the way ! Come on !” 

He takes your hand in his little one, and drags you behind him, leading you across corridors and rooms up until...

“Here !” 

He tells you, smiling widely. And it’s so cute, because he’s missing a few teeth and his smile is just so pure...You just want to squish his little face and hug him to death. 

“Ah my savior ! What can I ever repay you with ?” 

You ask, taking an overdramatic tone of voice, knowing little Dickie always loved when you two played pretend and such. He takes the gruffest voice he can and says : 

“Well, my lady can repay me with...um...Cookies, yes I think cookies will do !” 

“Cookies ? Well this sounds fair, for this dashing saving you just did ! Macadamia or chocolate chip ?” 

“Both ?” 

“Both it is !” 

It happened many times, that you paid your oldest son with cookies, after he saved you from getting lost in your own house...Even as an adult, he’d demand payment of fresh cookies, and then would go show them off to his siblings, refusing to share, as the “good” older brother he was haha. 

Lost together

You find Jason in one of the many gaming room, while you were trying to get to the kitchen. You know for a fact that there are no gaming rooms on the way to the kitchen, but you can’t really figure out where you messed up...Was it when you went left after the third bathroom ? Or when you took the stairs down right before one of the mezzanine ? Wait, did that mezzanine have a piano ? Because if it did then it was the right way, if it didn’t, then you were on the other side of the damn house. Or maybe just right next to...Yeah ok. Lost again. 

But you found Jason. 

Maybe he could help ? 

The boy was sitting in a huge comfortable leather armchair, reading a book. When he heard you come in the room, he snapped his head up and a huge smile illuminated his cute little face. 

“Finally ! Mom !” 

He jumps off the armchair, putting down his books, and goes to jump in your arms. Then he says : 

“I was trying to go to the arcade room ! Because I wanted to beat your high score on Tekken, but I always only followed someone there, and I can’t find it anymore...” 

Ah. The arcade. One of the only room you sort of knew where to find...If you started from the front door. Or your bedroom. Not from a random room god knew where in the mansion. 

Why was this house so big ??? 

“I’m sorry to bother you with this, I know I should’ve paid more attention when Alfred showed me, but it’s just-”

Oh no. Oh no the little one was looking at you worryingly, probably because you weren’t responding, and he thought he was being a pain. 

Little Buddy always thought he was bothering people...So hurriedly, you said : 

“Oh no no Jason, you’re not bothering me at all ! It’s just um..I’m um...I’m sort of lost too.” 

“You are ?”

“I am.” 

“Really ?” 

“Really.” 

“Well damn.” 

“Haha right ? Usually your father or Dick would save me. Or Alfred.”

“Yeah same.”

“I actually rarely walk around alone now that I think about it.” 

“Yeah same !”

There’s a short pause, where you look at each others and smile at this little moment. And then, as you slowly both realize that you’re lost, IN YOUR OWN HOME, and the ridiculousness of the situation down on you, you explode in laughter. 

You end up getting back to the armchair, and Jason settles comfortably in your lap as you continue to read the book he was reading, out loud, and he listens to you happily. Nobody ever really read him stories before you and Bruce... 

Bruce finds the both of you later in the day, fast asleep in the armchair, Jason latched on your arm as you hug him to you. 

He finds the sight so adorably charming. He sits down next to the two of you, enjoying this moment of quiet and peace. And then he picks up the book you were reading, reading it himself...Ah. It’s one of his favorite childhood book. 

He reads it, waiting for you two to wake up, not wanting to disturb your sleep. 

It’s rare, that he has some free time. And he really doesn’t mind spending it watching over his sleeping wife and son, waiting for them to wake up and guide their way back to the part of the house they know...

Damn. Damn he loves them so much. 

"I memorized the blueprints” 

“And see, here’s a secret passage !” 

The boy says excitedly, as he shows you and Bruce a hidden door in one of the wall, behind a heavy tapestry. 

“...Wait...I didn’t even know that was there...How did...What ?” 

Your husband asks, half-confused, half-impressed, with maybe a little hint of hurt pride in there as well...it’s his house after all. 

“I memorized the blueprints of the house that are in the library.” 

The little one says, smiling widely at his new father. Bruce responds : 

“I have those blueprints, I never saw this secret passage ever in my life.” 

“You must have the “official” blueprints, the one Allan Wayne gave to others. The blueprints in the library, the ones I found, were tucked away inside one of the book and showed more than the “official” ones. Your great-great-great-great-great grandfather was a very paranoid man, I assume he pulled a Madame Winchester on the builders.” 

“Madame Win...Huh ?” 

“You know, famous Winchester mansion ? Super haunted ? She gave instructions to many different people to build certain things and there isn’t really blueprints that shows a correct layout of everything ?”

“Right...Sure...” 

“I assume you were too busy building the bat cave to really pay attention to the house. But it’s quite a wonder ! There’s so many new secrets I haven’t discovered yet !” 

A soft, tender smile spreads on your husband’s face as he looks down at Tim. Bruce says : 

“That’s quite a discovery you found there my boy, and you say you memorized it already ?” 

“It was easy, I just had to keep in mind the-”

And then Tim started to get lost in long complicated explanation that you didn’t understand, while your husband seemed very interested. 

You couldn’t help but smile. How cute...

Today, you were sort of glad, that you got very lost in your own home again, and got saved by little Timmy. He hadn’t lived in the house for very long by that time, but already knew it even better than Bruce, apparently. 

It was so nice, to have such a sweet little on in your life again...Dick hadn’t been by in a while, busy with the titans. And Jason...

You didn’t want to think about Jason. 

Or at least, not in the way you would end up thinking about him. You wanted to remember his smiles, and how he always got lost too in this house. Not...Not...the broken body Bruce brought back...You...

You shooed the memory away, and focused on your son. 

Tim was now going on and on about how he found really cool places that weren’t on the normal blueprints, and how he wanted to show Bruce and you. 

And Bruce was smiling. For the first time in ages. Your husband was smiling, faced with such an excited little one. 

So yes. Yes, today you were glad you got lost in your own home, and that your tiny son found you and showed you the way. That it lead you to ask him how the hell was he that fast in memorizing the house’s layout, and then him explaining things about the blueprints. 

And consequently, how Bruce and him started to truly bond, started to talk about the house and about the Wayne legacy...

It was nice. To finally see your husband smile again. Propelled by a sudden surge of motherly love, you hugged Tim tight, and the boy, a bit confused at first, hugged you back without much questions. 

And this sight. 

His wife and his son hugging. 

It warmed Bruce’s heart in a way his heart hadn’t been warmed since he lost Jason. 

Yes. It was good, that sometimes you’d get lost in your own damn house. 

This is a fun game

By the time Cassandra came into your life, this “mom got lost again” thing became sort of a game. It was about who would find you first, when they realized you were lost. 

You’d be gone a little too long after saying : “I’m gonna go get the ice cream in the freezer”, and they knew. It was time to set a party to find you. 

“3, 2, 1...GO !” And they’d run in each different direction, searching for you. 

The winner gets cookies. Baked by you... 

Cass liked that game. 

Because even if she lost, she would’ve spend quality times with her family. Fun times. Looking for her beloved mother. 

Mother. 

The only mother she ever had. 

Mom. 

It’s a word that always easily rolled off her tongue. 

Mom. 

“Found, mom.” 

You jumped a little in the air, as your only daughter suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She was looking at you upside down, and it took you a little bit to realize she was actually dangling off in a very spider-man way off of the floor just above. She must’ve heard your footsteps (or more likely, your growls about being lost again). 

She jumped off, and you felt your heart stop, suddenly fearing she would fall down but..Not, she agilely jumps over the rail, and is in front of you, smiling. 

Finding you was Cass’ favorite game. Because when she did, you’d always look at her fondly, give her a hug, and praise her for being the best.

And for someone like Cassandra, who grew up treated like an emotionless machine by a man who never viewed her as more than a weapon...it felt nice, to have such a loving person in her life. 

When Cass thought of you, her mind filled with bright colors, and her heart with warmth. Because she grew up never learning how to speak, her thoughts didn’t quite work in words like most people, but in colors and temperatures. 

And you, you were reassuring colors and soothing warmth. 

Mom. 

Such a simple word. Yet it took her a while to be able to even say it. 

Now she could speak, in big thanks to you. And her father.

She loved you guys so much. So much. 

She loved you. 

“Mom.” 

She says, reaching a hand for yours. And you take it, smiling once more, shaking your head and apologizing that you made her look for you...Oh. 

Oh but she doesn’t mind. None of them do. 

Because when they find you. When they “save you”, you always look at them with such unconditional love. No matter what. 

Finding you is Cass’ favorite game. 

It always leaves her feeling nice and warm, loved and safe. 

Finding you is Cass’ favorite game. 

And one day, she’ll be able to tell you all of that. One day, she’ll be able to tell you to never apologize, because she loves to look for you. She loves you. 

One day. One day she’ll talk to you about all of this. 

But for now, it was fine for both of you that her feelings translated in only smiles, affectionate touch, and one very important word...

“Mom”. 

“I won’t let you get lost !” 

Damian hated the mere idea of you being in any kind of distress. 

ANY kind. 

So when he learned that you would often get lost in the Manor, and even as everyone assured him it just sort of became an inside joke within the family, your youngest son took it upon himself to make sure you’d never get lost again. 

He started to put up signs everywhere in the house, giving indications as to where you were and where was what. Detailed little maps, arrows and such. Drawn by himself. It took him WEEKS to finally cover the entire Manor. 

It’s something no one ever thought of before because...Although you often got lost, it was always nice to try and find you, and well, you would still know your way around the part of the house you’d most go to. 

In fact, when you got lost, it was often because you’d go in a wing you didn’t know much for whatever reason, and they’d know where to look for you. 

So they never really saw a reason to make signs telling you the right way. Or yeah, they never really thought about it. 

But Damian...Damian was set to make the house “lost proof”.

As a result, you definitely didn’t get lost as many times. Which was...nice ? 

But once, at dinner, Dick was reminiscing of that one time you got lost in the attic for some reason, and couldn’t find your way out, and him and Jason had to get you, and how they laughed a lot and you praised them for saving you...

And Damian grew quiet. And upset. When you asked him why, he refused to answer, but the next day, you ventured in a part of the house you rarely went to so you could go fetch something and...

All the signs telling you which way to go were gone. Which didn’t worry you much, you knew you’d be found by one of your family member before long, or would just find your own way out after a while. 

But it was odd nonetheless. 

It’s only when Damian found you, and “saved” you that you understood why the signs weren’t on anymore. 

Damian too, wanted to “save” you from getting lost. Wanted to laugh with you because it was silly that you got lost in your own house. Wanted you to bake him cookies as a reward for saving him. Wanted to share those bonding moments with you...

It was so cute, and showed how far Damian really went since Talia first dropped him on your door, that you couldn’t help but hug the hell out of your baby. 

He was a little embarrassed, but hugged you back nonetheless. 

Yes. Yes Damian had come along way, since he first came into your life. He learned how to love, how it felt to be loved, and how...how sometimes he would crave for your attention. 

And so he took down the signs. So he could save you. So he could share this with you, just like you did share those moments with all his other siblings. 

He took down the signs, because you getting lost was an important inside joke of this family...And because he was, now, part of this family. 

What even is this place...

Duke thought he would never EVER find his way back in this new house. 

His bedroom was in...east wing ? West wing ? ...SOMEWHERE. 

The first few days of living there were overwhelming, and he constantly had to make sure he wasn’t far from one of the other family member because he was so afraid to get lost. 

He couldn’t remember the right way to anywhere. This was all too big. 

He grew up in a small two bedrooms apartment, in the heart of Gotham’s sludge. He could find his way in this gigantic city easily, knew the place like the back of his hand but...

The Manor ? 

It was uncharted territory. In every sense of the term. 

First it was on the outskirt of Gotham, in the hills, a place he never set foot in.

And then the house, but also the land around it was bigger than his neighborhood ! It was so foreign for him... 

But he hid this well. He hid the fact he was overwhelmed well. And just made sure he’d always be with someone when walking around the manor. 

He tried to remember the way they took, he really did. But every time he thought he got it, they’d use another way and he was totally lost again. 

Alfred showed him around the first day, but it was too many informations at the same time. Him and his ADHD couldn’t process it.  

What would you guys say, if he mentioned he was getting lost in the house ? Surely, you’d mock him. Or just feel sorry for him ? 

He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to know. Acclimating to this new life was already hard enough, what with discovering his meta-powers, having to deal with what happened to his parents, and living in this all new environment. 

You made it comfortable and easy for him. You were just so welcoming and loving. But it was still hard...he was only a boy. 

And so he said nothing. And now...now, lost and walking through corridors that all looked the same, he dearly regretted it. 

He turned a corner, and...there you were. 

“Oh, hey Dukie”. 

He smiled shyly, afraid you would know he was lost, and said : 

“Hi.” 

“What’s up ?” 

“Nothing, I was going to- I was exploring the house.” 

He was about to say he was trying to get to the movie theater, where Damian  and Cass were surely waiting for him by that time, so they could watch a movie. But what if he was totally off ? Far from where the home cinema was supposed to be ? 

“Exploring the house” sounded like a safe thing to say. 

“Oh, careful not to get lost haha. Happens to me all the time...” 

Wait...What ? Were you joking ? He wasn’t sure. 

“Actually, I’m lost right now. I wanted to take a shortcut from the kitchen to the bat cave to see Bruce -I miss him- -Yeah I know only saw him couple of hours ago-, but I must’ve taken a wrong turn...Somewhere...”

You were holding your chin in your hand now, trying to remember where you could possibly have taken the wrong turn. And Duke realized you were serious.

“You’re lost ?” 

“Yeaaaah. Go ahead, you can laugh. I know I’d laugh at myself too haha. I just could...never quite figure out how this house worked ? I grew up in a one bedroom apartment, sleeping in the living room with my brothers. And then when I moved in on my own I had an even smaller place. So. It’s a change. Even after all those years I’m still not quite used to it.”

“Ah me too ! I mean, I just can’t figure out the layout of this place !”

“Ah ? Hey, for you too, sometimes you think you definitely know where you’re going and then you find yourself outside in the garden and you just have no idea how you got there ?”

“Yes !!!! I was sure of my way so many times but then one wrong turn and...here I am.” 

“Well Duke, believe me I get it. I get it haha.” 

You then proceeded to tell him all the most embarrassing stories of you getting lost, including that one time at a charity event held in your house, someone asked you to take them to a certain place, and your asshole of a husband let you do it just because he knew you wouldn’t find the way, and because you getting lost with their guest was the only fun entertainment of the night. 

And this. 

This simple shared thing, of you two getting lost...

It was amongst the first time Duke really felt home. Really felt like he wasn’t alone. 

Those past few days had been difficult for him. This was all so new. 

And yet, with a few smiles, silly stories and support..You made him feel like he was truly home. And he didn’t even notice the hours you two passed, sat on the floor in that corridor, before Bruce found you and took you back to where you initially wanted to go...   

Saved by the littlest bird

Thomas is about eight, and you’re about to have a heart pinching flashback as he’s going to remind you of your first baby...

Dick was going to be almost thirty, by then. He was married, and with a kid on the way (I’m not here for ship wars, you chose with who he is, wether it’s Babs or Kori, or whoever else). Oh, how long ago it was, that his little eight years old hand would hold yours to guide you across the manor...

Too bad. Because right now, you definitely needed some help navigating around. Lost again. Ugh. T’was getting old. 

“Mommy...You’ve been living in this house for over 15 years now, how can you still get lost ?” 

Your littlest baby. Thomas. Appearing from around the corner, and as he saw you, rolling his eyes like never before. Yet smirking, in a very “Bruce” way. Ah. Like father, like son. 

“...”

Is your only answer. 

You avoid his judging gaze, but did it in a way that was overdoing it, so he knew you were just pretending to be embarrassed haha. He rolled his eyes, and then takes out a walkie talkie and says : 

“I found her Damdam, she’s in the West Wing near one of the drawing room. Over.” 

“Ok, thanks little buddy, let’s meet up in the kitchen, over.” 

“Ok cool, be right there, over.” 

This little exchange made you smile, oh those two were very close. Well, all your children were close. But Damian and Thomas had a little something, because they were the youngest, and because Damian took to heart his big brother role. He was also the only one still living in the manor by that time, all your other children having their own place in Gotham, going to college or already working...a wave of nostalgia threatened to take over you, and you quickly thought of something else. 

“Little buddy”, Damian called Thomas. Copying you for sure. How cute.  

“Come on mommy, I’ll take you back to the kitchen. You can make us cookies then, yes ?” 

“Of course my baby, any flavor you want.” 

“Well Damian will surely want the white chocolate chip ones, so I’m good with those too.” 

Thomas was such a sweet consilient boy. He didn’t really mind anything, and would follow you guys anywhere...as long as he could be with his family, and enjoy their presence, he just never minded. 

He definitely had a stubborn and strong personality, but he was still oh so sweet. And nice. Even if he did mock you a lot for getting lost in your own home...

“Where did you get the walkies ?” 

“Dick gave it to me last time he came, so we could cheat at hide and seek. Don’t tell Tim.” 

You chuckle, imagining how nuts your kids would get because Dick always goddamn won...

Ah and of course Dick would give a talkie to his littlest brother. To be honest, Thomas reminded you of Dick in lots of ways. 

They were both gentle, funny, sweet and nice...with outburst of anger and pride sometimes. Ah quite like Bruce too. You loved them all so damn much. 

“Now come mom, I think dad will be home soon too ! We can watch a movie before the patrol ! With cookies !!” 

You smile, and you take your son’s hand. Your youngest boy. Reminiscent of when Dick used to do this. All those years ago. 

Reminiscent of a time you didn’t feel so weak... 

(I’M SORRY I HAD TO ADD THIS LAST LINE FOR IT TO FIT IN THE WORLD I SORT OF MADE !! If you know you know). 

And if you’re wondering who the hell Thomas is : Polichinelle, “Go away, you’re confusing my baby”, Shaky steps and bad teaching, Master of Diaper, How do you make babies ?, What it means to be a big brother - By Damian Wayne and After Batmom’s death)

Bonus : There’s a moment, in one of the video I watched, where the guy showing the house off is basically like : “You might think this is a beautiful dining room…but it’s not, it’s a breakfast room”, and I had random flashes of Alfred showing the manor to one of the kids, or even to Batmom as she first comes to the house, and him talking about the “breakfast room”, and the boys/Batmom just not being able to get over the fact there’s a room that exist just to eat breakfast in…(wait till they see the personal SPA floor uh). Only Damian would be like : “Tt. Only one breakfast room ?” XD. Anyway. I thought I shared, because it made me laugh to imagine how ridiculous Wayne Manor is. Wait worst, in one of the video the people living in it had a room bigger than my entire apartment that existed for the SOLE PURPOSE OF CUTTING BOUQUETS OF FRESH FLOWERS ??????? That I’m sure they wouldn’t have. I mean, a garden that Alfred would cherish, for sure. But...an entire room just to cut FRESH (the dude really put an emphasis on that) flowers...My guy...what...

_________________________________________________

Ok the end. Hope you liked whatever my thoughts were on this Saturday night. I didn't put as much effort in this as I usually do and wrote it rather fast, hope it’s still ok, I just wanted to share a little something that wouldn't leave my head up until I finally wrote about it :). 

PS : Also it’s all sort of a joke I thought about, I know most people would probably find their way after living for ages in the same place, but ah you get what I meant haha. Also I get lost in my own basement sometimes because of how the layout is, so ya know...hahaha. 

[ktheist]

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced  first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

x

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

x

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

x

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been  proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

x

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left,  boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

x

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school,  taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

x

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

[ikemenlibrary]

In Your Veins (Ikemen Vampire) - Part 2

Series summary: There’s a mystery of a missing resident to be solved and while Arthur takes the lead on the case, the head of the mansion can’t help but to think something bigger than Scarlett missing is afoot.

Warning: This does contain spoilers from the main routes already released, Isaac’s being the main one for the time being.

Chapter 2: Act One, Scene One

❝What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.❞ ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act 5, Scene 4

Life in the mansion was dull, repetitive, and boring for Isaac. He woke up early, ate some breakfast with his Blanc, and studied in his room until Sebastian hand-delivered his mid-morning snack. After that, he might take his studies to the library or go visit Leonardo with an invention that he couldn’t quite figure out how to get working. Isaac would stick with that project until dinnertime, where Napoleon would deliver the meal to him while trying to engage in some idle conversation with Isaac. He’d then spend time in the garden looking at the stars if the weather permitted, otherwise he’d stay in and sulk around in his room before retiring to bed after his last bottle of Blanc for the day.

Isaac was stuck in a rut, and it was slowly driving him mad.  Before, Isaac could be found liking routine, craving for it like he would a bottle of Blanc if he went too long without drinking. Whereas now, the routine was unsettling to him. Isaac missed the days she’d come knocking at his door, coercing him out of his room with a smile and a promise of doing something together. Even if that thing was sitting in the library reading together, at least he was with her.

“Master Isaac?” Sebastian knocked on the door to his bedroom and Isaac distractedly called for him to come in, his nose buried in a book while scribbling illegible notes in the margins of the book that Isaac was quickly making his way through. “Here’s your lunch. I’m also delivering a message from M. le Comte.” Isaac put his pen down and pushed his glasses up his nose, meeting the butler’s eyes. “He wishes that you’ll join him for afternoon tea.”

Isaac nodded in acceptance, grimacing as he stomached yet another cold sandwich. He was never a fan of them, he only ate them out of necessity, because he couldn’t drink Blanc on its own. When she made them though, Isaac found himself enjoying them more, looking forward to them even. She wasn’t here anymore though, so back to the cold boring sandwiches Isaac knew and hated.

“Master Isaac, if I could speak freely for a moment?” Sebastian hesitated at the door, his hand poised like he would open it if Isaac dismissed him. He didn't, instead, he gestured to his other chair, the one that hadn’t been occupied since the last time she was in his room.

Sebastian sitting there didn’t feel right, and it brought a deep ache to Isaac’s chest that he could only describe as a type of pain he couldn’t even put a name to. It was the ache of the hundreds of years he’d have to spend by his lonesome. “What is it?”

“You haven’t seemed like yourself lately. I know you like routine but all your movements seem lackluster… Is it because she’s gone?”

“She’s not gone!” Anger bubbled up in Isaac's throat. Anger from the fact that everyone’s been tip-toeing around him for a month, anger from the fact that he’d never get to see her again. Isaac wouldn’t admit it, but the thing that angered him the most was the fact that she even left in the first place. “Gone would imply she’s dead and I wish so badly that she was because then I could wrap my head around the fact that there is no possible way we could ever spend more time together. Instead, she is missing from all our lives, from the mansion… from me.” Isaac hung his head, pounding his hand on the other half of his sandwich, the soggy bread squishing uncomfortably in his fist. “She left me.”

“Master Isaac I--” Sebastian started, his mouth opening and closing a few times before staying shut, not knowing what to say.

“And Gods, I hate these damned sandwiches. They’re always cold and soggy!” Isaac was being unreasonable now, he knew that. He also knew that he’d never let out any of the anger and resentment he’s had for a month and now it exploded, coming out in one long stream that he couldn’t stop.

“I can make you something else to eat with your Blanc. I never meant to make you uncomfortable during your eating times.” Sebastian moved to get up, “Maybe I shall fetch le Comte for tea here, so the rest of the mansion won’t be notified of your... “ Sebastian paused, not quite sure of the right word to use. “Scene.”

“I’ll go to him now, everyone’s already heard it already.” Isaac wiped his hand on the napkin, the spicy scent of mustard filling his room and making him grimace. He set down the napkin on the discarded sandwich and before he left his room, he paused and turned back to Sebastian. “Sorry,”

Sebastian nodded in thanks at the apology the physicist gave him and picked up the plate of the squashed sandwich, following a visibly upset Isaac down the hall before turning toward the kitchen.

As Sebastian was cleaning the plates from lunch, Vincent approached him hesitantly, a kind smile on his face. “Sebastian, is Isaac alright?”

Sebastian didn’t stop working, instead opting not to meet the painter’s eyes. “No, I don’t believe he is.” The plate clanged against the sink and the butler cringed as he dropped it. “I do not think anything could make him feel better again.”

“Well… Scarlett could.” Vincent didn’t ask, he stated. And he was right, nothing could make Isaac feel better except hearing from her or seeing her, but that wasn’t possible. She’s gone back to her own time, back to her old life. Her leaving didn’t just affect Isaac, it affected every resident in the mansion. “She always knew what to say.”

In the short time of her being there, she got close with everyone. She and Vincent spent time  bonding over their love of flowers. He’d go to her if he needed help with a color palette on his latest painting and she’d answer with a soft smile.

Arthur occupied some of her time after work by inviting her to play a game with him, whether it be chess, cards, or picking her mind to see if she could solve the latest crime before the answer was revealed that he had concocted for the newest Sherlock stories.

She’d sometimes accompany Theodorus to an art gallery he was scouting out, giving her opinion when it was asked but otherwise just along for the company.

She and Dazai spent their time fantasizing over traditional Japanese dishes neither of them could make. They’d asked Sebastian once to make them and he scoffed and flicked her forehead, telling her to learn the dishes herself.

Every once in a while, she’d knock on the door to Leonardo’s room and pick his brain about all the odd jobs he had (as well as nagging him to pick up his room). Sometimes she’d accompany him to the city when he went, but it was usually her fawning over the stories he told her about later on.

Comte de Saint Germain missed their afternoon tea time together. You’d usually find them in the garden together sipping and laughing as old friends do. He even missed cleaning up the tea she’d cause him to spill from laughing too hard.

The mansion had been quiet since she left, it was like all the lightbulbs burnt out (although, Sebastian would never let them) and all they had left were dim flickering candles.

“Yes, I suppose her being here would make all of us feel better once again.” Sebastian theorized. “I do have to admit that I miss her work ethic. She was good at what she put her mind to.”

“Do… Do you know why she left?” Vincent’s normally bright eyes held a sadness that Sebastian could safely say he’s never seen before in his life. It was a look that incited such feelings of grief that Sebastian had to pause what he was doing to take a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m afraid no one knows.”

“Ah, but is that true?” Arthur’s head rounded the corner into the kitchen before the rest of him did. “She told me she left a letter for Isaac before she left.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this before?” Vincent turned on the mystery writer, his face a painted portrait of confusion. “Did Isaac receive the letter?”

“No clue, it’s such a faint memory that I would almost say I dreamed it. Except for the fact that I just found this.” Arthur’s gloved hand held up a card in between his index and middle finger.

Sebastian walked over and snatched the card out of Arthur’s hand, admiring the handwriting for a moment before focusing on the note. Make sure Isaac gets the letter. Signed with her initials.

“And I assume based on how Isaac’s been moping around that he’s not gotten the letter.” Vincent bit his lip thoughtfully. “Do we know where it is?”

“I hardly remembered that she left this card for me, let alone any other details.” Arthur poured himself a black coffee and made a slight face. “I miss her coffee.”

“I miss her too,” Vincent agreed while Sebastian nodded his head in agreement. “The answers we are searching for are in that letter though, so we must find it. I’d do anything to see Isaac smile again.”

“Me too, old chap. He didn’t even smile when he beat me at cards the other day. Although, that might have been because he knew I let him win.” Arthur went off on a tangent, describing all the efforts he’s gone to make Isaac smile, and yet didn’t even receive half of one in return. “At least he’s out of his room.”

“He’s having tea with M. le Comte right now.” Sebastian supplied helpfully, returning to the dishes. “He’s not let me clean his room since she left, maybe this is a good time to go search it for the letter.”

Arthur’s eyes had a mischievous glint in them as he glanced at Vincent. “What do you say, pal? Ready to put on our detective hats.”

“Sure, Arthur. Let’s find Theo on the way and see if he’ll help.” Vincent gently led Arthur out of the kitchen, trying to remember where he had last seen his younger brother.

Once they were out of sight, Sebastian slid to the floor, covering his face with his hands and letting out a few stray tears, not quite sure why he was upset but at the same time wishing she was here to comfort him in his time of need.

[luminescencefics]

fade in, fade out - part two

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***

The Backstory

September 2006

In Nora Priestley’s fourteen years of life, she’s never lived this far away from the ocean before. It’s always been just right outside her window, a quick ten-minute trek from Thames Street until she reached the rolling dunes of Rejects Beach. Smelling the salt in her hair and feeling her skin grow sticky from the feeling of the ocean air was practically second-nature to her, but ever since she moved to the middle of nowhere Connecticut for boarding school, she’s never felt more disconnected from normality in her life.

Nora’s never really been a big fan of embracing change. She’d like to blame that on the fact that she’s never really had any monumental shifts to her tectonic plates so far in her short life, and she’s not quite sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.

It’s always been just her and her mom. A dynamic duo. A tag team of epic proportions. 

Growing up in Newport, Rhode Island could be worse, Nora thinks. She was lucky enough to grow up in a small coastal town where everybody accepted her in one way or another. Even though she was much different than the other kids her age, considering she spent most of her time alone while her mother worked, she never felt unhappy. Life was simple. Life was easy.

Nora and her mother, Shannon, lived in a small apartment in a renovated old colonial townhouse at the bottom of Thames Street. It was a third-floor walk-up, and in the heat of the summer when the humidity made the wallpaper begin to curl at the edges of her tiny paisley-coated bedroom, Nora had to sleep with her creaky window open with nothing but a thin sheet to cover her sweat-soaked body, the soft sounds of the rolling waves crashing against the shore lulling her to sleep.

Shannon Priestley was the ultimate leading lady in Nora’s life. She referred to Nora as her perfect mistake, because having a baby the summer she turned eighteen with a boy she thought would be her forever was the very definition of that phrase. But she handled it like she did everything else in her life—with grace and dignity, and nothing but a big gleaming grin on her face that always made Nora and everyone else lucky enough to be around her sunbeam feel that everything would be okay. 

With a one-year-old baby on her hip and a bright and shiny high school diploma under her belt, Shannon found a job listing to be a nanny for the Clemonte’s. Without a second’s deliberation, she packed up her things and moved to the tip of the state to Newport. 

The Clemonte’s were one of the wealthiest families in Newport, hailing from an impressive lineage of old money with an expansive estate of fourteen acres overlooking Ochre Point and the Atlantic Ocean. They were one of those families that named their properties, and when Shannon Priestley first stepped foot inside The Breakers mansion, she knew right then and there that her new bosses had very high expectations for her.

Shannon became the singular nanny to Warren and Jane Clemonte’s baby son, William. He was born three months after Nora, and even though Shannon felt slighted that she had to spend most of her days with another family’s child while her own was being watched by their downstairs neighbor, she promised to split her time evenly. And even though twenty-four hours in a day was never enough for Shannon, she made sure to spend most of it with Nora.

And Nora was always grateful for that. 

The second Nora was old enough to take care of herself, she started going to The Breakers after school so that her mom could walk her home. It was at that very moment when she had her first taste of ostentatious luxury, and from then on it never failed to amaze her. The other half certainly did live differently than Nora and her mother, and stepping foot inside the Clemonte’s mansion made that realization startlingly clear. 

This was when she first met William Clemonte. Nora always knew he existed, considering her mother would sprinkle in small anecdotes about him while doing other mundane tasks. “Willy was very quiet today,” Shannon would tell Nora on their walk home from Ochre Point to Lower Thames. “Mr. and Mrs. Clemonte want Willy to take piano lessons and learn Latin. How on earth is a seven-year-old supposed to handle that?”

To Nora, Willy was somewhat of a fictional character living behind the towering walls of The Breakers. She imagined him being a smaller boy, blonde with blue eyes and wearing some sort of matching ensemble sitting inside the thick walls of his mansion, overlooking the deep cobalt ocean through a grand wall of windows. But when she meets him one afternoon after her first day of second grade, she could not be any more wrong.

Sure, Willy Clemonte was a small boy, but he was by no means shy or scared of her. He took her on a tour through the grand halls of The Breakers, showed her all of the secret passageways built inside the walls from when the mansion was first erected back in the early twentieth century, and shared his brand new toys with her. 

But most importantly, he listened to her. He asked her a million questions about public school, about the world outside of his tall fortress, about the television shows Shannon let Nora watch after dinner, and the different kinds of popular music other kids their age were listening to.

“Wait, so *NSYNC isn’t just Justin Timberlake?” Willy would ask whenever Nora would show him what was inside her portable CD player (which was almost exclusively No Strings Attached until she reached the fourth grade). 

“Oh my god, Willy! *NSYNC is a boyband! Justin is just the best one,” Nora would scold right back, shoving the plastic headphones over his blonde head of hair so that the felt cushions would press against his ear, the vibrating thumps of “Bye Bye Bye” playing through the electronic equipment.

Whenever he would ask her about school, Willy was always shocked to hear how different her experience was from his own. Nora would tell him about the yellow school buses that picked up and dropped off her friends, she would show up to his house afterward wearing jeans and a pink Gap sweatshirt and he was always surprised to learn that kids could wear whatever they wanted during the day, and when she would come over on Fridays and tell him that her mother gave her a dollar for pizza day at lunchtime, Willy wished more and more that he could go to public school with her, too.

While Willy was nothing but sunshine and kindness, Warren Clemonte was the complete opposite. A cold and distant man, stern and grumpy with a perpetual frown on his face, he sent a terrifying chill all the way down to Nora’s bones until they rattled together like a hollow instrument. And one Thursday afternoon when Shannon was busy packing Willy’s bags for the Clemonte’s annual Christmas trip to Aspen, Warren caught his son running around the main hall searching through every nook and cranny for Nora’s impressive hiding spot. It was only once she heard the bellowing yells when she emerged from behind an old armoire in the library, peeking her head around the corner to watch Warren yell at Willy in the echoing hallway.

“What do you think you’re doing, running around when you’ve left your Latin workbook unfinished?” Warren demanded, his low voice bouncing off the thick walls.

“I’m sorry, dad. I was just—”

“—Just what? Playing around and avoiding your responsibilities? How are you supposed to learn anything if you spend all of your time dilly-dallying with that girl, William?”

Willy began to cry then, and before Nora could interfere, her mother was already ten steps ahead of her, entering the main hall and apologizing profusely while her daughter stayed hidden behind the old armoire, watching everything with regretful eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clemonte. I was just packing for Willy, I didn’t realize he had run off. I’ll make sure it never happens again, sir,” Shannon said, placing a comforting arm around Willy’s shaking shoulders while his father stood barely five feet away, watching his wailing son with lifeless eyes. 

“Please do, Miss Priestley. William does not need any more distractions.” His voice held a clipped finality to it, and when he walked away and Nora appeared from behind the wall to approach Willy who was clutching her mother for dear life, she never understood how his father could just leave his son to fall apart in front of him like that.

That was the last afternoon Nora ever spent at The Breakers. 

Up until four months ago, Nora was almost certain that the entire Clemonte family had forgotten that she existed, and that treacherous afternoon with Willy nearly seven years ago was just a sad memory that could be tarnished for the rest of eternity. But when her mother comes home with a thick black and red folder, the words Townbridge Academy in capital letters splayed against the front page above a golden crest, Nora’s never been more confused in her life.

When she asked her mother what she was doing with a boarding school acceptance letter in her hand that Nora had never heard of before, the answer she received was definitely not what she had expected. Apparently, Mrs. Clemonte found out that Nora was planning on attending the public high school on Broadway Street, and apparently, she believed that she could offer Shannon a lending hand. Nora would like to blame it all on Jane Clemonte’s philanthropic tendencies, but a few phone calls and a faxed copy of Nora’s stellar transcripts later, Nora was appointed a lofty scholarship to attend Townbridge Academy in the fall. 

All things considered, Nora did not want to go. She liked her middle school friends, she liked being her own person, she liked knowing that her mom was only a twenty-minute walk away, and most importantly, she liked not having to be associated with a family like the Clemonte’s. She didn’t want to be seen as a charity case, and accepting the scholarship on Mrs. Clemonte’s behalf to attend a prestigious boarding school like Townbridge Academy was exactly that.

But when her mother sat her down and told her how amazing this opportunity was, and how much Nora could accomplish with a diploma from one of the best schools in the country, Nora couldn’t bring herself to say no. Especially when her mother held her close and whispered in her ear, “God, Nora, you can do all of the things I never could have done,” Nora knew that there was no way she could break her mother’s heart.

Because now, standing in her new dorm room with deep oak walls, a creaky polished hardwood floor, a red ornamental rug that smelled a bit like Warren Clemonte’s cologne, and a small twin bed nestled in the corner underneath a window overlooking the bleak green hills of Connecticut—Nora Priestley wishes she had told her mother no.

Before she can even wallow in her own self-imposed misery, the front door opens revealing an older man carrying a trolley holding a matching six-piece set of luggage. Nora looks down to the singular old leather suitcase she purchased at a surplus store on Spruce Street resting on the floor, comparing it to the monogrammed navy blue set with the gold letters ARW spanning across each piece.

The man begins placing each suitcase onto the floor without uttering a word to a very confused Nora, and suddenly the door opens wider, a pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair floating into the room. She’s wearing a white tennis skirt that rests a few inches above her kneecap, with a powder blue collared shirt cuffed at the wrists. For a brief moment, Nora wonders if her mother purchased the wrong uniform set for her, but when the girl lifts her eyes from her Blackberry and looks over at Nora, she notices a sailor’s crest embroidered on the right side above her chest with more initials, and she begins to breathe a little. 

“Hi! You must be my roommate, I’m Nor—”

“—Where are the rest of your bags?” the girl interrupts, eyeing the old leather suitcase disdainfully. Nora’s fingers immediately fly up to her scalp and begin raking through her blonde hair, a nervous habit she’s tried her hardest to get rid of.

“I have a duffle on the desk chair, too,” Nora explains quietly, removing her hand from her hair so that she can point towards the old wooden desk that holds her mother’s duffle bag.

Nora watches as the girl’s piercing gaze shifts from her two flimsy bags to her outfit. And when Nora watches beady hazel eyes take in her old white tank top, her mom’s grey knit cardigan, thrifted bootcut jeans, and sandals from two summers ago, Nora’s never wanted to disappear more in her life. 

Before she can find the words to speak, Nora hears a shrill “Alyssa!” echo through the hallway, until a matching set of girls wearing nautical-inspired clothing and thick headbands are hugging the strawberry blonde-haired girl who just so obviously judged Nora a few moments ago.

“Who’s this?” one of the girls asks Alyssa, breaking away from their hug and looking over at Nora with interest.

Just as Nora reaches a hand out to introduce herself, Alyssa says, “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go, girls,” and the three girls spin around without even uttering a goodbye. 

Nora watches as they walk down the hallway, giggling the entire way as if they hadn’t singlehandedly just ruined her first official day away from home.

***

October 2006

The first month at boarding school is just a series of Nora playing catch up. While she thought going to public school and hanging out with normal people would be enough to prepare her for high school, three weeks in she’s never felt more lost in her entire life.

She’s one of the only students who doesn’t own a cellphone, she wears second-hand Sperry’s instead of fancy loafers with gold links on the front, her backpack is a maroon Jansport while most students opted for leather messenger bags, and when people ask her how she spent her summer, she’s gotten used to the wide-eyed look they give her when she explains that she scooped ice cream near the beach for tips.

Nora’s not naive. She knows that she’s referred to as The Scholarship Girl behind her back, she knows that Alyssa complains to her elitist friends about how dreadful it is to be forced to room with a girl who wears hand-me-down clothing, and she knows that adjusting to life at Townbridge was going to be the very definition of arduous. 

But she remembers what her mother told her—how Nora’s skin is thicker than she thinks, and no matter how different she is to everybody else, she’s still just as deserving of a top-notch education. 

Even though Nora was at the top of her class for most of her life, she still felt far behind the rest of her classmates at Townbridge. She spends the first few weeks getting very acquainted with the walls of the library, making the nearly twenty-minute trek from her dorm in Emerson Hall to Millikan Library across campus. Classes have only just begun, but Nora can’t afford to fall any more behind than she already has. So instead of making friends and signing up for various clubs and sports teams, Nora’s allowed her backside to practically mold into the stiff wooden chairs inside the empty library.

Nora would have completely forgotten about the First Year Mixer being held that evening if not for Alyssa and her friends getting ready in her dorm room. When she walks in still wearing her uniform well after classes have ended for the day, the three girls look at her as if she were crazy.

“Did you forget about the mixer tonight, Nora?” Grace, one of the twins, asks with a shocked expression decorating her pretty face. All three girls are wearing colorful Lilly Pulitzer dresses, passing along mascara and eyeshadow amongst themselves in preparation for tonight.

“Uh, no I was just—”

“—Making friends with the books again?” Alyssa sneers, earning a giggle from the girls.

Nora chooses not to respond. It’s just easier that way.

Walking over to her wardrobe, Nora sorts through her limited selection of clothing to find something appropriate to wear for tonight. She didn’t even want to be in attendance, but she’s figured that she’s probably spent enough time on her own, and that maybe, in the off chance that Townbridge has some normal students, she can make a friend or two.

The only two dresses she brought with her were a simple long-sleeved cream sweater dress that fell just above her knees, and a thin summer dress her mother bought her two years ago that was tighter and fell around mid-thigh. She goes with the sweater dress, deeming it the best outfit she has to just simply blend in. Once it’s over her head, she reaches for her thigh-high socks and brown boots she got as a graduation gift, slipping them on quickly. October has left a brisk chill in the nighttime air, and considering her jackets consisted of a worn-in winter parka and an oversized flannel she scored at Goodwill, Nora thinks this combination will be more than fine.

She reaches for the comb on her desk and begins to rake it through her knotted hair, smoothing out the kinks and leaving the strands to fall in their messy, wavy natural state. Just as she’s digging through her backpack to try and find her lip balm and mascara, she can’t help but overhear Alyssa gossiping to Grace and Erin loudly from across the room.

“Harry’s plane landed a few hours ago,” Alyssa gushes, plucking the blush from Grace’s hands and beginning to apply it to the apples of her cheeks.

“Oh my God, no way! You must be so excited, Lyss!” Erin squeaks, reaching for the lipgloss that Alyssa just used. Before she can even remove the lid, Alyssa swats at her wrists and tells her to pick another color.

“Have you been texting all summer?” Grace asks from behind the vanity.

Alyssa nods, readjusting her freshly curled hair. “Ever since he left the Hamptons in July, yeah. We’ve been messaging back and forth. He told me he can’t wait to see me tonight.”

“That’s so romantic, Lyss!” Erin says, and Nora tries her hardest not to roll her eyes. “I can’t believe they let him miss the first three weeks of school.”

“He’s Harry Styles, Erin,” Grace chides, turning to face her sister with slanted eyes. “He can do whatever he wants.”

Nora twists the mascara wand back into the tube before backing away from her desk, double-checking her outfit to make sure that it was suitable enough. Just as she gives her hair one last fluff, she hears Alyssa ask, “Are you really not going to do anything with your hair?”

Nora turns towards her with a sheepish look, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t own any styling tools so…” she lets the words fall from her mouth, watching the three girls in front of her look at her as if she had a second head growing out of her neck.

“You’ve never straightened your hair?! I’m sure Alyssa will let you borrow—”

“—Erin! Enough. Let’s go, we’re going to be late,” Alyssa scolds, ending the conversation abruptly. Before Nora can even shoot a smile in Erin’s direction, the three girls are already out the door, leaving Nora to walk to the Great Hall by herself. 

The problem with spending all of her time walking from her dorm to the lecture halls on East Campus to Millikan Library is that she seemingly forgot where every other building was. Trying to locate the Great Hall in daylight was already difficult for Nora, but now with the sun practically set behind the horizon and her sense of direction completely shit, she starts panicking when she’s walked by the dining hall for the third time.

An upperclassman saves Nora before she can have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of the quad, and with two minutes to spare, Nora finds a row with a few empty seats towards the back of the room. 

Nobody seems to have noticed her, save for the girls in the row in front of her who turn around when Nora’s boots jostle their chairs. She offers them a muffled apology, and just as quickly as they turned around to look at her, they swivel their necks to face the front again.

Nora sighs to herself, before lifting her head to hear the Headmaster begin his speech. After listening to him drawl about the mission statement and his expectations for the first-year students, Nora immediately wishes she never left her dorm room. She can feel her eyes begin to droop, and before her body can slump further down into her chair, the sound of a heavy oak door closing echoes throughout the Great Hall, and Nora feels her body springing upwards.

Headmaster Clayton pauses in his monotonous ramblings, and before the entire collection of students in front of Nora can turn around to see what the interruption was, a long body falls into the chair next to hers, and the Headmaster resumes his speech as if nothing ever happened. 

“Did I miss anything?” an impossibly British voice whispers in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit surprised by the low timbre of it. She looks over at him and finds herself staring into green pools with a golden shimmer surrounding his irises. Nora’s never been captivated by a boy before—but the one sitting next to her with fluffy chocolate curls falling over his forehead, surrounding his ears, and ending at the nape of his neck might possibly be the first. His hands are shoved inside the pockets of an expensive-looking black trench coat, and his upper body is leaning towards hers as he awaits her response. When Nora notices his pink lips forming into a small smirk, she’s almost positive that she’s been caught staring at this boy for far too long.

“Uh, no. Not really,” she whispers back, scrutinizing the way her voice squeaked at the beginning of her sentence.

His smirk shifts into a full-blown grin, and Nora can feel her cheeks begin to burn. “Hm, sounds like somebody wasn’t paying attention in the first place.”

Before Nora can retort, the boy near her chuckles softly at her nervous expression. “Can’t say I blame you, love. Clayton’s a fucking fossil.”

Nora giggles, causing the girls in front of her to turn around again with a murderous expression on their faces. She stops abruptly, and after they’ve snapped their heads forward for the second time, she looks over to the boy on her left and finds him trying his hardest to stifle another chuckle.

He shifts his body so he’s no longer leaning in Nora’s direction, and she’s a bit saddened by the sudden distance between them both. 

Nora replays the interaction in her inexperienced, fourteen-year-old mind, wondering if the boy near her was just flirting with her. There’s no denying that she thinks he’s cute, considering she finds herself sneaking looks at him every few minutes during the duration of Headmaster Clayton’s speech just to get another glimpse of his soft hair and sunken dimples. And on more than one occasion, he catches her in his periphery, shooting her that charming smirk that never fails to make her cheeks blush. 

The moment Headmaster Clayton wraps up his speech and the rest of the students begin to stand, Nora turns towards the boy and finds that he’s already looking at her. Now that they’ve exited their row, Nora notices how tall he is, taking in his long legs clad in black denim, his even longer torso in a similar black shirt. The all-dark ensemble somehow makes him look older. Makes him look mysterious. Makes him look even more handsome—and suddenly Nora’s grown a bit nervous.

“I’m Nora, by the way,” she says, sticking her hand out for him to shake. He hesitates, looking between her face and her outstretched hand with a smile on his face, finding it incredibly cute that a girl his age would greet him so formally. 

Just before his hand can fall into hers, another hand claps him on the shoulder and he’s forced to look at the intrusion, his own arm falling back to his side. “Harry, my man! How was the flight?”

When Nora looks over his shoulder, she notices two boys greeting him warmly. She hasn’t really met anybody at Townbridge aside from Alyssa, Grace, and Erin, so she’s not surprised when she doesn’t recognize the two other boys infiltrating their small bubble.

But upon further inspection, Nora realizes that she does, in fact, recognize one of them.

Standing directly in her line of vision is none other than Willy Clemonte. Although it’s been seven years since Nora last saw him, there’s no denying that the sandy-haired, blue-eyed teenager in front of her is him. He’s practically almost the same height as his father now, towering over Nora in his khaki pants and a white cable-knit sweater. His hair still tangles in his eyelashes and his cheeks are still dusted with freckles, and Nora’s stunned at the sudden rush of memories that flood her insides.

He seems to have made the same startling realization as Nora did, because his eyes begin to widen almost comically, and a strained expression falls over his features. Before they can give away that they’ve been staring at each other, the boy from before, now known to Nora as Harry, spins around on his heels and gives her a small smile.

“Nora, right?” he asks, and she nods hesitantly. “Where are you from?”

“Uh, Newport,” Nora answers.

“Oh, wicked! So you must know Will, then?” Harry asks, seemingly oblivious to the awkward tension radiating from the two of them. 

Before she can respond, Will clears his throat and takes a step forward. With one last panicked look at Nora, he tells Harry, “Yeah, man. Her mom was one of our maids.”

“Wait, what?” Harry asks, confusion written all over his face. Nora’s surprised that she can hear it over the sound of her breath leaving her lungs from Willy’s comment. Sure, she knew that the last time they saw each other he was crying into her mother’s arms over a remark his father said, and sure, she didn’t expect them to resume their friendship as if nothing had happened.

But to blatantly lie about Nora’s mother, a woman who took care of him for years? Nora never thought that he would grow up to be so cruel. 

To twist the knife lodged into her chest even further, Alyssa and the twins approach the group with annoyed looks, all aimed in Nora’s direction. They seem to have overheard Willy’s previous comment, and before Nora can even defend herself, Alyssa reaches out and wraps her hand around Harry’s forearm as if she were claiming him in front of everybody.

“Yeah, apparently Townbridge is letting just about anybody in this year. Just ignore her, Harry, we all have been,” she says, her tone nothing but dismissive. 

Nora watches as Harry shifts his gaze from Alyssa to her. His green eyes fall down her body, and for the first time, he notices the loose thread at the hemline of her dress from overwear, the tear in her socks behind the knee, her brown boots that lack the distinction of a designer label. With one last look at her, he takes a step back, and Nora knows right then and there that she’s been condemned as an outsider. 

“C’mon Harry, tell us all about the rest of your summer in France! I want to hear all about it,” Alyssa enthuses, and without a second look, the group turns around and leaves Nora staring after them.

No matter how attractive she finds Harry, there’s no denying that his personality is undeniably ugly. And as she watches him wrap an arm around Alyssa’s shoulder, Nora thinks it’s quite fitting that they’ve both found each other.  

***

November 2007

Summer has always been Nora’s favorite season (living permanently near the ocean sort of makes that inevitable), but that summer after her first year, Nora’s never been more excited to be home. She missed her mom, she missed the beach, and she missed her normal friends who didn’t care that she wore sandals that were falling apart and shorts that were fraying at the edges.

When Nora came back from school, she begged her mother not to send her back to Townbridge for her second year. She told her how she couldn’t make friends, how everybody made her feel like a social pariah, and how she was absolutely miserable being so far away from her. 

“Oh, Nora baby,” her mother said, holding her close. “You know exactly who you are. You’re strong, you’re beautiful, you’re intelligent—and you’re so much better than those kids who make you feel like you aren’t.”

“You don’t understand, mom,” Nora said through hiccups, wet tears soaking her cheeks, “They hate me. All of them. They never even gave me a chance.”

“Everybody?” her mother asked. And when Nora just stared at her with her lower lip trembling, Shannon combed her fingers through Nora’s blonde hair comfortingly. “I’m sure there are people at Townbridge who are just like you. I just don’t think you’ve tried to find them yet.”

Even though she didn’t want to admit it, Nora knew that her mother was right. So after another summer filled with scooping ice cream for tips and spending every second of her days off at the beach reading romance novel after romance novel, Nora packed up her things for the second time—this time with another suitcase—and set off for Connecticut with higher hopes for her second year.

Things seemed to be turning around for her when she discovered that her roommate was no longer Alyssa Whalen. Instead, it was a girl named Lydia who lived a few towns over in Madison by the beach, just like Nora. They bonded instantly over their shared love of having sea-knotted hair and the feeling of having sand squished between your toes and letting your fingers wrinkle from wading through the briny water for too long. And when Lydia encourages Nora to sign up for the swim team with her, Nora’s grateful that she’s finally found a friend in this hellhole. 

Her second year is leagues better than her first, considering in the first three months, she barely had to cross paths with Alyssa and Harry. On the rare instances that they do run into each other, they simply ignore the other’s existence, and Nora doesn’t mind it one bit. It’s just easier that way, she supposes.

Halfway through Nora’s swim season, she turns sixteen and discovers that everybody around her is getting their license. Lydia’s parents bought her a used 2005 Honda Civic when she passed her driver’s test, and when she told Nora that she could use it whenever she needed, Nora felt bad lying to her new friend. Because once again she was playing catch up, getting her learner’s permit over the summer when everybody was already scheduling their exam, and with the way things were going, Nora wouldn’t be able to get her license until she was home again for summer break.

She also didn’t want to admit to Lydia that she couldn’t afford a car, and that her mother would never allow Nora to take her 1997 Toyota Corolla to campus. 

After swim practice one November afternoon, Nora leaves the Athletic Center with wet hair to head back to her dorm in Donahue Hall completely across campus. Normally, Nora walks with Lydia, but since it’s Friday and students who live in-state with a license are allowed to leave campus for the weekend, Nora’s forced to make the twenty-minute journey alone. 

With her gym bag slung over her shoulder, Nora begins to walk through the parking lot to head towards the footpath that will bring her through campus. The sky is awfully dark for four in the afternoon, and when she looks up and notices the menacing grey clouds, she kicks herself for not packing her umbrella before she left her room this morning.

Just as she’s almost in the clear, she hears a familiar giggle that makes her skin crawl. Living with Alyssa for one excruciating year has allowed Nora to recognize that sound almost immediately, and sheepishly she tucks her chin deeper into the neckline of her jacket, praying that her face is hidden as she walks past the group. 

When Nora reaches inside her half-zipped gym bag for her water bottle, she swears to herself when the strap detaches from the siding and the nylon bag falls to the cement. Making sure everything is strapped appropriately, she heaves the bag over her shoulder once it’s zipped up. As she swings her elbow to place the bag comfortably around her body, she doesn’t take into account her proximity to a particularly shiny black SUV—and just before she can escape the parking lot undetected, her bag smashes against the hood of the car, causing the headlights to flicker on and off and the alarm to blare piercingly through the space. 

“Hey!” Nora hears from behind her. When she turns she sees Harry jogging towards her, his brown hair dripping from the shower he just took. He’s wearing joggers and a Townbridge Academy Soccer sweatshirt, and when he reaches inside his pocket and reveals a shiny key fob, Nora swears for the second time knowing that the fancy car she just accidentally hit belonged to him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” His voice is booming through the parking lot and it’s enough to make Nora feel incredibly small. When he finally presses the alarm button on his key and the blaring stops, she can hear his exasperated breaths in its place, and she’s not quite sure what’s worse.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“—I saw the whole thing, Harry!” Alyssa calls over from her spot across the cement, walking towards the pair of them with an accusatory finger extended in Nora’s direction. “She slammed her gym bag against your car.”

“It was an accident!” Nora screeches, feeling her face turning red. “My bag strap fell off and when I went to put it back on my shoulder, I bumped your car. Not, er, intentionally.”

Harry looks between the two girls with an annoyed expression on his face. “Just be more careful, yeah? It’s brand new.”

When Nora looks at the behemoth of a vehicle to her left, observing the shiny black exterior with the words Range Rover written across the front in chrome lettering, she can only imagine the outrageous price tag it has. Which is why she nods, apologizing one last time.

“Won’t happen again.” Nora begins to turn around on her heel, just as the air begins to get cooler and the slightest smell of rain can be detected in the distance.

“You’re walking all the way to Donahue in the rain?” Harry asks suddenly, and Nora begins to wonder how he even knows she lives in that building. She pauses, thinking if he or Alyssa or any one of their stupid friends lives in Donahue, and when she comes up with nothing, she turns around with a confused expression on her face.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t have a car.” Before she can feel the first drop of rain hit her skin, laughter erupts from the small group surrounding Harry and his car. Nora hides her face, wishing the ground would swallow her up. 

With one last gulp, Nora turns around and begins walking towards the footpath, shoving the hood of her flimsy rain jacket over her head. 

“Well, at least your hair is already wet!” Nora hears Alyssa call out from behind her, with more laughter following until Nora’s a safe distance away from where she can no longer be scrutinized by Harry and his rude friends.

As Nora reaches Donahue Hall with her tracksuit bottoms sticking to her legs like a second skin and her jacket completely drenched, all she can think about is how she’d rather walk another ten miles before ever having another conversation with Alyssa Whalen and Harry Styles if her life fucking depended on it.

***

A/N: Here’s chapter two! We’ve finally met Harry and Alyssa (yikes), so feel free to share with me your thoughts and predictions for the next part! High school is a funny time period to write about, and I’m excited to share the next part with you all. Look out for it on Friday, February 19th, which will be the normal update schedule. Until then, stay safe! x

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[thecaptainhelm]

Shut Your Mouth Pt.2

hahaha, daminette part two, wasn’t a one shot, gn gn gn.

Marinette sighed as the shower warmed up, rolling her neck and relishing in the light feeling of accomplishment. Ever since Hawkmoth had been defeated, a mere two days ago, things had been tense. Hawkmoth, now known as Gabriel Agreste, was arrested along with his assistant Nathalie Sancoeur who had since retired as Mayura the year before. It was a stroke of luck to discover that the Guardian had the ability to forcibly renounce a broken Miraculous. Something Gabriel hadn’t known, granting them extra time as he futilely tried to ‘fix’ the brooch. While that happened, she managed to finally convince Chat to at least keep him as a suspect if not out of suspicion, then to actually strike him from their list. It didn’t take long rack up evidence against him, especially after learning from the Bats of Gotham. 

The battle was quiet, in the early hours of the morning, where the city forcibly cut the power to the Agreste mansion, and it only took one Venom for each while they slept defenselessly. It took only a few minutes to find evidence that he was at least working with Hawkmoth, and when they found the miraculous pin and brooch, it was confirmed that he was, indeed, Hawkmoth with Nathalie working as his henchwoman Mayura.

Soon, with what was probably the fastest trial of the century, Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur were declared guilty and sentenced to serve life in prison and an insane asylum respectively. It had only shocked her for a moment that Mayura pleaded guilty and asked to be sent directly to rehab for mental help, by reason of insanity wrought by grief. What did surprise her was that she was the one to take the miraculous and give them to the Agreste couple as an anniversary gift, ultimately setting off a chain of unforeseen consequences.

That was a whole other cake she didn’t want to bake just yet, so she decided to finally just take a moment to breathe for what felt like the first time in five years. 

So it was only normal that her smartwatch chimed on the hook of the shower caddy, a picture of a frowny eagle glaring right at her. She cursed her luck, yeah, no breaks was still her usual routine. It must be real hard for the universe to break out that particular habit.

Then she remembered that she set this particular picture and ringtone for the one person who had never called.

Robin, the vigilante that she might have, kind of, definitely made an enemy of.

Who was also her crush, so that was just. Great.

In her defense, she was a human being, and human beings were capable of amazing feats. It was just that her amazing feats were more amazing bouts of stupidity. Seriously, why did she do it? Just where did her common sense escape to make her think that was even a remotely good idea, because she wanted to go there and never come back.

She had kissed-- no! She made out with Robin, the most notoriously ill-tempered member of Batman’s team. The only reason he didn’t deck her in the face was because, because, well she didn’t know! Was it mercy, a misplaced feeling of pity, perhaps?

No, actually, it was more likely that he was frozen stiff with rage. Marinette couldn’t blame him, heck, she’d be angry too, suddenly getting passionately smooched in the middle of livid rant. 

She had planned on giving him her contact information for the longest time, since they'd come to the understanding that they only wanted to do what was best for everyone, the kind of understanding that only leaders could have. And to maybe get closer to him as much as professionalism allowed. So, it stood to reason that she had to go ahead and ruin that, too. She really couldn’t believe herself sometimes, who randomly kisses someone, hands them their number, and then trots off back to work? Marinette Dupain-Cheng apparently.

In fact, it was about time he called. She had pretty much an entire year to prepare herself for what was sure to be a concise and frigid rejection, maybe even a “Stay for away from, lest I stab everyone in this room and then jump out of a window out of utter disgust”? She might as well get it over with and then move on to be alone for the rest of her life.

She wiped the water out of her eyes and squinted at the text message, before jumping out the shower with a loud curse. She hurriedly dried off and put on her clothes, before heading to the Miracle Box, rereading his message.

Emergency evac, one person, requesting Pegasus’ portal twenty kilometers horizontally above sea level precisely fifteen minutes after this message. Coordinates attached.

The message was sent ten minutes ago. How long was she catastrophizing for?!

Max was partying along with the rest of Paris while she took a breather in her art studio. Even with the full fifteen minutes she wouldn’t be able to find him in time. Shit, would she even be able to transform in time?

She grabbed the glasses from the box and Kaalki appeared in a proud flash. 

“No time, there’s trouble,” she panted. “Ready?”

“Hmph, of course,” Kaalki tossed her head. “Let’s go, shall we?”

“Kaalki, transform me!” She eyed the time, two minutes left. She memorized the coordinates as she searched for a suitable place for him to land, and realized she was going to have to catch him in her storage closet.

One minute left. She opened the door and cleared space in the center of the room.

Thirty-five seconds. She stood on an old chair that she moved into the center of the room.

Twenty seconds, and she called, “Voyage!” and threw the portal up towards the ceiling.

Zero. She braced for impact and caught a body that plummeted through in a free fall.

“Ow,” she closed the portal with a groan, amidst the shattered pieces of what used to be a pretty sturdy chair.

“Don’t complain, it could have been worse.” A deep voice rasped.

Wow, to think she missed him, that asshole.

“Shut up, Robi-- oh my god your arm! Get up, getupgetupgetup!” She hauled him up as gently as possible, annoyance giving way to concern.

Robin was, putting it lightly, a mess. He had lost his mask, his eye was swollen shut and his face was bruised with cuts all over, and he was sticky with blood practically everywhere she looked. It was his arm that she was most concerned about, however. It was set in a splint, but he must have been in a rush because it was set wrong, his thumb facing perpendicular lyaway from his body.

“I am fine,” he sagged into her, weary. “I just need a place to stay for the night.”

“If you weren’t so grievously injured, I’d throw you out for that,” she remarked. “But guess what? It’s your lucky night monsieur, and I’m a trained field medic.” Robin looked at her, maskless, and she had to dart her eyes away from his maskless face.

“Oh, so Ladybug finally started replacing her subpar lineup? About time, either she benched them or Hawkmoth would kill them at some point. They were woefully incompent.” Yep, this was definitely Robin, no doubt about it with that attitude.

She called off the transformation and was somewhat pleased when he reflexively jerked his head away. She pulled him into a princess carry and made her way back to the bathroom, inwardly delighting at his reaction. She would never let him live this down.

“It’s me, Robin. Ladybug. Pegasus couldn’t make it, so you’ll have to do with me instead of a random stand-in.” She raised her brow, not that he could see it.

“Unless that bothers you, Boy Wonder?”

“...I’m not,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“I’m not Robin anymore.”

What. What.

“What?”

“I’ve retired, effective as of nine months ago today, Robin’s cape has been hung up for the next generation.”

Relief didn’t come yet. “Oh, so you’ve taken on a new mantle? Or are you finally the next Batman, though it would take some time to fill those shoulders. Literally, I mean that literally, um.” She observed his downcast expression and once again started walking to the bathroom. When had she stopped?

“I’m not taking over anything,” he said sullenly. “I can’t. Not after what I did.”

“Come on, it couldn’t have been so bad,” she opened the door with her heel as she backed them towards the stool by the sink. She set him down carefully, taking full stock of his injuries.

“It was. Batman’s cowl has always represented a strict moral code, one that I’ve always...struggled to adhere to.”

Marinette bit her lip as she kneeled in front of him. He didn’t say anymore, and she couldn’t think of anything to say. She sighed and brought out her med kit from the towel cabinet. She was always like this with him.

With Robin (now not Robin?) she had always drawn a blank. She could read his emotions somewhat well, had a good grasp on his moods, and could have genuinely insightful conversations with him. It was only at crucial moments like this that she struggled. Even with Adrien she had always known what she wanted to say, but Robin was different. Everything about him screamed “one chance only” and that caused her mind to go blank. It was so unbelievably frustrating that she could scream.

Marinette handed the glasses to Kaalki and nodded towards her purse hanging on the door handle. The kwami zoomed towards it and soon disappeared into it with the miraculous.

“Robin,” she called gently. He didn’t move. “I’ll have to cut your shirt off, okay? I need to see where the blood is coming from.”

“It’s not mine.The blood.” He kept his gaze away as she froze.

“Well, we’ll have to reset that arm,” she tried again. “It’s not...it’s not looking good, to say the least.”

He looked towards his mangled right arm and nodded. 

It took some time to undo the splint and she tried not to think about where he had been for him to only have rotted wood and prison rags on hand. She cut his shirt off at the sleeve and down his middle, pulling it off and exposing a painful canvas of mottled bruises, scrapes, and cuts. She handed him her towel and he stuffed it in his mouth without a word. She gently untied the splint.

“Are you ready?” She gazed at him resolutely. He nodded and braced himself as best he could.

“On my count, one, two--” She re-broke his arm a count early on purpose.

“Arrghh! Ffuk!!” He jerked out of her grip.

“Hold still!” He spat out the towel and glared in response.

“Mizq dhiraei allaeaynat 'aw aidbitha!!!” She only understood ‘rip’ and ‘arm’ but she got the gist of his screaming.

“Alright it’s done now, I’m setting it, so stop moving,” She couldn’t help but sigh under his vicious scowl.

“Tsk. Be grateful that I can barely discern your features Ladybug. You’re on my shit list and I don’t feel like kicking your ass today.”

“Wow, thanks for saving me Ladybug, I could have died if it weren’t for you!” Marinette couldn’t help but snark at him.

“...tsk!” Yep, that was as good as she was going to get in his condition.

After years of fighting akuma victims she was able to observe the complex and hidden emotions of her opponents and the civilians that she rescued. And right now, her experience was telling her that Robin had more than his pride ruined. His self-confident, courageous, and taciturn nature seemed to be regressing as he fell back into what was probably a self-defense mechanism. For him to be like this instead of exhausted in his current state told her that he must have been through a lot since she last saw him.

She started to gently clean the blood off and noted the bruises underneath definitely came from an intense melee battle. Most of them were in places that made her cringe just looking at them. At least he doesn’t have any other broken bones, or stab wounds. Lucky him.

Robin put an ice pack to his face in the meanwhile and wouldn’t look in her direction.

It was quiet for a while. “So, what should I call you, then?” And she had to open her big fat mouth, didn’t she? Now it was awkward. It was awkward, and he hated her, and she was never speaking again, ever.

“Damian.” Uh oh.That didn’t sound like a moniker.

“Um, nice code name?” She started disinfecting his cuts and scrapes, trying not to panic.

“I no longer require such aliases.” Ok, process that later, heal Robin now. Process. Later.

“Ro--, Damian, uh, well,” She sighed.  “My offer still stands, you know?”

He made a quiet noise. 

“Last time I saw you, I mean. I had left in a rush,”-- after kissing you senseless-- “but I’m always here to listen if you want to talk about what happened.”

Robin, or Damian now, she still wasn’t used to that, froze. His brows furrowed and he strangely went red in the face, before sighing, slumping against the sink.

“I...the blood’s not mine. It hasn’t been my for a long time, but it might as well be for how long I’ve carried it. I’m not a good person so much as to blame myself completely, but I do recognize some of the fault as mine. I’d gotten help, and I was making progress, but it wasn’t enough. I started falling back into old habits and I hated it. I tried and I failed, and I kept trying and failing for months and I…” He gained a look of despair, the first real emotion she’s seen on him since he dropped in.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. I just kept disappointing everyone and I hated it so much,” he dug his fingers into his matted hair.

“So, I left. I decided to go on a journey to try and repent, and it was working, at least I thought it did. But, then I had stumbled upon a Shadows base and I…” He peered unseeing at the floor.

“It was like I lost all sense of reason. I lay siege to the entire facility and found my way to the next base. It all turned into an endless cycle, all the way until I reached headquarters and inadvertently met up with high ranking members of the Justice League, teaming up to diminish their power. We were successful, but a candidate for the position of the Demon’s Head activated the self-destruct module. Everyone was scrambling to get out and suddenly my mind felt clearer than it had ever been.” He took  a deep breath and Marinette moved closer to offer some comfort. He leaned towards her gratefully.

“The Justice League had already had an escape route, but the Shadows were in disarray for some reason. After I was sure my old comrades were out, I locked all the doors, and dived down to a ceremonial bathing chamber.”

“And that’s where I came in,” she whispered. I think I’m starting to like him more than I should. What is wrong with me?! Who made me this way?! She had some complaints in regards to that.

“You saved my life,” he inclined his head in an informal bow. “Thank you, Ladybug.”

“...Marinette.” She croaked suddenly. She was left reeling from his info dump and her intense, romantic feelings. So, why not go for a confession? 

Damian whipped his head up in disbelief.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Enchanté, Damian.” She smiled at his bewildered state, wiping away a bit of blood under his chin. She opened her mouth to say more, but didn’t get the chance.

Damian leapt up, furious. “You fool! I knew you were a space cadet, but I didn’t think your brain drifted beyond the stars! How utterly moronic!”

“Wait, why are you so mad?!” She panicked. She kind of had a spur of the moment idea to kiss him on his split lip, but that was looking less and less likely to happen.

(Damn it.)

“You told me your name!” he shouted.

“Yes, and you told me your’s?” She retorted. 

“Have you forgotten Hawkmoth?! Your enemy that can read the minds of the emotionally disturbed should he decide to possess them!” He started to hobble out of the bathroom, still half-treated and mostly in pain.

Oh. 

Oh!

“I have to leave, now! If I can stay calm long enough to reach the trains then I’ll be moving too fast for a butterfly to suddenly get me.”

“Uh, Damian?”

“No, it might already be enroute to someone else and might even already be on board,” He winced and stumbled on the tassel rug in the hallway.

“Woah, hang on a second Damian,” she grabbed him before he could fall, but he pulled out of her grip.

“We don’t have time for this, I can guarantee that I would be one of the worst akumas you’ve faced in your hero career, nevermind the insider information I hold within my mind.”

“Yes, but listen to me,” Damian moved towards the small sitting area, not listening to her. 

Again.

“This safehouse should be around one hundred kilometers from the city limits, you’re safe for now, but Hawkmoth’s estimated rate of growth was--”

That’s it!

Marinette grabbed his jaw and slammed it closed. She had had enough.

“This isn’t a safehouse, we’re in my art studio,” she snapped. She could see the rage begin to build to new heights in his eye.

“No, shut your mouth, and listen!” A vein in his forehead started to pulse, but he didn't move to speak.

Good.

“Hawkmoth has been defeated as of last week, and the trial was concluded a couple days ago. Going by what you told me, you've been out the loop for almost a year, so you don’t know that my team and I had closed in on Hawkmoth’s trail some time ago and were able to build a solid case that’ll go through in a court of law,” She carefully let him go.

“So, you’re safe, I’m safe, and Paris is safe too.” She’d already started to calm down in the middle of her explanation, and idly noted that she should probably take an anger management class.

And sign up for therapy. Lots of it, preferably.

Damian nodded slowly as he rubbed his jaw and she couldn’t help her wince.

“Sorry, did I handle you too roughly? Come here,” she started to pull him back towards the bathroom. He resisted.

“No, it’s fine, no damage just from that much force,” he tugged his arm away but she quickly moved behind him and began to push him through the bathroom door.

“Well, I’m not done treating you, so get back in there.” He grabbed the door frame and pushed back, and her calm demeanor left as quick as it came. Was it even truly there to begin with?

“I said,” she picked him up and threw him back on the stool where he grasped for stability.

“Come here.” She leaned in close to his bruised face, and wow, the one eye that she could see was so very, very green. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

“...okay,” he whispered. He kept his head down.

It didn’t take long to finish disinfecting the rest of his wounds, and soon she started applying ointment to the worst of his bruises. She had enough, but she was definitely going to be restocking in order to play his nursemaid for the next week or so. She rose to her feet and started packing away her kit.

“I’ll give you some pain meds for the night, I’ll leave you to take care of the injuries under the rest of your clothes. Come find me in the kitchenette. I’ll make something for us, though it won’t be anything fancy.”

“That is fine.” Marinette frowned at the strange husk in his voice. Did someone try to suffocate him? Why hadn’t she noticed until now?

She kneeled beside him and reached around him for the water bottle she had left in there earlier, but noticed him twitch and start to blush. Did he get a fever too?

She observed his red face and clear, but dilated eyes. Merde, did she embarrass him from earlier? She knew he had a large ego, but it was his own fault for being stubborn.

“Here, get yourself some water from the sink,” she handed the glittery black bottle to him and hurriedly strode out of the bathroom, calling,

“Holler if you need me!” 

Completely aware of the flustered state she left Damian in. Though not for the reason she thinks, at least.

[reiven2017]

Delicate steel.

Summary:

Rachel wanted to go home. She just wanted to get home. The only thing that held her back were the two huge wolves outside the door, the iron lock, and the fucking fate that had clearly decided to laugh at her. As it was, everything was fine...Oh, right! She's also getting married soon. But I have no idea for whom yet.

Notes:

In general...I decided to finally finish this chapter, because what I published earlier was just a draft and it happened that I deleted the work. Ahem, ahem.

Chapter 1: 1

Chapter Text"I don't know, damn it," Damian snarled back, his lips pinched into a thin line. His patience was running dangerously red, and his annoying family never stopped asking him questions, and Damian didn't know how close he was to killing each of them. "What do you mean, you don't know, Damian?" Your eighteenth birthday is coming soon! "I'm aware of that. Damian said dryly, turning to the window and trying to ignore the circle of people gathered around him. Sometimes, in his head, he would quietly start hating them all. The boy heard his sister snort at his answer, and before she could open her mouth to say something even more irritating and irritate him, his father intervened. "Damian." Bruce called coldly — " Stephanie's right. The day of the Blood Moon is approaching, and whether you want it or not, you must find a mate. It's a tradition." — Steph smirked like the Cheshire cat. "Come on, Dad. Maybe our little Alpha likes to go to "girls". " - Damian gritted his teeth and said nothing at Jason's snide remark, hoping that if he continues to ignore them, then maybe everything will be fine?The alpha genes were already boiling in him, the wolf was growling in frustration, and Damian was ready to howl in helplessness. He hated family advice, but when it came to his marriage and finding a true mate, it didn't seem so bad to hang himself and rot in a barn somewhere. Maybe now from the outside he looked like a "little capricious Alpha" with his behavior and an offended frown, but if such a strategy would bring him the desired silence, Damian was ready to play along. Despite the fact that he was the future Alpha of the pack, the new leader, and should have been able to solve problems diplomatically, or be able to kick ass, now he would have been happy to be somewhere in the mountains. Or on another planet. He could have left at any moment, ignoring the drama of Stef and the grinning Jason, if not for the glaring eyes of his father and mother. Damian knew he was being stupid. But he did not know the answer to the question that had been nagging at him for about a year. And every day it annoyed him more and more.From the very first day of his birth, Damian was different from the other wolves. Even in the cradle, he was different. The guy turned early to become a wolf, too early for any measurements, and after the Alpha blood in him awoke with extraordinary speed and as it turned out, he is the new Alpha, which further complicated the situation since he was the youngest son and theoretically could not inherit the Alpha genes. But no, it did happen. Everyone expected that his older brother Richard, kind, cheerful and resourceful, able to talk or at least tolerate people, and most importantly already having a couple, would take the place of the leader and everyone would be happy to the point of screeching bones. How wrong they all were, and how no one expected the Alpha genes to wake up in their youngest son, the rude, silent, and insufferable Damian, known as the walking mess and without a true mate at 17. Many people only laughed when they heard that the Alpha Force appeared in the younger heirs, but when they met with Damian, not a single question remained. He was young, but the Alpha genes had awakened in him with the strength and power of a mature wolf, which gave him even more advantages in the piggy bank of oddities. His relatives got married almost from the first day of birth, his sister was already engaged, his friends were already engaged and even some children in the sandbox already wore special marks saying that they have a couple! And Damian... Damian was broken. Broken almost from the very first day of life. The day of his coming of age was approaching, and the council and the entire pack were now on edge, watching his every move and not losing the chance to slip him a wolf at every opportunity in the hope of finding the one that made him even more exasperated. During this week, he had seen so many women's faces that they were all mixed up in one mess, and he didn't even remember their names. His position in the

pack is already pretty shaky, and if he doesn't find a mate before his birthday, Damian may not be the leader. < i>Worst of all, he won't last long without a pair. "Well, look at him! He's not even listening to us!" — Stephanie fell silent again, seeking support from her father. Of course, her position doesn't weigh in the balance, and the whole pack doesn't sit on her neck and fall asleep with eternal questions that he doesn't know the answers to. Bruce sighed heavily, casting a pleading glance at his wife. He knew that it wasn't easy for his son to come to terms with his new Alpha status and his new status in the pack. Despite all the responsibilities Damian had to deal with, he was pretty good at it, but the question of his true mate was always going to be a hell of a lot harder. Talia gave him a quiet smile, putting her hand on his shoulder. "But if brother can't find a mate on his own, then we have to help him! Damian chuckled softly. If only it were that simple, but only the Gods themselves could help him. - "Dad! I know who is perfect for the role of the Moon! Christy! She is younger than my brother, but she is a beautiful and strong wolf. Christy will fit perfectly into our family! " - Steph screamed again to her father. But then Damian's patience reached the end, driving the Alpha genes in his blood, and his wolf growled inwardly at his sister. Damian didn't like that part of himself, but he was grateful for the Alpha Force now, as Stephanie immediately fell silent. "That's enough," he said, as his sister jerked behind her father, hiding her eyes in shame. "Just because she's your friend doesn't mean she's my mate, Steph. His voice, menacing and guttural, turning into a growl, echoed off the walls of the mansion, causing Steph to shudder slightly and hunch over, hiding behind her father. His emerald eyes, a little silvery, swept around the room, and when they met his mother's distressed gaze and his father's frown, he frowned sternly. Maybe tomorrow he will regret his lack of restraint, but right now the only thing he wants is to get as far away from them as possible, so as not to see himself as a leper.***Perhaps if the town of Date, in northern Switzerland, could be described in three sentences Raven would have said " Forest. A large forest. The devils of the big forest. " and it would be clear to everyone what kind of place this is. It wasn't that she was against nature, but she had lived most of her life in gray and gloomy New York, so the forest was her first shock when she moved. Her mother recently remarried after a failed marriage with Raven's father and an accident with her sister, and now they are all together, the whole friendly family decided to change their place of residence. As if they don't have enough problems. Rachel didn't listen much to her mother's speech in the front seat, plugging her ears with headphones, knowing that she was talking more for her stepfather. Ben wasn't a bad person. He joked stupidly, smiled affably and believed in a happy life, dreaming, according to him, of a large family. He didn't touch Rachel, and he didn't bother her with father-daughter chatter, so he was the best option for her and her mother, Angela. To be honest, he never bothered Rachel at all.When Ben expressed a desire to move, to give in to a quiet life, Rae was not so against it. She didn't have any friends in New York, or anywhere else, so she was neutral about the idea of moving. So she ended up in Switzerland, in the back of an elderly pickup truck, in the middle of the woods and 7 miles from the city of Data. "Rachel!" — through the wall of music, the girl heard her mother's displeased voice and quietly rolled her eyes. - "Yes? Rachel replied tonelessly, still wearing her headphones, and turned to the window. She stiffened quietly. Maybe this way they'll know she's not in the mood to talk. "Could you please put the music down, young lady? I want to talk to you. "- "Well, of course to talk, and I thought we were going to drive the ball." barely restraining the sarcastic remark that was about to fly off

her tongue, Rachel still put the headphones in her bag and raised an eyebrow at Angela questioningly. "So? — " "There's a new school waiting for you, Rachel. New acquaintances". Angela's words flowed smoothly, and her sweet smile suggested doubts, and Rachel inwardly guessed that this conversation had been planned in advance. The girl chuckled to herself. "Ben and I are well aware of your difficulties in communication and all that concerns friendship, and we are immensely grateful to you for so easily agreeing to move, but if you have a problem again, like last time..." Rachel's eyes dimmed. Her heart stopped for a moment, silent for a second, and her nails dug painfully into the soft skin of her palm. The world seemed to stop, and my lungs were on fire. So that's what it was all about. Her lips parted in a venomous grin, and Rachel gritted her teeth. Rey saw a small flicker of pain cross Angela's face, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her face lost any hint of a smile, and with a curt nod to Rachel, the woman turned away. Rey exhaled heavily, holding her breath. She leaned back in her seat, pressing herself as close to the window as she could and crouching in a corner of the darkness, only now feeling the pain in her arms. She slowly opened her hand, coldly watching the tiny drops of blood gather on the skin that had been severely pierced by her own hand, and immediately closed her hands. She didn't have the energy to look at it again, and the only thing that distracted her was the huge sign with the big black letters "Date. A place where people become one with nature.»

[fanficflaneuse]

All Of You

Index 

A/N: After a couple of odd weeks, I’m back and I’m really happy to be posting again. Dear freaking god. I’m excited for you to read my first Theo fic ever. I’m really happy for it. 

Also, I saw a mutual celebrating their 100 followers and I realized I never did anything to celebrate my followers. I never expected my blog to have followers lol but now I have 196 and I want to dedicate this fic I love to all of you. Thank you all for bearing with me <3 

Without further ado, let’s do this! 

Theo Nott x reader 

Words: 2679 

Summary: Friends with benefits gone wrong. 

Warnings: mentions of sex (not smut, but still). 

The room exuded fire whiskey and regret as (Y/N) picked her clothes from the floor. The light that filtered through the closed curtains hinted a very sunny day, perfect for the throbbing headache coming her way. Her head pounded with flashbacks from the night before and every time she remembered another detail of the colossal mistake she had committed, she cursed herself.

She slumped on an elegant armchair and considered her options. She could leave unceremoniously and forget all about their encounter, pretend it was a drunken mistake. For a moment, she wished they would’ve had enough alcohol the night before to call this a “drunken mistake”. But they were both more sober than expected as they reached his room, lips connected and hands eager to explore each other.

(Y/N) cursed at herself once again as her gaze found the man on the bed. Theodore Nott looked peaceful as he slept, no trace of sadness clouding his angelic features. His chest raised and fell softly, an arm thrown over his forehead and the other one reaching out to the empty space in bed where she had woken up. Only Merlin knows how long she had fantasized about him, how many times she had wished to kiss his lips and feel him close. She could’ve been happy with everything that had happened the night before, if only that one memory didn’t keep replaying in her head:

Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed, she was on his lap. His lips made their way from her left shoulder to her ear.

“(Y/N),” he had whispered.

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat. “Whatever is about to happen right now…I-I really can’t do feelings.”

(Y/N) remembered asking herself what could she possibly do with that information. He was the guy she had been ogling at practically since day one at Hogwarts. Not even of four years of not seeing each other had killed whatever they had going on between them. But before she could even think, she sealed the deal.

“No feelings.”

The words slipped from her mouth like a hot knife through butter. If only they were half as easy to digest. She sighed and stood up, determined to leave before Theo woke up.

“Where are you going?” His voice was groggy and almost childlike. It melted (Y/N)’s heart and she turned around in shame.  

Theo and (Y/N) found each other at a bar the night before. It was the first time they met since Sixth year, when they were potions partners and tried desperately to brush each other’s hand as many times as possible. (Y/N) remembered how he’d blush every time they touched, how that blush gave her butterflies as she thought of him as delightfully awkward.

Then the war bulldozed into their lives. Theo dropped out of Hogwarts and stayed in his mansion, not wanting to partake in any of it. His father was a death eater, everyone knew that. And even if he didn’t fight the good fight, (Y/N) was relieved not to see him cross to the dark side like Draco did. She, on the other hand, stayed in the school and opposed Voldemort. They never saw each other again.

Three years later, (Y/N)’s need to escape a terribly dull blind date and Theo’s desire to drown his loneliness with music and fire whiskey had them sitting side by side again. (Y/N) and Theo could probably count the amount of times they had spoken to each other with one hand. And yet, she remembered him as her first Hogwarts friend and he thought of her as a very close one. There was always this energy surrounding them. It made (Y/N)’s head spin and Theo’s convoluted mind turn to putty.  

The kisses in the back of the bar didn’t come as a surprise to either of them. Neither did the question that lead them to his house. And the heavy petting, the intense make out, the fire whiskey consumed after the promise, the lips and hands lingering and traveling…they were all the natural course of something with no name or description that had started the first time they set foot on the Hogwarts express.

...

First years buzzed through the train in excitement. They talked over each other, got high on candy and agitation and walked from one compartment to the next in search of new people to befriend. The general enthusiasm of the first train ride infected even the most knowledgeable purebloods. All but one of them. A lonely first year by the name of Theodore Nott, too shy and self-conscious to engage with the other children, kept to himself in a carriage. He stared out the window, trying to mute the muffled laughter by taking in the scenery.

“Can I seat here? Every other compartment is full.”

Theo’s head snapped as he heard those words. They stared at each other for a minute. The newcomer, a girl who just a few minutes ago had echoed other kids’ laughter, found Theo striking. She liked the single brown curl falling on his forehead and his greenish-blue eyes that seemed to enclose too much sadness for eleven years of age. He looked like a melancholic cherub.

Too curious for her own good, (Y/N) wanted to know absolutely everything about this enigmatic boy that didn’t seem unfazed by the perspective of travelling to a magical school.

He nodded eagerly, prompting more curls to cover his face. She giggled softly as she made her way to the seat in front of him. Theo found her very pretty. He was suddenly very aware of how lame he must’ve seemed. Theo gulped, racking his brain for something to say and finding absolutely nothing. He hadn’t interacted with many kids his age and, to his absolute mortification, it showed.

“I am (Y/N). What is your name?” she asked sweetly.

“Theo,” he muttered so softly she couldn’t quite catch it.

They spent the rest of the train ride in silence. (Y/N) was a bit appalled. She thought about leaving in search of some more boisterous company to share her thrill with. She couldn’t, though. The stillness that engulfed them was enticing. It was certainly awkward, but also comfortable and even safe. It was as though they had built a sense of complicity in a matter of minutes. They sneaked glances at each other until the Hogwarts express reached its destination.

Only during the sorting did (Y/N) recognize her companion as Theodore Nott, a Slytherin and her first Hogwarts friend.

If someone had ever told her that years later she’d be wearing his button-down and nothing else as they giggled on his bed, she probably wouldn’t have understood what they meant. But here she was. A few months into their affair they had fallen into an easy routine. There were no rules and no particular agreements, but they both knew what they were and how people labelled what they had.

Friends with benefits weren’t meant to cuddle with each other after sex. They weren’t meant to be so tender and spend hours talking nonsense and caressing each other. They weren’t meant to have each other for dinner at least once a week or be seen together. And, more importantly, they weren’t meant to fall for each other.

(Y/N) wondered how long this would last as they laid on their sides, staring at each other. Not a sound came from their lips. He was giving her a sweet lopsided grin. The stillness that engulfed them was, once again, enticing. It was not awkward, but still felt comfortable and safe. They are accomplices now. 

...

The Yule Ball was the most awaited event of fourth year. It was the night everyone would talk about for ages. (Y/N) arrived late and left early, as one does. She didn’t particularly enjoy the petty drama her friends were involved in, so she decided to leave the Great Hall in favour of some fresh air.

As she stepped on the courtyard, she expected anything but finding Theo Nott sitting on a bench. She approached without giving it much thought.

“Mind if I sit with you? Every other place is already taken,” she said humorously.

Theo smiled and made space for her. They sat in silence for a while, the complicity from the train somehow still intact. After a while of silence, he gathered all his courage and stood up. (Y/N) had a view of his very expensive looking suit, his hair with its usual curl covering his forehead, his eyes shining dangerously with something else than the usual melancholy.

“Would you dance with me, (Y/N)?” he asked, his voice showing a confidence he didn’t know he had.

(Y/N) was surprised he even knew her name. She stood up as well, flattered and also a bit embarrassed. “Shall we go back inside?”

He shook his head, the impish grin matching that glint in his eyes. “I never said anything about going back inside.”

(Y/N)’s knees buckled as he pulled her to his chest. They danced in the courtyard to the muffled sounds that came from the Great Hall. (Y/N) prided herself in being a decent dancer, but Theo was something else. He twirled her, guided her and taught her with great care. Mesmerized, she held onto him until there was no more music left and he insisted on walking her to her common room.

They walked side by side, his fingers barely touching the small of her back. They were, once again, enveloped in peaceful quietness, only interrupted by the clacking of her heels.

“Where did you learn to dance the mazurka?” she wondered aloud.

(Y/N) noticed how he puffed his chest. She could hear the smile in his voice when he said that his mum had taught him.

“She must be quite the dancer,” (Y/N) complemented, only to see the smile fading immediately.

“She was,” he whispered very softly, eyes fixed in some distant point in the horizon.

(Y/N) wanted to say something else, but nothing seemed appropriate. As they reached the common room, kissed the back of her hand before leaving to his dorm.

“What are you thinking about?” Theo murmured in her ear. She was sitting between his legs, her white sheets pooling around them. Before she could answer, he gently brushed her hair off her shoulder and placed kisses on the sensitive spot behind her ear.

She bit her lip to restrain a moan. This man had learned how to get a reaction from her. He now knew how to get her all worked up in a matter of seconds. She was not complaining one bit.

“I’m just remembering the Yule Ball,” she offered offhandedly.

He hummed pleasantly in response. “You know? Everyone made a fuss about how Hermione Granger looked like a princess that night. But you, darling, you looked like a queen.”

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She cursed every deity in the book because damn, Theodore Nott could be suave if he wanted to. (Y/N) smiled contently as he pulled her back to bed.

...

“So, Theodore,” said Pansy with mocking seriousness. He knew what was coming and was prepared to shrug it off. “When will you introduce us to your girlfriend?”

Blaise chuckled and Draco raised his eyebrows playfully. Theo wanted to roll his eyes playfully, but knew he would never pull it off, especially not after the last few months with (Y/N). He nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“She…she’s not my girlfriend,” he stammered.

“Oh! But there’s a she,” Blaise pointed out.

Theo looked away, wanting to facepalm himself hard. He hadn’t realized they were that obvious. But they were. And for some reason he didn’t care one bit. He just didn’t know how to be a boyfriend and didn’t want to hurt her (or himself…even further).

“What is it then? Are you just shagging?” Daphne said the word as though it burned her mouth.

“You know Daph, friends with benefits. All the advantages and none of the drama,” said Pansy as she put an arm around the blonde, “we should’ve tried that instead.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “As if you didn’t love to be my girlfriend, Pansy Marguerite Parkinson.”

Pansy smiled widely and kissed her girlfriend. Draco pretended to gag.

“Keep pretending that you’re not the biggest sap on the planet, Draco Lucius Malfoy,” teased Blaise.

Theo would’ve laughed at his friends’ antics, if only (Y/N) hadn’t come in to the bar. She was wearing that green dress she knew he adored. Her hair was up and she was wearing more make up than usual. She looked absolutely stunning.

As she took a seat at a nearby table, Theo remembered all those times he sneaked glances at her during their days at Hogwarts. She’d seat across the room, surrounded by people and laughing. And he’d admire her from afar, never daring to talk to her and only dedicating her soft smiles whenever they met in the hallways.

His friends seemed to realize the reason for his abstraction and they all eyed her curiously. (Y/N) suddenly stood up to greet somebody. Theo was taken aback when she hugged one of the Weasley twins, who took her in way too eagerly for his liking and kissed her cheek way too close to her lips. Theo had never considered himself a jealous person. Hell, he seldom showed emotions. But this he absolutely hated and didn’t bother do hide it.

The group of former Slytherins stared in awe as their friend slammed his fist on the table. He muttered a quick “sorry” and left the bar without saying goodbye.

...

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the surprise and hurt from his voice or demeanour. Theo noticed how she had kept a safe distance between them, preferring to seat on an armchair rather than the by his side on the couch.

“Theo…” she tried to reason.

(Y/N) broke the most basic rule of a situation like theirs. She had completely fallen for him. She knew she was into him since the very first time she had woken up in his bed, but for a while she at least pretended she could enjoy it without getting hurt. Then, the casual hook ups turned into cuddle sessions and those turned into dates. Still, her stubbornness made her continue with the affair. She convinced herself she could live with it.

That was until Theo opened his heart to her. He realized he had found someone he could truly be vulnerable with and he let her into his heart. He told her about his childhood, about how he had seen his father assassinate his mother and the sadness that had never abandoned him afterwards. He told her he was never afraid of dementors because he felt he was always walking with one over his shoulder. They had cried together that night and she decided her heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked in defeat. He mentally kicked himself for being too much and not enough.

“Of course not. It’s not that Theo,” she mended quickly.

“Then what?”

(Y/N)  took a deep breath. “I miss you when I wake up alone. I love cuddling and coddling you. I want you. All of you, Theo. I don’t just want to be your occasional hook up. I can’t do that anymore.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. Theo studied her for a minute, his intense gaze making her self-conscious.

“Don’t you realize I gravitate towards your company like you’re the only other person in the planet, (Y/N)?” he asked, suddenly feeling very dramatic.  

She was frozen in her place. His face softened completely and lunged forward, kneeling in front of her and taking her face in his hands.

“Love,” he whispered, “this stopped being an occasional hook up a long time ago.”

She smiled at him sweetly. “Really?”

He nodded, his messy curls falling to his forehead just like he knew she liked it. “And…and I also want you. All of you,” he said triumphantly.

tags: @honeymarvel @rvnsclws @naomi02hook @the-hufflefluffwriter

[thatoneaspie]

“It’s Been a Long, Long Time”

An Avengers: Endgame AU

By thatoneaspie

| Synopsis: A change in the events of Endgame impact Vision’s fate and alter his most iconic line in the MCU. TW: Pregnancy, death, PTSD, graphic/ traumatic birth scene. |

————————————————————————

Pepper’s mouth drops open. “How the hell did you pull that off?”

“Look, I created a new element to keep myself alive. Pretty easy to recreate anything after that - even the mind stone.”

“And he has all his memories?”

“Yes. All of them. I’ve already told you this.” Tony says in a hushed whisper.

“Tony. You have to tell her.”

“I can’t. It’ll send her into early labor.”

“Well, you can’t just keep it from her! You have the love of her life - who she thinks is dead - in your basement...”

Pepper is cut off by Wanda, who strolls into the room, holding a cup of tea in one hand, and her other on her belly. “What’s in your basement?” Wanda says, stirring her tea with her powers.

“Nothing.” Says Tony quickly, rushing over to her. “Let’s have you sit down...”

Wanda rolls her eyes. “Tony. I’m pregnant, not crippled.”

“Right, not crippled. Just stubborn as hell.” Tony quips back.

The large room in the Stark Mansion, once filled with Avengers, feels strangely empty as always. It’s been almost 9 months since Thanos’ snap, and the blip left only Pepper, Tony, and Wanda on the team. Given that Wanda was injured after the fight with Thanos, Pepper insisted that she stay with her and Tony, so they could help her through her pregnancy and delivery; given that she had mostly been on bed rest for almost the entirety of it.

Wanda looks a bit flushed, and eyes the couch. She considers her pride of just saying she didn’t need to be coddled, and her actual need to sit down. The latter is victorious, and she sinks into the cushions with a satisfied expression.

“I still can’t believe you went to fight Thanos with us and you were pregnant.” Tony says.

“No one on the team would have let me fight if I had said anything,” Wanda says nonchalantly. “And, I didn’t know for sure if it had worked, anyway. I’m fine.”

“The internal bleeding said otherwise.”

Wanda glares at him, and her eyes begin to glow red. After a moment, her expression softens, and becomes distracted. She turns her head away, so Tony and Pepper wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

“At least I got to say goodbye to my husband.”

Tony and Pepper shoot each other a quick look, which isn’t unnoticed by Wanda. “What was that about?” Wanda asks, her eyes narrowing.

Tony sighs. “Wanda, I need you to come with me to the basement.”

————————————————————————

Wanda wasn’t as fast on her feet as she used to be, so it took them awhile to get down the stairs.

“Alright, buddy... you can come on out.”

“Who are you——” Wanda began.

But then, she saw him.

Almost like a dream, he materialized. The familiar red, blue, and silver face, the chest that she had fallen asleep on so many times, and the uniform that she always argued needed changes, but secretly loved all the same.

“Vizh?” She whispered, walking up to him like a scared puppy; not sure what was really in front of her, and not wanting it to hurt again.

“Wanda.” Vision gently takes her hand, and puts it in the middle of his forehead, on the glowing mind stone. In a moment that’s just their own, he whispers to Wanda the words that they cherished together; a greeting during their stolen moments in the beginning of their relationship - “It’s been a long, long time.”

“It really is you.” Wanda began to shake, and then sobs so strong wracked her body that no sound came out of her mouth. Vision cradles her in his arms and pets the back of her hair.

After a moment, Wanda abruptly pulls away, and finds Tony in the room. Her eyes are on fire - she hadn’t been this angry since Thanos had killed her husband and made her watch. In that moment, Vision notices that her belly is swollen, and he blurts out: “Wanda, it worked...? Why didn’t you——-”

Wanda is too distracted to hear anything but the rage in her own mind. The red flares began to form in the palms of her hands. “How dare you keep him from me! How could you! I can’t believe you let me think he was dead, you son of a —-! ”

In that moment, she clutches her stomach as a liquid trickles down her leg. Her demeanor changes immediately; her green eyes show fear beyond belief. The red flares in her hands disappear as quickly as they came. Her voice comes out in a shaky whisper.

“My water just broke.”

Tony turns toward Pepper in triumph, his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. “What did I tell you would happen?”

“God, Tony! What the hell is wrong with you? Now isn’t the time for this!” Pepper yells as Vision gently picks up Wanda and they all hurry their way back up the stairs.

———————————————————————-

“Vision, put her down over here.” Says Pepper, gesturing to what looks like a spare room. In reality, it’s set up as a birthing suite for Wanda; Pepper just didn’t think they would have to use it so soon, so it’s incomplete. Tony is pacing awkwardly outside, unsure what to do with himself.

“No. No, no... WAIT, no! Vision, don’t go... I can’t... it’s too early...” Wanda blurts out, hanging on to Vision with a death grip. She is hyperventilating.

Pepper quickly gathers everything she needs. “Vision, I need you to help me calm her down. The baby is already early, and we can’t have Wanda in distress at the same time. I need her to steady her breathing so I can check and see what’s going on.”

Vision nods and picks Wanda up again, and then situates himself on the bed with her laying back on this chest. He takes her into a firm and comforting hold while speaking to her gently.

“My love. Everything is alright. Let’s take some deep breaths together, okay?”

Wanda nods in silence, still shaking.

“Hoo. Hee. Hoo.”

“That’s it,” Vision says, “You’re doing great.”

“Vizh. It’s too early. I can’t...”

“You’re alright, Wanda. You’re alright. I’m here now.” Vision repeats to her.

“Good, Wanda. I need to check to see if the baby has grown enough to come now... if not, we will need to use drugs to stop your labor.”

“Allow me.” Vision says. He takes one hand and waves it over Wanda’s stomach, scanning what’s inside. Then, he projects the image onto the wall.

“Alright, well.” Pepper laughs lightly. “That was easy. Let’s see...” she studies the image for a moment. “Everything looks fine.”

Wanda tries to hide her fear, but comes out unsuccessful. “Are you... are you sure? I mean, maybe we should wait...?”

“Wanda, the baby wants to come now. It’s not always safe to use the drugs. We only do when it’s absolutely necessary. And, the baby looks just fine to me.”

“Oh.” Wanda whispers, unable to come up with another argument. She lays back in defeat on Vision’s chest, and grips his hand.

Vision understands immediately, and gives Pepper the “we need a moment alone” look.

Pepper is gone in an instant, and there is silence for a moment. All you can hear is Wanda’s shaky, mechanical breathing.

“You don’t have to say anything, Wanda. I already know what you’re thinking.”

Wanda laughs weakly, looking up at him. Her green eyes are pleading. “I thought we agreed not to use our mind-reading powers on each other.”

Vision smiles.

“I didn’t have to.”

He holds her belly and strokes her hair while she lays on him.

“I know you’re scared of loosing me again. And you want the baby to stay safe in there. But you don’t need to worry - I will always be with you, in life, and in death. I’m here now because that’s what was meant to be. I am here to meet our daughter with you.”

Wanda puts her hand to her mouth. “Daughter...? It’s a girl?”

Vision smiles.

“It’s a girl.”

————————————————————————

“Is there anything we can do to get this show on the road?” Wanda sighs.

Pepper shakes her head.

“Unfortunately, no. Given that you had bleeding at an early stage in your pregnancy, it wouldn’t be safe for you to use your powers to speed up your labor. So, we just have to hurry up and wait. You’re at 4 centimeters now.”

“You had what at an early stage?” Vision asks.

Pepper suddenly looks nervous. “Uh, I’ll leave you both alone. Seems like you have some things to... talk about.” She rushes out of the room.

Wanda rests her head on the middle of Vision’s chest. She knows he is waiting for her to speak.

“I’m sorry, okay... I should have told you. I should have told you my powers worked, and that I was able to get pregnant before I went out to fight Thanos.”

Vision has a blank look of anger on his face. “Should have? Wanda, you put our baby in danger when you didn’t have to——”

Wanda pushes herself off the bed into a standing position. “I did, Vizh! I did have to! You don’t understand!”

They’re both yelling now.

“And what exactly do I not understand?” Vision is standing, too, his feet hovering slightly above the ground.

“I couldn’t let Thanos kill you while I just sat around and did nothing! You are the love of my life, don’t you understand? That means I would do anything for you, Vision! Even if that means risking my own life, and our baby’s!”

Wanda is in hysterics, and she collapses on her knees. Vision makes his way toward her and holds her in his arms while she cries.

“Wanda, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. But you didn’t need to do that for me.”

Wanda holds him tightly. “I think I did. Thanos killed you, Vizh. And made me watch. You’ve only been back for a few hours.”

Silence. Her voice quivers. “I can’t lose you, Vision. Please. Not again.”

Vision’s heart feels like it’s broken into a million pieces at the sound of her voice. She is fragile, weak, vulnerable, exhausted; nothing like he saw her last. For a synthezoid who had the vocabulary of the greatest scholars, it surprisingly took him a long time to think of just the right thing to say.

“Wanda... what is grief, if not love living on in others?”

Wanda looks up at him. He never seems to grow tired of those eyes.

“I may have been gone, but I live on in you, and this beautiful baby girl... I don’t know what the future holds... but I’m here now, and I’m here with you.” He cradles her face and wipes the tears away.

Wanda laughs weakly, and relaxes in understanding.

“Now,” Vision begins excitedly,

“Let’s talk names!”

————————————————————————-

“I just read all the books on pregnancy in my database. It looks like moving around is supposed to speed up the labor. And swaying is supposed to help with the pain.” Vision suggests to Wanda. He was sitting next to her on the bed, holding her hand, and wiping away the sweat on her forehead with a damp towel. The last contraction had been particularly painful.

“Alright, let’s try it. I’m getting tired of this.” The powerful Scarlet Witch was in rare form: she looked unbelievably exhausted.

Vision spots a radio in the corner of the room, and glides over to it after helping Wanda get on her feet. “It’s Been a Long, Long Time” by Harry James begins to play.

“Care to dance, m’lady?” Vision smiles, reaching out his hand.

Wanda laughs. “You really want to dance with me when I look like this? Like a balloon?”

“I will always want to dance with you, my love.”

She smiles and takes his outstretched offering, and he pulls her close. Wanda holds one hand of his tightly, and the other supports the small of her back as they sway to the lyrics.

“Kiss me once

Then, kiss me twice

Then, kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Haven't felt like this, my dear

Since can't remember when

It's been a long, long time

You'll never know

How many dreams I dream about you

Or just how empty they all seem without you

So, kiss me once

Then, kiss me twice

Kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time”

In that moment, through all the pain she had endured, Wanda finally felt that everything would be alright.

————————————————————————-

Tony passes the open door, and peers inside. Wanda is laying on the bed with Vision at her side, gripping his hand. She is breathing rhythmically to the tune of “We Will Rock You”.

“Hoo Hoo Hee. Hoo Hoo Hee. Hoo Hoo Hee.”

The contraction passes and Wanda sighs in relief, and falls back into the pillows. She turns her head and notices Tony at the door.

“Vizh, why don’t you go help Pepper outside?”

Vision notices Tony, and realizes what’s going on. He knows better than to argue with his wife, especially when she’s in labor. In an instant, he’s out of the room. Tony hesitantly strolls inside. He seems unsure of himself until Wanda pats the side of the bed, inviting him to come sit.

Tony didn’t notice how tired she looked before now. Her light red hair was frizzy, tied up in a bun atop her head, and sweat had caused ringlets to stick to the sides of her face, almost like a frame. The oversized grey nightgown, courtesy of Pepper, sticks out due to her swollen stomach.

“Look, Wanda... I’m sorry.”

She laughs, turning her head away and resting it on the pillow. “Never thought I’d hear those words from you, Stark.”

“I didn’t want you to go into early labor from shock. I was able to bring him back two months ago. I don’t think it’s something I can replicate again, though. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off.” Says Tony, in a rare moment of showing his imperfections. “I finally told you today because Pepper has been begging me. She didn’t think you’d actually go into labor.”

Wanda turns back, and looks him in the eyes. “You did the right thing.” She says, “At least the baby is alright.”

Her body seizes up, and she yelps out loud. “Oh no... so close together... oh god!”

Tony panics instantly, yelling, “What do I do? What do I do??”

“Hold my hand, idiot!” Wanda screams at him, her face still scrunched up in concentration. She reaches blindly and grips Tony’s hand.

“Ahhh.... Wanda, think you can loosen the grip a bit?”

She glares at him. “Are you kidding me right now, Stark? Ooooh...—-!”

Vision and Pepper rush in at the sound of commotion. Pepper begins laughing hysterically at the expression of sheer panic on Tony’s face.

Tony holds up his own hand, still in a death vice from Wanda. “I believe this is yours, Vision? Time to take over, maybe?”

Vision smirks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I think you’re doing just fine, Tony.”

————————————————————————-

“8 centimeters, Wanda. Nearly there.” Pepper says, taking off her gloves and lowering the bottom of Wanda’s gown to rest on her legs.

“Oh, wow...” Vision begins.

“Just hitting you?” Wanda laughs.

“How am I going to be a father? What if I mess up the kid? Oh no, I can’t do this...”

Wanda watches him begin to spiral, and takes his hand, laughing lightly. “Breathe, Vizh. Just breathe. Like this - ‘hoo hoo hoo hee’.”

He nods, so panicked that he is unaware of the joke.

“Hoo hoo hoo hee. Hoo hoo hoo hee.”

He gets it after a moment, then laughs, seemingly calmed down.

“If our baby girl is even just a little like you,” Wanda smiles, holding his face in her hands,

“then I think she will be just fine. So there’s no need to worry, Vizh.”

————————————————————————-

“Oooh. Oh, god. No. Please...”

“Wanda, just keep breathing. Not too much longer now.” Vision says, trying to calm her down.

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”

Pepper and Vision were kneeling on the ground next to Wanda, whose contractions wouldn’t allow her to stand up and walk a few paces to the bed. Vision offered to carry her, but she flinched at any touch besides the welcome holding of her hand. She had been in labor for over a day now.

Wanda’s grip on Vision’s hand tightened again for what felt like the millionth contraction. She had been a trooper so far, but this time, she screamed bloody murder.

“Vizh! Help me! PLEASE!” She begged, tears running down her face, and her free hand making its way to between her legs.

“The head! Oh god, Vizh. The head is right there—-!”

Pepper tries to calm her down, but nothing is working. “Wanda, you’re alright. It’s alright. Can you let me see what’s going on? Maybe we can get you to the bed now——-”

“NO! Don’t touch me! Just make it stop!”

“Wanda.” Vision’s voice became as gentle as a bee landing on a wild flower. “Let me feel. I won’t hurt you. I will never hurt you. Please let me help you.”

Wanda had always been stubborn, especially now; only Vision had the ability to get her to comply. Vision slowly moved her hand away from between her legs, and put his hand in its place. “Good. That’s it, my love. This won’t hurt, okay?”

The delicate skin around is stretching and there is, in fact, a small head emerging from between Wanda’s legs. He can feel the thick hair on his daughter’s head. “No wonder she is in pain,” Vision thinks to himself, “looks like the head is bigger than the average newborn’s. Even if it wasn’t, this must hurt like... what do the humans say? Like hell.”

Vision nods at Pepper to let her know that the baby is crowning. “Wanda, you’re almost at the end now.” Pepper says, taking her hand, and supporting her back. “When you have another contraction, you need to push as hard as you can, alright?”

“No. I’m done. We’re doing this another day.”

Pepper tries not to laugh at Wanda’s defiance. “I wish I could say it worked like that.”

Before another protest could make its way out of her mouth, Wanda’s body seized in another contraction, and she fell back onto Pepper, who continued to support her back. Pepper took both Wanda’s hands and let her squeeze them as hard as she needed. Vision gently opened Wanda’s legs as she laid back on Pepper. Once Wanda was in the right position, and she began to push as hard as she could. Vision’s hand stayed gingerly on his daughter’s head, guiding her into the world.

————————————————————————-

“It’s not working!” Wanda screams. “The baby won’t come out! Get it OUT!”

“Breathe, my love. Breathe.” Vision soothes her.

“Vision, this is going to sound silly, but there’s olive oil in the kitchen...” Pepper begins, but she doesn’t need to finish, because Vision has already sped back with it in his hands in less than half a second. You can hear Tony in the other room: “Not the good bottle!”

Pepper yells back: “Tony, be quiet! And get in here! We need help!”

Tony enters the scene: Wanda is laying back, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat, held by his wife behind her. Vision is at her end. Her legs are spread open and Vision seems to be waiting for instructions. Tony holds one of Wanda’s legs so Vision has another free hand to work. He refuses to watch the actual birth, and isn’t sure where to place his gaze, which just shifts nervously around the room every few seconds.

“Okay, Vision. Just gently rub the oil around the baby’s head... it should help it slip out easier. Wanda, I’ve got you... Vision is going to be gentle, alright? This will help. I promise. Let’s breathe together. Don’t think about what Vision is doing... just focus on breathing... that’s it.” Wanda follows Pepper’s instructions and starts her rhythmic breathing and grips Pepper’s hand. She winces at Vision’s touch; the area already feels as if it’s on fire.

“That’s it, Wanda. That’s it. Just keep breathing with me. I’ve got you.” Pepper says to her in a voice so gentle it could have been from an angel. She strokes the top of Wanda’s head comfortingly.

“Here’s another contraction now in a minute... push as hard as you can, okay? And you can scream as loud as you need to.” Pepper’s timing is immaculate: Wanda bears down again, and screams with the sensation of the baby’s head leaving her body.

“Okay, Wanda. The head is out.” Pepper says, watching Vision’s hand cradle it gently from her view above. Then, Pepper sees something, and her heart drops in her chest.

“Wait. Wanda. Don’t push.”

“What?” Wanda says, completely out of breath. “You’ve been telling me to push this whole time—-”

“Listen to me. Do NOT push. Vision, the chord. It’s wrapped around the baby’s neck.”

And then he saw it: how could he have missed it before? A thick chord, wrapped around the neck of his sweet baby girl.

Wanda immediately starts to panic. “No. No. This isn’t happening—-! You said the baby was fine, Pepper!”

“It was fine... these things happen sometimes during a vaginal birth on the way out. Vision, I need you to listen to me - I’m going to tell you what you need to do, okay? Wanda, this is going to hurt, so I need you to just keep breathing in and out.”

Pepper’s sudden command of the room and calm in an emergency made Vision and Wanda feel a bit more at ease.

“Alright, Vision. You’re going to need to push back the skin around the head and detangle the chord. Wanda’s already pretty stretched out, so there might be a tear, but we have no other choice.”

“A tear—-?” Wanda began, but was cut short by Vision following the instructions he was given. Her face contorted into one or insufferable pain; it mirrored her reaction when Pietro fell for a final time - a scream so visceral that no sound came out.

“Wanda. Push now. We need to get her out immediately.” Pepper tells her. Wanda’s head falls back onto Pepper’s shoulder in exhaustion. The sweat gleans on her forehead.

“I.... I can’t.”

“You have to, Wanda. Please.”

Wanda had never heard Vision so emotional; never had he pleaded with her for anything. This brought her the rest of her strength for one final push.

The baby was out.

But, she was not crying.

————————————————————————-

“Why isn’t she crying? What’s going on...?” Wanda cried, but it was too late.

Her baby girl had no heartbeat, no pulse.

She was gone.

What happened next, Wanda could not have predicted in a thousand lifetimes.

Vision put his hand to the small girl’s chest, and her color began to return. As it did, Vision grew more and more pale, and the glow emitting from the Mind Stone began to dim. He swayed back and forth, gently singing to his newborn daughter.

“Haven’t felt like this, my dear

Since can’t remember when

It’s been a long, long time...”

In that moment, he finally understood why Wanda had done what she had...

as the ultimate act of love was sacrifice.

“Take good care of your mama for me.” Vision whispered, before using the last of his energy to gently set the now sleeping baby into Tony’s arms.

“NO.... VISION! NO —— !”

Vision collapsed, looking peaceful, as if he was taking a long slumber.

Wanda screamed, and did not stop, hoping that somehow, her grief would bring him back. Pepper held tightly to Wanda as she thrashed around. In Tony’s arms, the sleepy baby girl was reaching for her father, who had already journeyed into the great beyond.

But, Vision wasn’t really gone...

as he would live on in her, for a long, long time.

[idabbleincrazy]

Breaking Point

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Buffyverse)

Rating: M

Pairing: Spike/Nyx(Lyla) (Angel’s sister, vampire!OFC), Spike/Drusilla (recent past relationship)

Word Count: 2790

Warnings: Angst, pining, depressed!Spike, self-imposed starvation, first person pov, clothed smut, thigh riding, minor blood drinking, recounting the past, s3 canon divergence (Spike stays in Sunnydale after Lover’s Walk and takes up residence in Angel’s mansion)

Summary: After Dru leaves Spike again, seemingly for good this time, Nyx is at her wits end trying to get him to take care of himself. An argument leads to all the cards being laid on the table. 

A/N: So, over at the @fanficocean discord, we have a trivia game where the winner of each month gets to make a drabble request from one of the other players, and March’s winner @zombitch-cas asked me if I could write a fic using her OFC Nyx and I ended up inspired enough to go waaay beyond drabble status with it. This is my first time in years writing in first person, so sorry if the tenses ended up a bit wonky. 

Feedback fuels my creativity! If you like my work, plz comment/reblog!!

She’s left him again, that doddering bint. Why he still puts up with her, I’ll never understand. Drusilla. God but I hate her sometimes. If it weren’t for my unshakable loyalty to Liam, I’d have staked her the day he left us. Sure, even as early as then, Spike would have been sore at me for it, but at least back in those first months, he wasn’t quite so head-over on her yet. Her being his ‘destiny’ hadn’t kept him from chasing up other skirts, though to my own sad misfortunes Angelus made sure he never so much as sniffed my way. Of all the lingering traits dear brother clung to, protectiveness was one I sorely could’ve done without.

That had all changed after my dear, vicious brother left us. Drusilla had gone into a hell of a fit over it, wailing at the heavens and throwing her precious dollies about. He well and truly set himself as her staunch protector then, saving her from herself more often than any outward foe, what with her repeated attempts to walk out and greet the sunrise. Oh, but he doted on her, and any chance I had at winning his attention, let alone his affection, went out the window with my dear departed brother. From that moment on, he truly became what she had turned him for, William the Bloody, Spike, Pale Prince of The Whirlwind, had become her Knight-Errant. Constantly at her side, indulging every fleeting whim that passed through that pretty little head of hers, no matter how cracked it seemed. 

And now, a century later, she’s spurned him more and more. I still ought to stake her, screw whatever ire he throws my way for it. It’s no less than she deserves, the way he comes home drunk as only a vampire can be every time she closes herself off from him, running off God knows where with nonsense on her tongue. She doesn’t have to live with that look in his eyes. She doesn’t have to live with the silence that speaks volumes and no way to comfort him as he mourns her absence. 

He’s starting to lose weight again, hasn’t been drinking enough blood since she left and it’s taking its toll on him, his already pale skin now thin and waxen, the faint blue of his veins becoming more visible with each passing night. A few more nights like this, and he won’t even be able to hunt. That’s it, I have to put a stop to all this miserable sulking. 

Spike’s just come down from his room to grab a beer from the fridge, so I stand from where I’ve been stewing in my thoughts on the couch and approach him slowly. I hate that I feel like I’m about to confront an injured animal, that if I move too suddenly or do or say the wrong thing, he’ll spook and bolt back up the stairs.

“Spike”, I keep my voice gentle as I enter the kitchen, his back to me as he rummages around in the refrigerator. “The sun’s just set, and I was thinking we could go out and catch ourselves something pretty.”

Spike straightened up and turned to face me, his eyes dull and sunken in from his abstinence. He twists the cap off the bottle of beer in his hand and takes a long swig from it as he crosses over to me. His eyes meet mine briefly before he looks down at the floor, setting the bottle down on the counter I’m leaning against. 

“Not really feelin’ up to it tonight, Nyx. You go on and leave me to it, yeah?” 

“Leave you to what?” I ask, my temper welling up again at his dejected tone. “Leave you to drownin’ yourself in booze as you waste away? Spike, you haven’t hunted in days now, barely even drank any of the last stupid tosser I brought back! Dammit, William, you need to feed. I’m not gonna just sit around and watch you fade beyond recovery just because she’s flitted off halfway ‘round the world.”

I could barely hear Spike’s angered growl, he was either too weak or just too sad to even get mad properly. 

“Told you not to mention her, Lyla!” Spike pushed off the counter and brought himself to his full height to loom over me, his lips drawn into a tight grimace. “You leave Dru out of this, I’m warning you, Nyx.”

“Warning me? You’re warning me, William?” I hadn’t wanted to fight with him, but really, how dare he? I got right back in his face, my fangs itching to descend as a warning growl rumbled in my chest. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are to be warning me, Will? I may care about you, but do not forget your place here, Spike. I’ve more than a century on you, and I will not be spoken to in such a manner.

And as for your precious Drusilla, I’ll leave her out of it when she stops being the reason you’re so keen on letting yourself rot away.” A mere push at his chest with my forefinger is all it takes to get him to stumble back, thin as he is, and again my anger at his poor excuse of a Sire flares. He at least had the decency to shutter his gaze at the assertion of my higher status, though the look of sadness that replaces his anger causes an unwarranted pang of guilt in the back of my mind. “Look, Spike, I can’t keep watching you do this every time she leaves. When you’re like this, I lose my best friend, my favorite hunting partner, and the only person that I’ve got left that I give a damn about, who I thought gave a damn about me. I know you’re hurt, but surely you must know you deserve better than her. Better than how she treats you.”

Spike looked up at me, his shoulders slumping in defeat, and I took up his abandoned beer and drained the bottle before continuing, softening my voice. 

“You know I love you, Will. Can you think for just one second of how it must make me feel, to see you pained so, and knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do to punish her without hurting you further?” I took a step closer to him, my anger draining as I reached up to cup his face, his skin too cold even for a vampire, nearly ashen and dry as old parchment. He needs to feed, really feed, and soon. His eyes flutter closed at my touch, a soft sigh falling from his lips, and I can smell the stale scent of tobacco and whiskey in the exhalation, can smell the immense sadness that’s taken root within him. “I’d stake her in a second if I thought you could ever forgive me for it, if you wouldn’t hate me for the rest of eternity. She doesn’t deserve your loyalty, Spike, she doesn’t deserve you. She never did.”

Spike’s eyes opened at that, a dull flash of anger sparking through stormy blue, his lips parting to object, but whatever argument he had been poised to make is quelled easily enough with a look. I’ve waited too bloody long to speak my mind, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to hold my tongue any longer and let him try to defend that barmy bitch again. I fight to keep my voice even as I continue, to keep down the snarl I feel pushing at the back of my throat.  

“She only sunk her claws into you once she noticed the way I looked at you. Dru just wanted to control you, to own you. To keep you to herself, and away from me. She saw it, in her stargazing, how much I wanted you to be mine, how I wanted to be yours. That was when she decided to change the dynamic between you from playmates to lovers, knowing how much it would hurt me to snatch that bit of happiness away from me.” Spike let out a soft gasp at that revelation, and I feel his hands raise from his sides to rest lightly on my waist as he looks down at me. “Always jealous that I was Angelus’ right hand, Dru was, as if it were my fault. Used to wonder if he turned her as a bit of twisted punishment for some transgression I was unaware of. A way to remind me of my place after slighting Darla, perhaps. Either way, from the day she woke, we never managed to get along, for no matter how often my dear brother would whisk her away to his bed, what we shared could never grow between them. I held his confidence and she couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand how he doted on me even in the face of her own petulance, so when you came along, she saw her opportunity to take revenge, no matter that it wasn’t my actions that kept a wedge between Angelus and herself but their own. 

Between Angelus rarely letting us be in the same room alone and her pulling her leash on you tighter after he left us, I never stood a chance at getting you to look my way. A century spent hoping you’d come to see me as something more than a friend or a hunting partner, and not even a whiff. And now, even with her gone, she still has you in her grasp, her teeth sunk in down to bone and I just can’t seem to wrench you free.” I felt my anger drain away and defeat replacing it, felt myself give up any hope of getting through to him and making him see reason. Spike’s still looking down at me, his face blank save for the slight drawing together of his eyebrows, and I pull away from him as I continue speaking, a dreadful sense of finality settling upon my shoulders. “You don’t wanna pull yourself out of this? Fine. I’m done, William. I give up. I’m going to go down to the Bronze and bag a snack or two and then I’m gonna search out a new place to crash. You can have the house, and the memories that come with it. Don’t need the reminders. Good luck drowning yourself in the past, and for your own sake only, I hope she comes back for you before it’s too late.”

Feeling the tears pricking my eyes, I’m halfway through the kitchen doorway before Spike catches up to me, his hand quickly slipping into mine as he turns me to face him. I can’t bear to look into his eyes as he pulls me back to him, and I hate myself for it, hate him for making me feel so bloody...human. His other hand comes up to nudge at my chin, a silent urging for me to meet his gaze. When I finally do, he’s no longer blank, his blue eyes clearer than they have been in weeks. Since she left. 

“Nyx...Lyla, I didn’t know. Swear it. Didn’t believe ‘er when she said it, thought she’d just gone ‘round the bend again, told her she was seein’ it wrong. But she wasn’t, after all.” Before I could make sense of his rambling, he’s leaning down and his lips are brushing across mine, and the world has gone topside down, could fall away into the abyss for all I know, as time has stopped and dragged on and lost all meaning before he pulls away again, his ever-unneeded breath fanning over my face as a small smile forms on his lips. I’m frozen there, hardly processing the passing of time as he watches me, it could be seconds, it could be months, years or centuries before I blink and stare back at him in amazed confusion. He presses his forehead to mine and I feel myself sinking into his embrace. “She left ‘cause of you, Nyx. Said she’d already lost me, that you were draped over me like a blanket, and I couldn’t make sense of what she’d meant. Not that first day, anyhow. But I realized it soon enough, how my feelings for you had changed these past years, ‘specially after that whole Acathla business, with you being at my side ‘gainst them both like that, goin’ up against your own brother to help me.”

“Spike-”

“Shh, pet. You’ve spoke your mouthful, lemme have mine, yeah? I haven’t been lettin’ myself go to rot for want of her, but because I didn’t see a point to toddlin’ through life with no hope of you ever feelin’ how I do. I love you, Nyx, have done for a fair bit now, and I’m so bloody sorry I was too much of a damned coward to admit it. I love you so soddin’ much.”

A wave of shock-filled relief washed over me and I couldn’t hold back the peal of incredulous laughter that escaped my lips as I slid my arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss. Spike let out a soft sigh that sounded full of contentment as our lips touched, his arms wrapping around my back as he tugged my body closer against his. His tongue swiped gently across my bottom lip, a silent query for invitation which I readily gave, and his thigh slotted between my legs as he turned us both to push me back against the wall of the entryway as he deepened the kiss. Cursing my decision on wearing jeans tonight instead of something with easier access, I let out a soft moan that was quickly swallowed up as he ground his thigh against me. I wrenched my lips away from his as the electric zip of arousal raced up my spine, letting my head fall back against the wall as he continued to work me over. He let out a dark chuckle as he dipped his head, his mouth making a quick trail over my throat and along to my shoulder, blunt teeth teasing over skin, digging in harder when he reached the faint scar that lay there on the curve of my neck. 

“C’mon, luv, let go for me,” Spike murmured against my skin as I bucked under him, gasping out in surprise at how quickly he had brought me to the edge. “Lemme hear you, Nyx, just once before we head out, hmm? Got no choice but to hunt now, do I? Not if I wanna have the strength to fuck you senseless tonight. God, so beautiful, my cruel Goddess. Can smell how close you are, Nyx, let me feel you come.”

“Spike...fuck, oh God, William…”

I heard the crunch of muscles as his demon face fell to the fore and tilted my head to the side in eager welcome as his fangs scraped over the already-teased flesh. He let out a low growl and sank his fangs in, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he took the first swallow of my blood. I bucked down harder against his thigh, a loud moan falling from my lips as I felt myself tumble into oblivion, his strong, slim fingers gripping bruisingly tight at my hips as I rubbed against him. 

“Jesus Christ, Spike!”

My head swam as my climax washed over me, and I held onto him until the tremors subsided, my body going lax in his grip as he released his fangs from my neck. His tongue was rough as he lapped up the final trickles of blood, sending shivers sparking through me down to my already sensitive core.

“Will...Spike...fuck.”

Spike chuckled lightheartedly as he nosed at the curve of my throat, the crunching sound of his demon face receding barely registering in my ears. 

“Good to know you can keep that eloquent tongue sharp as ever after you come, ducks.”

“Don’t tease, Will. Been too bloody long since anyone’s made me feel like that, can’t expect a girl to keep from losing her wits after.”

“Mm, poor little kitten.” Spike’s voice was soft and earnest as he spoke by my ear. “Best we get goin’ then, ‘cause that sounds like a situation in dire need of fixin’, luv.”

He pressed a soft kiss to my cheek and pulled away, his hand finding mine again as he pulled me along with him towards the front door. I followed along in an arousal-fueled daze, hardly able to make sense of the turn the night had taken so suddenly.

“Let’s away, pet. Bronze should be good and hoppin’ with dozy little morsels for us to lure away into the shadows by now.”

~~~~

@thewhiterabbit42​ @prose-for-hire​ @highonbandcandy​