#I just want the meeting minutes tell me what happened in there

[woso-dreamzzz]

If You Were My Little Girl II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Things are looking up

Alexia watches from the stands.

They're mostly empty, like almost all Barcelona B matches.

Women's football has only really started picking up steam recently but only at the top flight. The lower level leagues are still having a bit of a popularity issue.

But Alexia, for once, finds that she doesn't mind.

Because it means she can sit practically alone in the stands as she watches the home match.

A notepad sits on her lap, a pen tapping against the pages thoughtfully as she watches.

Barcelona B are good and Alexia has never expected anything different. She's seen the system at work many times as La Masia churns out players like Aitana and Pina and Jana, and more recently Vicky and Martina.

There's a reason so many clubs wants La Masia products.

They're all good players but even now, Alexia can tell a great player when she sees one.

You rise up among the crowd in the box and slam the ball into the goal, the net rippling with the force of the shot.

The best part, Alexia thinks, is that you didn't even need a moment to control the ball, hitting it in on the volley and grinning as your teammates practically dogpile you.

A hattrick in ten minutes is impressive in any league and Alexia makes another note in her notebook, humming softly to herself.

She rises out of her seat at the end of the match, disappearing into the building and out the doors.

It takes another half an hour for you to appear again, hair damp and an old crew neck sweater that Alexia's pretty sure is Alba's being tugged over your head.

You slip into the passenger seat, throwing your bag into the backseat and Alexia pulls your head down to press a kiss against the side of it.

You smile shyly at her as she offers up the fries she'd bought for a job well done.

"You did good, kid," She says," Very impressive."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. But I think we're going to work on evading slide tackles next," Alexia says as she drives off," We're trying to keep those ankles of yours intact, alright? I'm going to need them this season."

You roll your eyes and Alexia clicks her tongue.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," She says," I've got a good feeling about that meeting later in the week. A great feeling, actually. You should have one too."

"I'm managing expectations."

Alexia looks at you fondly. "Well, we'll see which one of us is right in a few days."

She lets you choose the music in the car, like she always does when you've scored a goal and you pull up to the apartment a lot quicker than you want to seeing as you're in the middle of singing along to your favourite song but, still, you drag yourself out of the car and up the stairs.

"How was the match?" Olga asks as she greets Alexia with a kiss on the lips.

"She did very well," Alexia brags," A hattrick within the first ten minutes and another goal in injury time."

"Exciting," Olga says indulgently as Alexia grins, already giving her running commentary of everything that happened during the match.

You escape though, hurrying to raid the cupboards before Alexia finally comes to her senses and tries to stop you 'spoiling' your dinner.

You don't know if there's any way to thank Alexia for what she's done for you.

Just three months ago, you were convinced that you were going to quit. You had no passion for the game, no hope of what your future was going to be but now all of that had changed.

You had direction. You had a manager. You had new boots and a place to live that wasn't a group home and support and love and everything seemed to be coming together for you.

A toe pokes you in the leg.

"Move."

"Alexia says that if you're trying to nap on her sofa again then I don't have to move," You tell Alba, who huffs and pokes you with her toe again," She also says that you have your own apartment and should stop mooching of us."

"But Olga's a better cook than me," Alba complains and you roll your eyes.

"Aren't you an adult? Even I can cook."

"Yeah but it's not like you could mooch off your sist-"

Alba falls silent quickly and you pretend to not notice what she was going to say for both hers and your own sakes.

The topic of your sister is kind of off limits when you're in the room. It's not completely banned because Alexia's still Jenni's national teammate but she's not really spoken about if you're in the room.

Alba's face flashes with terror for a moment so you pretend you don't notice her slip up ever though it sends a bolt of lightning into your stomach, a deep pit forming there.

It works for the most part, everyone in the house pretending Jenni isn't who she is to you, pretending that she's just Alexia's teammate and not her friend and ex, pretending that Alexia fostering you isn't her walking on a tight rope because Jenni doesn't know.

All Jenni knows is that you didn't quit when she told you to.

Jenni doesn't know that you live with Alexia. Jenni doesn't know anything. You doubt she even thinks about you when she's got a life far away in Mexico.

She lives there, far away from you and your life here in Barcelona.

She lives there and her presence is hardly ever mentioned around you.

Life is good at Alexia and Olga's house. Life is even good at training, though you could do without the smug little smirk Alexia has on her face when she picks you up.

"You already knew!" You accuse her, waving a finger in her face.

"Knew?" She asks, lips curl up in what can only be described as pure smugness," Knew what?"

"Right, who told you? Go on. Who was it?"

Alexia grins. "You do realise I am the captain? Any time they're looking to bring someone in, they ask me my opinion."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah and I'm sure you gave it."

"You're a good player. A great player," Alexia says," All I did was tell them what they already know."

You look down at your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. You want to be mad at her, to yell at her for keeping this from you. Maybe even yell at her for promising to the staff something you're not but you know she hasn't done that.

If she thought you weren't ready, she would have told them that.

But Alexia didn't. She didn't tell them to let you have a bit more time with the B team. She didn't tell them that you don't quite have what it takes.

"Thanks."

Alexia smiles at you as she drives home, a comfortable silence enveloping you both until your hand is on the door handle.

You stop.

"When I open this door, there's going to be a party, isn't there?"

"I may have told Olga...who told Mami...who told Alba...who told the rest of the family..."

"Is that a yes?"

"Possibly..."

"And there's no getting out of this?"

Alexia ruffles your hair, a soft kiss being pressed to the side of your head. "They're here to celebrate you."

You suck in a breath, just ready to turn the handle when the sound of the lift doors opening chimes down the corridor.

Both you and Alexia turn your heads towards.

It's just a fleeting second.

Just a moment.

But your good mood plummets as the door opens.

Alexia's hand tightens on your shoulder, pushing you slightly behind her and putting herself between you and the elevator.

Between you and Jenni.

[onlymexsarah]

Burning Flames I || Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Ancheron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: less Eris than what you might expect, but with the next episode you'll forgive me; and english is not my first language :)

The first time Eris saw you was at the High Lords meeting. As soon as he had entered the room something flickered in Eris' chest, something warm that made his eyes looking around, a bored look on his calculated face, as he studied where the source of that flicker was. Then, his eyes laid on you, and oh gods if he had to call all his five centuries of practise to keep his breath from catching.

Before his eyes was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. He felt an unknown urge to know your name, your story, what had brought you there. Your eyes were on his father, studying him as the Vanserras had entered the room.

Eris took a second to realize that you were seated between the High Lady of the Night Court and another bautiful female. All three of you looking oddly similar to one another, and it was that moment that he realized who you were. You and the female at your left were two of the three High Lady's sisters, turned High Fae by Hybhern. Twins, he realized as he looked at the two of you. So close you looked like fire and ice. Your features were warm, even the colors of your hair, skin and eyes were a warm contrast to Nesta's cold features, all sharp and icy.

Your eyes scanned all his brothers until they fell on him, and Eris kept a cold face as you studied him, his posture, how his brothers obeyed to him.

Your eyes flickered quickly to Mor, then on him again and Eris could tell the exact moment that you connected who he was, because you grimaced and turned your face in a cold and dismissal expression. Of course the bastards would spread what happened with Mor; he thought with bitter humor. He gave you a lazy, mocking grin before turning his attention on Thesan, who now was talking to welcome everyone.

It was when Tamlin appeared that he felt that warm flicker inside him again, and when he curiously looked at you what he saw pietrified him. It wasn't cold that shimmered in your eyes. There were pure, burning flames in them.

Two punds of raging, wild, unforgiving fire were now locked on the High Lord of the Spring Court, and for a moment Eris was thankful that you have just watched him with dismissal distain, because what you were giving Tamlin was a promise of slow, painful death.

“It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family.” A sneer from Tamlin toward you and your twin. “Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?”

Eris saw your hands gripping the arms of the chair, your knuckles white from the strenght. You were going to kill him, he was sure of that. You were going to kill Tamlin someday.

***

You could feel your power, rising in your body, begging to be lashed out.

As you watched Tamlin's smug smirk a lovely imagine formed in your mind. Tamlin's body burning from the inside out, his blood boiling with your flames, his flesh coming down slowly and painfully while he begged to stop. Yes, more you looked at him and more that imagine gave you comfort.

He was the one who had sold you and your sisters to Hybern. He was the one who locked Feyre inside his house, who forbade her from doing anything she wanted. He was the one who responsible for your sisters' traumas, and you were going to make him pay.

You wondered if you were imagining his sweat on his forehead, his hand coming to adjust his shirt's collar every now and then, his breath heavier with every minute. It was if for once your power had listened to you and was now doing what you wanted.

Careful, for how much I'd like to see his blood boiling up it wouldn't win you many alliances to defend the humans. Rhysand's velvet voice appeared in your head, making you blink few times before lettiing go the arms of your chair and calming your breath.

Sorry. You answered him, not feeling ashamed at all. Tamlin was targetting Rhysand too, the male who saved you and gave you a place to call home, promising you that he would keep your sisters safe.

“You’re insane,” Feyre breathed to Tamlin as Varian bared his teeth. “Do you hear what you’re saying?” Your sister pointed toward you and Nesta. “Hybern turned my sisters into Fae, after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!”

“Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress, I’m sure the trait runs in the family.” said Tamlin with a scoff.

"It seems like you love to insinuate what an Ancheron girl want in her life and what she doesn't." You said slowly, your voice burning with fire as you locked your eyes with his. "I hope the trait doesn't ruin in your court. If you had any left after you let Hybern in their houses."

Tamlin snarled at you, and you only lift your chin higher not feeling scared or intimidated even for a moment. Many things had changed since he had come and wrecked your cottage, and now he was the one who had to be afraid.

"You'll find out, Tamlin..." said Rhysand with a bored voice. "That nothing good come out from telling an Ancheron what to do. But you should already know that."

You could feel the flames inside you ready to be leashed out, but you kept them at bay, knowing that all it needed was for Tamlin to make a move toward you or your sisters and you would let them out. It wouldn't matter if you burned too, you would make sure to incinerate Tamlin.

“Pity you didn’t bring the other sister. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty.” snorted the male you had recognized as Eris. Your eyes snapped to met his and you found him already looking at you.

As soon as he had walked inside the room your brain had gone silent for a moment. He was, with your deepest annoyance, the most beautiful male you had ever seen, and that thought alone was enough to make you ashamed. You had needed few seconds to recognize who he was, and as soon as you put the name on his face you had grimaced at the thought of have called him beautiful in your mind.

You narrowed your eyes, your hands hitching from the unleashed power you were keeping inside your body. If they did as much as to hurt Elain you would incinerate all of the red haired family in front of you.

Eris seemed to understand your look, because he only smirked amused at you before Mor's voice caught his attention. “You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things don’t change over the centuries.”

Eris’s mouth curled into a smile at the words, the careful game of pretending that they had not seen each other in years. “Good to know that after five hundred years, you still dress like a slut.”

You had barely widened your eyes, disgusted by his words, as a flash of blue light passed in front of your eyes. A moment Eris was seated, the next he was on the ground, Azriel over him.

You hid a smirk behind your hand as you watched Azriel's hands around Eris' throat, and the heir of Autumn running out of air. It didn't matter if you had a secret alliance with him, he had no problem into proving how horrible he was.

When the alliance had been forged the Inner Circle had proceeded to tell you and Nesta what kind of person Eris was. How he had left Mor die because she had refused to marry him. How he had hunted your sister and Lucien when they were escaping the Spring Court.

So, the show that was now in front of your eyes made you amused for the first time since you had been taken from home. Your sister, Feyre, stopped Azriel and invited him to sit beside her, making all of your shift of one chair.

He sat at your right, and after a careful speech from Feyre, Eris apologized with Mor. It was curious that the Lady of the Autumn Court, Eris' mother, watched him with an approval look as he apologized. Maybe not everyone in the Vanserra family was horrible.

Around you everything was going down. Thesand had proposed an antidote for the faebane and while the Night Court was willing to try it, Beron threw free insults to your sister and Rhysand.

Thesan asked, “And you believe the human armies there will bow to Hybern?”

“Its queens sold us out,” Nesta said. She lifted her chin, poised as any emissary. “For the gift of immortality, the human queens will allow Hybern in to sweep away any resistance. They might very well hand over control of their armies to him.” Nesta looked to you, to Feyre, to Rhys. “Where do the humans on our island go? We cannot evacuate them to the continent, and with the wall intact … Many might rather risk waiting than cross over the wall anyway.”

“The fate of the humans below the wall,” Beron cut in, “is none of our concern. Especially in a spit of land with no queen, no army.”

"There are people." You said angryly while the fire run hotter inside your body. All you could see was Beron's disgusting face and his arrogance. "There are families. A moment ago you were all horrified about Amarantha killing the Winter Court's children, but now since they are humans its different?" You asked looking to every High Lords in the eyes, watching them shocked and uncredoulous. "Humans children are less than yours?" Your eyes locked with Kallias, the High Lord of the Winter Court.

"Careful with your accusation." said Kallias with a low voice.

"Careful with your next actions." You said back, letting him see the fire in your eyes, calling back your emissary voice. "How many parents had died trying to protect their kids from Amarantha?"

It was Viviane who answered, her hand closed thighly around her mate's. "All of them."

You rose your chin high, watching her right in the eyes. "Every human will fight againsgt Hybern. With or without your help, they will fight for their children, their families. And they will die too, without your help, hoping for a better future."

“So go waste your own soldiers defending them,” Beron said. “I will not send my own forces to protect chattel.”

Your eyes snapped back on him. “You’re a coward,” Feyre breathed to the High Lord of Autumn. Even Rhys tensed.

At some point Feyre hit Beron with her power, breaking his shield and trapping him in a bubble of water. Your eyebrows rose, surprised to see your sister's full powers.

Let us out, your flames begged. We will end him.

No. You couldn't let them out. Your power felt too descructive to be leasshed in a room full of people. It was better burning from the inside out rather than burning everyone you cared for.

Your sister seemed to calm down after a while, letting Beron breath again with your displeasure. How could someone so horrible be still alive after centuries? Why no one had never killed him?

The display of Feyre's power got the High Lords tensed up. She had showed them she had all their powers and not all of them were too happy.

“The power belongs to us. I think it is,” Beron seethed making you close your hands on your laps in tight fits. if he did as much as take a step toward your sister he would find that your fire was hotter and more dangerous than his.

You could feel them, the flames, starting to come out from your hands. Beron would let the humans die for his own benefits, he will never see reason.

But it was when your sister apologized to the Lady of the Autumn Court and Beron called her human filth that everythink around you exploded.

You felt your power lashing out, and as much killing Beron would only bring you happiness, there was one thing you wanted more. and it was for him to be afraid of you. So when your fire lashed out you stood up and directed it to the chair on which Beron was seated, making him fall on a pile of burning wood.

He yelled in pain. Your fire was circling him like snakes ready to strike, and it felt so good to let it out finally. The room fell quiet, everyone was looking at you but your eyes were fixed on the High Lord of the Autumn Court who now looked at you with a promise of death in his eyes.

"We are here to discuss an imminet war against Hybern." I said deadly serious while every inch of you fought to control the flames that now were out and extremely close to the Vanserra's other memeber. "But talk to my sister like that again, and next time I won't be aiming at the chair."

Beron shot to his feet, his hand still tring to make the little flames on his clothes stop, and declared to no one in particular, “This meeting is over. I hope Hybern butchers you all.”

"This meeting is not over." said Nesta raising on her feet.

She stood tall, a pillar of steel. “You are all there is,” she said to Beron, to all of them. “You are all that there is between Hybern and the end of everything that is good and decent.” She settled her stare on Beron, unflinching and fierce. “You fought against Hybern in the last war. Why do you refuse to do so now?”

Your eyes studied all the Vanserra sons, marking how Eris gestured for his brothers to sit and how his eyes met yours again. You expected to find challenge, rage for what you did to his father, but instead something fickered in his eyes. Something like...pride?

Your confusion must have shown on your face because his expression become amused, and you quickly looked away from him. You didn't want for the heir of Autumn to study you, to think you cared what he thought of you.

“You may hate us. I don’t care if you do. But I do care if you let innocents suffer and die. At least stand for them. Your people. For Hybern will make an example of them. Of all of us.” said Nesta at your side.

“And you know this how?” Beron sneered.

"We went into the Cauldron." You said, pushing away the horrible memories that came back. “It showed us his heart. He will bring down the wall, and butcher those on either side of it.”

Nesta looked to Kallias and Viviane. “I am sorry for the loss of those children. The loss of one is abhorrent.” She shook her head. “But beneath the wall, I witnessed children—entire families—starve to death.” She jerked her chin at you and Feyra. “Were it not for my sisters… I would be among them.”

She was right. You and Nesta might have been twins, but you were born few days before her and that made you the oldest, and as the oldest you had taken upon yourself to provide for your family when the money had ended.

"We are not asking you to protect them." You said firmly, taking Nesta's hand in yours while you watched every High Lord in the eyes. "We are asking you to give them a chance to survive. To fight together for your lands. They have spent centuries starving and dying while you were here with every comfort. They hate you? Yes. They will ask for your help? No. That's why we are here, because without you there will be no human left after this war."

Thesan cleared his throat. “While a noble sentiment, the details of the Treaty did not demand we provide for our human neighbors. They were to be left alone. So we obeyed.”

"Because they are scared of you." You said. "Because most of your kind have enslaved them for centuries. And they are afraid that if they let you close it will happen again. Show them they are wrong. Show them your strenght doesn't have only evil ends, but it can help to build a future where no children, human or Fae, will have to worry ever again."

"You have been entrusted with protecting this land.” Nesta scanned the faces around her. “How can you not fight for it?”

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering, impressed, even, by your and Nesta's speech. You met Eris' eyes again, and you looked at him determinated. He needed to convince his father to fight together, because otherwise the human lands would be reduce to ash.

You thought you had imagined it as he gave you a subt nod, masking it with his hand under his chin. What was it? A promise? Did he understand the gravity of the situantion and actually cared? Or was it only to ensure his alliance with the Night Court?

Beron only said, “I shall consider it.” A look at his family, and they vanished.

Eris stood behind just for few seconds, his eyes scanning all of us, his expression unreadable. His eyes fell on the pool in front of us, then on you and then on the pile of ashes beside him where his father had been seated. Something sparkled in his eyes as if he was understanding something, then with one last curious look toward you he vanished too.

You let out a breath you hadn't realize you were holding, and you seated on your chair again, feeling the tiredness that the leash of power left inside you. Your eyes fell on the pool, and, even if impossible, your blood froze.

There was no water left inside the pool.

That's what Eris had been looking. That's how powerful your flames had been. They had made the magic water evaporate into nothing. You looked over Thesan apogetically, but he just waved a hand as if to dismiss it while water appeared again.

At least now they know who is fighting with the humans. Maybe it was what they needed to convince themself, Rhys' voice appeared in your head with a calming tone, as if he had sensed your terror at what you have done.

What if I hurt someone of our army? You asked panicked in your head, trying to keep a neutral face while your sister was speaking to the High Lords.

I'll make sure it won't happen. Rhysand said firmly and yet kindly. I promise you.

[junedenim]

to say good night

sleep can happen anywhere

warnings: fluff, smut, blowie, piv, and raspberries

word count: 3.6k

You watched him make the bed. He was always slow and careful with this kind of thing. It was rhythmic, second nature to tuck the duvet under the mattress and fluff the pillows just right. It was weird for a man to be so careful after sex. The sheets had been a mess covered in each of you. He still spills out of you now, trapped by your underwear. You went to the bathroom to clean yourself but got trapped in the doorway watching this meticulous routine as he changed the navy blue sheets to baby blue ones. You wonder if he has any different coloured sheets or if they are all blue.

He's fixing the nightstand now. His alarm clock that your hand pushed off when he was going down on you. His spine curves, little rivets showing through the skin of his bare back. You get to drag your hand down it tonight when you lie side by side and go to bed with one another. Not just fucking bed but sleeping bed.

And he's so lovely. You're not sure you've ever seen something, especially a man so lovely as he sits down on the bed to fix the time on the clock. His eyes shine back at the glaring red digits. Your hand curls around the doorframe, trying not to give yourself away to him. He's so cautious when he knows he's being watched, but here, he's loose, uncaring, and serene, so serene.

His hair is a fluff mess. One that swirls and makes cascading waterfalls as it tries to fall forward on his face. He slightly jumps at the beeping noise the clock makes and a giggle escapes you, impossible to hold back at his cute, jolting, meticulous, lovely, serene self. No hand covering your mouth hides the giggle. His eyes snap up with the fear he's been caught out like you've accidentally caught him masturbating in his childhood bedroom, not fully grown fixing his alarm clock.

But then he releases, not everything, but just enough to lightly chuckle. "You snooping on me?"

Part of you wants to shrink behind the bathroom door and hide but his laughter is solaceful. "I'm just going to the bathroom," you say as you slowly shut the door.

He laughs, this time more boisterous. It's easy for him to let go when he's making fun of you. "Uh-huh, yeah, right."

"I swear!" You yell back through the closed door as you drop your panties and wipe him out of you (disgusting but not and that almost disgusts you more about how you can be so affected by a person that you start to cherish their semen) and dispose of it. Your cheeks are flushed red in the mirror and you splash water to temper the fire burning its way out.

Exiting the bathroom, he stands by the dresser having covered that gracious bare back with a T-shirt. It makes you want to yell at him for the crime he's committed. It was horrible that he covered his butt with his boxers but this. "Why'd you put a shirt on?"

Alex once again jumps at a surprising sound. He turns around and smirks. "Why'd you put a shirt on?" He counters.

Fair. But it's his shirt and your underwear, isn't that what most guys find sexy? He's in his pajamas, very cutely, but five minutes ago he was coming inside you so a tad more explicit behaviour tonight shouldn't be out of the question. So, if he needs something from you then you'll trail your hands down the shirt, fiddle with the bottom—teasing, of course—and take the garment off, dropping it at his feet as an offering.

His lust-filled eyes work as encouragement, straying you from an insecurity. His hands move from his side and meet the bottom of his shirt. He's slow, much more than you were. You ripped the Band-Aid off, and he's easing it slowly away from the skin. He nearly gets trapped in its collar and has to twist his head back and forth to withdraw from it. Then, he tosses it at your feet, a slight chuckle of embarrassment rippling through him. "Now get in bed," he tells you.

You look toward the pristine sight, something off of HGTV or an Ikea catalogue. "But I don't want to ruin it," you candidly reply. It even has one of those small useless pillows sitting there for merely display purposes.

He walks toward you. "Get in bed," he says with a smirk. He pats your ass giving a light squeeze to your right ass cheek before heading into the bathroom. You look behind you at the closed bathroom door and inch your way to the bed, carefully taking off the small useless pillow. You pull back the duvet and slide into the sea of blue and then you wait.

You see the light spilling out from the bottom crack of the bathroom door. You hear him turn on the sink, the sound of him brushing his teeth. The water shuts off but he doesn't come out immediately. He takes his time and you wish you could peek in on whatever he's doing. Washing his hands, styling his hair, psyching himself up in the mirror, whatever it may be you want to be witness to it.

The door clicks open and he walks out, making his way to the bed and under the covers. He pulls the blankets over both of you and moves close by means of huddling for warmth. Your nipples rub against the blanket, shielding them from his view, but not his imagination. "Are you cold?" He asks.

You shake your head but tighten your hold on the blanket. You are a little cold but mostly nervous, just a tad. He nods and you can see the hesitance spilling from him. There's something intimate about sex but in comparison to this, it's nothing. The personal laying of your figures side-by-side. Your boobs are exposed and his chest is so close your palm can almost touch it. Instead, you two sit in silence, scared to be the first to speak because it's the first time you've done this with each other. 

Because it's not just spending the night or a hook-up, it's something far greater that you can't name. Something you want to work so badly it could kill you. Because he's looking at you like that: eyes warm and shiny, perfect for falling into. Him. Him. Because he's right up against you without touching you and now you have to relinquish yourself to him in a far more vulnerable way than sex. But the idea of falling asleep in his arms seems so nice that you can't bear any distance, even if it is small. 

"Do you always make the bed like that?" You ask him. You relax down into the pillow, turning onto your side to face him more clearly.

His smile grows warmer and it makes your insides feel less cold. "No. I'm neat but I'm not that neat."

"Why'd you do it that way then? Special occasion?" You smile back knowingly. He's always been one for silent gestures. Only the little things you notice way down the line. The little things you know now and the ones you have yet to discover.

He blushes, turning bashfully away from you. "Maybe. Yeah. Thought I'd make it look more homely."

You giggle, not because it's very funny, but because he's very charming. Enough to make any girl giddy. "It looked more like a display room to me but it was very pretty to watch."

Alex turns onto his side now, smirking in such a delight that it pierces through you. "Yeah. And you like to do that stalking thing?"

You bite your lip from mild embarrassment and in an attempt to hide to smile he's forcing increasingly on your face. "You're very cute to watch. I'm sure you know that."

"Well..." He trails off but his hand moves under the covers, landing on the curve of your side, just under your ribs. He's delicate, not trying to make a big deal out of it, the same with everything he does. But you notice. It's hard not to notice that warm touch.

"I don't even think I made my bed this morning," you tell him. Not that it matters much when you're lying in his.

He chuckles and gradually leans closer and closer. "I like to be organized." That's plenty nice under these nice sheets but his lips are far greater as he comes toward yours. He hovers before latching on. It's a smooth grip, nothing harsh as you lock lips. Everything about it flows.

His hand moves up your figure, his thumb lightly caressing the bottom of your boob. Your hand steadies on his shoulder. He feels firm as your hand grazes down his arm before shifting over to his chest, feeling him beneath your hand.

The kissing becomes harsher, not aggressive, but determined passion from both sides. You were drawn together and it felt impossible to ignore, even as things became more rushed. You rolled over and he followed with his body on top. His hand massaged your side and your bodies smushed together, your boobs stuck in between each other in that small space.

"You just changed the sheets," you mumble in the chaos of attached lips.

His lips strayed, moving down from your lips, kissing your chin, and down the column of your neck on that tender part of your throat. "Fuck that. I don't care," Alex kissed into your skin. He paid tribute to your right collarbone, briefly sticking out his tongue and running a line across it. He kissed your shoulder and moved down further to your breasts. 

He licks his way to the nipple, already sensitive from the cold and rubbing up against him. Suddenly, he makes a loud smooching noise and blows a raspberry on it. It's ticklish, erupting impossible to avoid laughter as you push his head away from the affected spot.

"Stop it," you manage to get out. "So much for being sensual."

Alex kisses one of your ribs like it's him and it may be what created you. "I never promised sensuality."

"I thought you making out with my breasts implied that." He laughs and kisses the untouched boob. His lips hover like he's threatening to do it to the other one. "I'll leave if you do it again. What if someone did that to your dick?"

He thinks about it, tossing his head back and forth. "It'd probably feel good." His eyes look away like he’s imagining the pleasure.

Your hands reached down, snaking in between your two bodies. You grab a hold of the waistband of his boxers, snapping it against his skin. "You want to bet?" You push him onto his back, gazing down at him.

"You don't know men very well if you think the threat of a blowjob is gonna scare them off."

Still, you descend him. Your fingers dance on his hip bone. He delightfully protrudes onto you. He conflicts with himself whether to revel in the feeling with his head on the pillow or watch you as you tease him. His eyes remain on you as your pointer finger grasps onto the elastic of his boxers. Edging him in anticipation. A dance between the dainty and the robust. 

You send him a mocking grin, displaying your teeth, latching onto that waistband, dragging it slowly, revealing the bottom portion of his stomach before stopping. You kissed the newly exposed skin as he sucks in a breath like he hasn't taken one in minutes. You press your face into him. Your nose inhaling him into you, the smell of him plain, only a simple bar of soap has passed this area. Yet, however plain, it calms you. You wish to rest your head here for a little while, maybe fall asleep here because he isn't restless here. This is where things calm.

You resume. Your hands drift further down, dipping into his boxers, giving a slight touch to him. Your hands are cold against the warm skin. It might turn him on even more. Finally, you pull his boxers down fully, letting his erection pop out on display. Your hand grabs a hold of it. He shivers from the cold, anticipation, and the soon-to-be relief.

You hold him carefully in your hand like you're observing him scientifically. You need to cover every surface with your eyes, every vein needs to be noted, and the way he twitches should be put in the records. "Come on," he just barely mutters.

It's the complete opposite from earlier when he was quick with you. When you were messy with each other. When alarm clocks were pushed on the floor and sheets were left with no choice but to wash. You're careful now, if not, torturous. Alas, you lick up the side of him to the tip. Your tongue grazes over the slit, enjoying the way it makes him stiff. 

You seal a kiss on it before your mouth covers the top of him. You suck on him, pleasurable for both him and you. Then, you blow a raspberry on him. You wish to capture the way he wiggles around and groans but you're too busy laughing at him. "How was that?"

Alex brings a hand to his head. He rubs his fingers between his eyebrows to calm that distress in him. "Not very sensual." You share a laugh before taking him off guard with how quickly you return to the task at (or in your) hand. 

You stroke him, moving the salvia from the top down to lubricate the bottom. Your mouth covers him again, but this time takes him fully in a slow controlled manner. The pressure pushes against your throat as your nose rubs that spot on his stomach again. You pull yourself off, wiping the string of spit that connects you. Your hand continues its work as you kiss his hip, then the top of his thigh, then his pelvis, then his penis.

His hand stops you from taking him completely in your mouth again. "Get on me."

"What?" You question.

"Let me fuck you again." He's almost begging, his eyes fluttering shut and his grasp on your upper arm strengthening. "Please."

"What about the bed?" It was so nice moments ago but the blankets have been thrown and the sheets exposed, a trace of your spit already covering them.

He shakes his head on the pillow, trying not to lose the moment. He pinches that glabella. "Let's just fuck on the fucking floor."

You hesitate on the bed but he's quick, already has his knees pressed on the cold wood floors. He reaches a hand up to you, which you take, kicking your feet out and meeting him on the floor. "I'm gonna get a splinter from this."

He laughs, placing his hands on your waist, his thumb stroking up and down. "How do you want to do this?" He doesn't hesitate, dragging your panties off as soon as he can.

"I don't know. It was your idea. Just fuck me, I guess."

"Okay," he mutters like he's still trying to figure it out himself. He looks around, trying to place the space on the floor, and then kisses you, overpowering you. You're on your back, your shoulders grazing the floor's rug. You could start a fire with the way your skin brushes against it. You clutch his neck to grasp on something desperately as he moves himself through your folds, soaked up in you.

Now, it's sensual as he eases slowly into you. It's barely anything but then it's barely nothing. Everything is touched and you were just like this less than an hour ago but it already feels different. The way his eyes land on you is much softer and his touch is caring. There's no rushing, roughness, or scratching. It's tender, graceful, and clutching. He's powering but not overtly. His hips snap but not aggressively.

It's fulfilling. He kisses every nerve ending in you. It's making love in all those stupid, cheesy, romance movie kind of ways but it's him and it's you, something yet to fully be explored and you get to be a first-hand witness to every touch he lands on you. His thumb strokes you so carefully but it lights you up completely. 

You arch up into him and you know he's much closer than you are, so, you reach up and smooth your hand over his cheek before wrapping your arm around his neck. You whisper into his ear for him to let go and give himself over to you. It's late and tiring, it's like falling asleep in each other's arms as he lets go into you.

Everything in him is sensitive. He shudders as everything comes over him. He buries his head into your neck, rubbing his nose against your jugular. Your hand runs through his hair as he groans the last bits of relief into your skin. It's content. Your heart rates settle against one another as if you're beating in time with one another. 

Alex starts to move again, even slower than before, but he's not willing to let this go. He doesn't like it just being about him. He doesn't like all that attention. So, he gives it, gives it all over, fucking you with the remnants of him still inside you. 

His overstimulation settles as he begins to rush forward. The thumb stroking picks up right over your clit and it's cold hands on warm flesh. It's so divine, an enhancement. It's not just a regular touch, it's an imprint as the cold seeps into you and he drives himself into you. He groans and you moan but it's all whispers for just one another. No soul will ever hear each other this way because it's never been like this before and you're not sure it will ever be like this again, even with him. It's a sliver of time for just the two of you.

Each of your breathing grows heavy and your hips lift. It all moves quicker and you can feel the rug burn forming on your skin as you come. It overrides anything. You clutch onto him in any way possible. Your hands in his hair, your legs around his waist, him still sitting inside you. It's a release. Completely. 

When everything relaxes just enough, your grasp loosens and he rolls beside you onto his back. You tilt your head slightly up to look at his profile, even with barely any light in the room it's scenic. It's like looking out at the ocean from the cliff. 

He has steadied himself when he turns his head over to meet your eyes. "Good?" It could mean a number of things. If you're okay, if the sex was okay, if you're alright staying here on the floor forever.

Either way, you are. "Good," you answer in the affirmative. You reach out to him, pushing his hair back so you can get the best view of his eyes. "You?"

Alex nods. His eyes are obviously tired, fluttering with the wind. "We should get back in bed."

"Or stay here for a minute more," you suggest because the moment will be gone, ending forever, the second you stand up from this small cocoon of space.

He doesn't reject the idea. His body is so relaxed against the wood. "When I was younger," he tells you, "I used to sleep on the floor because I was scared of my bed."

It's a privilege to know these small stories about him. To run your fingers through his hair as he tells you a childhood story that has him smiling. "Why?" You ask.

Alex shifts closer, his arm landing over your waist. He tugs you closer to him as if he wants to absorb you, live in one body with you. It almost feels like that in this small space where your breaths duel one another. "I don't know. It was my first big kid bed. I think I thought monsters lived in there."

You squint. "So you slept closer to where they lived under your bed?"

He chuckles and gives a light squeeze to your side. "I was four, I had no logic."

You recall, "I used to just sleep in my parents' room. Might've caused their divorce." Your hand drifts away from his hair and down to his back, at long last rubbing down his spine, feeling those notches in him. If he sleeps on his stomach, you might wake him up tomorrow by kissing your way down those vertebrae.

"Why?" He questions just like you.

"They could never have sex 'cause I was in there all the time." There's laughter shared, an increased amount, maybe because you just had sex and you'll have plenty more sex but for now you'll lie here. You want to squeeze him in between your fingers, pinch a piece off of him, and carry it around with you in your bag, in your pocket, in your skin.

His hand moves to your back, moving along your spine, massaging the muscles around it. "I walked in on them once. I think I'll take your side of things," he said. He pulled a disgusted face before dusting a smile. "I thought they were wrestling."

Your laughter is loud, infectious and it makes him laugh too and you'll get up off the floor at some point but for now, you'd like to stay here in a world with just the two of you.

*

a/n: i like this one. maybe because i was more relaxed when i wrote it. excuse yet another 'perfect sense' title, it just fits so well. thanks, bye.

[itsmrshamilton]

No Apologies (2)| LH44

summary: the aftermath of the fallout between Lewis and Y/n. Are they willing to apologise and make up?

a/n: sorry it took so long. please engage before you leave!

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"Mummy?" Called Leo from the backseat. His black curls were a mess from playing with them. Something he did when he got really bored or annoyed.

"Yes, my sweets?" Y/n looked up to see him in the rearview mirror.

"Is Auntie Sofie going to have popcorn there?"

"Yes, my sweets."

"And rice cakes?"

"Yes."

"And ice lollies?"

"Yes, Leo."

"What about-"

"Leo, Sofie always has your favourite snacks can you drop it!"

Leo stared at her in the mirror before jutting his bottom lip out and turning to the window. The cutest pout she's ever seen but her frustration and guilt didn't allow her to let it stick around.

She sighed to herself. He was just trying to keep himself entertained. Unfortunately, she was too overwhelmed to do that right now. "I'm sorry. Leo. Leo, look at me. Mummy's sorry about that. We'll get to Auntie Sofie's place soon, then you can ask her if she's got everything. Okay?"

Parenting definitely isn't for the weak. He stayed silent for a minute, still pouting violently.

"Okay."

It was the kind of home Y/n grew up wanting for herself. She'd spoken to Sofie about it during many childhood sleepovers. 12 years ago, she could have been upset that Sofie got to buy it first if it weren't for the fact that she had met Lewis by that point and moved into his luxurious Monaco apartment.

The rest of the drive there was quiet except for a few sniffles from Leo. He wouldn't meet her eye in the mirror and continued to stare out the window til he fell asleep. Sofie's house was 2 hours away, but it was the only place she could go in order to take some time to think. The sky had changed to a light orange by the time she got there.

One couldn't tell that the small house actually had three bedrooms inside as well as a large living area and a small garden at the back.

The door to the yellow house opened and Sofie came rushing down the path to the car. There were rollers in her black hair and her oversized shirt flapped in her haste. Y/n knew she didn't care what her neighbours thought - she probably walked to the nearest shop like this often.

"How dare you interrupt my evening plans with your emergency call." She grinned when she came to a stop on the sidewalk.

"What evening plans? Curling up on your dirty old couch with one of your dirty old cats to binge murder documentaries?" Y/n teased in return. Her own smirk twitching in amusement.

"Yeah! Best part of my week!" They laughed at that and hugged tightly. Sofie was the first to pull away and placed her hands on her hips. "Need me to go there and kick him out?"

Y/n sighed loudly. "Yes, no, I don't know yet. I just need to think."

Sofie rolled her eyes. "That's all you ever do when it come to Lewis. Think, think, think. There's never any action - proper action to sit and communicate. Look what it's led to."

"I don't want this lecture outside, Sof. Grab something to make yourself useful." She turned to the car to open Leo's door.

"How about I grab my best boy and you can carry in the rest, yeah?" She unbuckled a sleeping Leo then scooped him up and carried him inside, cooing as she went. They loved each other greatly.

Y/n watched in slight annoyance before grabbing the bags, locking and heading inside. Staying with Sofie was always a treat. They didn't get to live together during childhood due to Sofie being a product of an affair between her mother, Devi, and Y/n's father long before Y/n was even born. Everything ended messily when Y/n's mum, LeAnn, found out and demanded he cut all contact. But it only got worse a couple of years later when Devi turned up at the house with a very young Sofie and demanded a paternity test. LeAnn was nearly 9 months pregnant.

"So, what happened?" Sofie interrupted Y/n's thoughts once they were inside and settled. She was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Oh, uh, he came home at 1 this morning instead of last night. No messages, no call-"

"What an arse." Sof mumbled into her drink.

"We argued in the afternoon about him not being around, me wanting a different life and other dumb shit we've been over before."

"Y'know, I have never heard you say that you sat down and talked things over. It's always either him starting shit at the worst moments, or you." Sofie pointed out.

"Me?? I don't start arguments." Y/n sat up in surprise.

"Y/n." Sofie deadpanned.

"What? I don't!"

Sofie rolled her eyes at her sister's denial and took another sip. Before stretching out in search of comfort. "See, this is why you two won't work. Neither one of you wants to take the blame or understand that both of you are the problem!"

Y/n stayed silent as she stroked the cat on her lap. She wasn't a problem. If Lewis just stopped doing things to annoy her then she wouldn't get annoyed and argue with him.

"I never once saw mum and daddy argue. Did you know that? Their marriage was a mess, they didn't sleep in the same bed, they rarely did nice things for each other but they never argued in front of me. I grew up thinking my family was normal.

Lewis plans these grand dates involving yachts and passports, fucks me til my soul leaves my body and gets me flowers twice a week. Yet we manage to fight almost daily. How is my marriage worse than my parents?" She was crying uglily by the end of her rant. Pathetically wiping at her wet cheeks and hiccupping to get the words out. Sofie pulled her close and rubbed her back while the cat now annoyed by the noise scurried away.

"Oh, my sweet Y/n." Her heart ached for her little sister who spent all her life trying to please people.

"We try to not do it in front of Leo or raise our voices when he's in the house but he knows. He knows something is wrong and I don't want that. I don't want him to hate us, Sof." More sobbing and coughing. Sof grimaced slightly. Y/n had always been an ugly crier but she still wasn't used to it.

"Y/n, Leo is a loving child who sees no wrong in anyone because you two raised him that way. He won't hate you for trying to hold things together for him if you have genuine intentions." Sofie sat Y/n up and held her shoulders. "But if you're really so worried about how it affects him then maybe you should divorce."

Y/n sat straighter at this. Yes, she had kind of threatened Lewis with one but she didn't really think they'd go through with it. She thought a long break was what the relationship needed then she would go back and all would be fixed. But at the same time, she wanted things to end here as they are without seeing each other again.

Sofie watched her sister absorb her words and process. Her eyebrows met and temporarily hid the scar she'd gotten when Sof threw a toy at her in a fit of rage. Blood had dribbled down her small face ruined her clothes while Sofie had burst into tears and scrambled to get their dad. LeAnn demanded Devi keep her away from the house for weeks and the girls weren't allowed to play unsupervised again. Y/n forgave Sofie immediately with a gentle hug but 30 years later, LeAnn hadn't.

Sofie had a rough childhood. Growing up with a single mother, a guilt-ridden father and his spiteful wife wasn't easy and she ended up struggling with relationships in her teenagerhood and adulthood. Y/n was the only person she could rely on and give her all to. She hated to see her suffer but more than that, she hated watching Leo grow up in the middle of this. No child deserved an unstable home and Sofie refused to allow Y/n to do so when she had the resources and support to prevent it. Leo deserved a better life even if it came at the expense of her sister's marriage.

"Y/n? Did you hear me?"

"Hm? Yeah. I just-"

"Mummy?" Leo stood by the doorway rubbing his small eyes.

Y/n made her way to him and hoisted him into her arms. "Let's go have a bath, my sweets. Then we can have a yummy supper with Auntie Sofie, okay?"

"Okay." He replied hoarsely and lay his head on her shoulder.

Once he was bathed and moisturised, Leo sat on the bed and pulled his clothes on, struggled all the way after confidently claiming he could do it himself. Y/n watched on amusement as he moved onto his socks despite his pajama pants being backwards.

"Mummy?" He took a break from his exhausting task.

"Yes, my sweets?"

"When we wake up here at Auntie Sofie's, will daddy be here?" His brown eyes shone brightly with innocence.

Y/n did her best to think of an answer without showing her annoyance at the fact that her son was so used to going to bed without his father but knowing he'd be there in the morning. She did all the hard work through-out the day, taking tantrums and accidents as they came just for Lewis to be the one to be showered with kisses and praises the next morning when Leo awoke.

"We'll be staying at Aunt Sofie's for some time, my Leo. Just you and me." He looked down sadly and Y/n could basically see the gears turning in his mind. His thinking face was exactly like Lewis' - eyes squint, lips pulled to one side, puffed out cheeks.

"So no daddy?" He whispered.

"No daddy for now, okay?" She placed a kiss on his forehead and helped him off the bed. He slowly shuffled to the dining room.

Later that night she pulled the duvet over Leo and his toys in the queen size bed. Supper had gone down without a fuss from him and now he was buzzing with excitement to call his father. Y/n handed him her phone with the contact on screen and moved out of frame.

"Here you go, press call. Yes, that one." They video called Lewis often enough that Leo knew how to handle the device so his dad could see all of him and his toys therefore he could say goodnight to everyone.

The phone rang once before being answered. Y/n smiled sadly at her husband's eagerness.

"Daddy!" Greeted Leo. He gripped the phone with two small hands and a big grin that showed every tooth and gap.

"Hello, my boy! You look nice and cozy. Are all your teddies tucked in proper?" The two went on to talk about Leo's stuffed companions, his night with Nathan and his week at school. Lewis wasn't just catching up on the day but also the week he missed. Y/n could see how happy he was to listen to Leo stutter and ramble his way through the stories. His brown eyes were bright, framed beautifully by lashes and crow's feet. His smile was wide, spreading further to laugh at Leo's jokes. But Y/n could also see how much he was hurting during this experience. His beautiful lashes wet from crying earlier, his lips slightly chapped from lack of self-care and his throat moving constantly to swallow the lump that was no doubt sitting there. It hurt her too to see him pain but she pushed it down by thinking of the many times he couldn't see her pain because he was too far from home.

"Daddy, mummy said you won't be coming to Auntie Sofie's. Why won't you come? When will I see you?" Leo's voice trembled slightly and Y/n froze. She didn't mean to phrase in such a way that Leo thought it was all Lewis' fault- well, technically it was but she didn't want Leo blaming his father. Not at this age anyways. She watches as Lewis sits in baffled silence before attempting to answer his sweet son in a reassuring way. If Y/n wasn't mature enough to not talk shit about him in front of their son then he would be the bigger person and go about this nicely.

"Champ, I promise I'll take you to school on Monday, okay? We can spend some time after school as well. How's that?" Leo smiled happily at that and Lewis felt a light weight lift off his shoulders. "Okay, well, it's 8 now. Time for bed, yeah?"

"Goodnight, daddy." Leo let his father bid him and each of his toys goodnight and then passed the phone on to his mum. She pressed kisses to his brown cheeks and left the room. She took a breath to compose herself she lifted the phone to talk to her husband. He opened his mouth but she quickly cut him off.

"You can't take him on Monday." She said sternly. His face dropped.

"Y/n, come on. No. Y/n, you can't do that to me, please. Please. You just heard me promise him that." She watched him beg with a stern expression. He looked like he was on the verge of falling apart. In front of their child he had held it all together -put on the performance of the century. But here, in front of the woman he hurt, he sniffled and grasped for straws. She wasn't impressed.

"We're two hours away, Lewis. School won't work so I'm going to let Leo stay home for the week while I look for a local school to move him to."

Lewis was shocked to silence as a tear rolled down his face. "Why would you uproot his life this, Y/n!? This isn't fair!"

She furrowed her brows at the volume of his voice. She had a lot to say about things that were and weren't fair. But before she could list them, he began shouting some more. "I- I understand that you're upset and you have every right to be but Leo shouldn't suffer because of that. You can't punish him."

"I'm not punishing him." She grew more frustrated.

"So you're punishing me?" He asked angrily, more tears.

"I'm not punishing anyone! I'm trying to make the best decision for him while dealing with everything that went down. Your house is empty because of what you did. This is not punishment, this is the consequence of your actions so maybe you should have that about Leo suffering before you ruined our marriage!" She's trembling and she's sure everyone in the house heard everything she just yelled.

Lewis scoffed before ending the call.

Y/n spent the next hour crying in Sofie's arms on the couch. She hadn't gone back to Leo's room to check on him and soothe him just in case he was upset by the call. She couldn't handle seeing him cry for his father right now. She couldn't handle being the bad guy to him. Sofie's hand on her back made it all a little easier to deal with. The purring cat on her lap didn't hurt either. She stroked its soft back gently while she sniffled and tried to find her words.

"Y/n, I don't want to make the decision for you." Sofie started. Y/n looked up into her sister's golden eyes, slightly scrunched due to the sad smile on her face. "But Leo should not be caught in the crossfire. And I know you know that."

"But I can't stay with Lewis, Sof. I can't be like mum and force my marriage to work." Y/n whispered. The thought of living with Lewis again made her scared for many reasons.

Sofie shook her head and brushed aside the black strand that came loose. "Your mum didn't force her marriage in order to create a good life for you. She did it so she wouldn't look like a bad wife to others. She wanted our dad to be the only person who wrong and immoral in the relationship."

Y/n felt her eyes tear up once more from the memories of her childhood with her mum who did everything in her power to keep things normal. Eventually it all fell apart and Y/n didn't want that for herself. She didn't want that for Leo.

"You'll only hurt Leo if you try to make yourself blameless in this situation. I don't care if neither one of you apologises and you end up dragging each other's arses kicking and screaming to every court in this country, as long as you put that sweet little boy first."

Y/n heard the slight tremor in her sister's voice and finally realised how this all affected her. All this time she'd been thinking of herself and her hate for the man she married while ignoring the bigger pain this was causing her son and sister. Her loving sister who never blamed her for being the treasured daughter in their chaotic household. Her loving sister who sheltered her from her Lee-Ann's nasty behaviour towards herself and never spoke badly of Lee-Ann in front of Y/n. Her loving sister who soaked up every miniscule second she got with her father but also happily allowed for Y/n to spend those limited moments with them.

Y/n lunged forward to give Sofie the biggest hug ever. She'd take Sofie's advice and think things over. The cat in her lap meowed unhappily at its new position squashed between the two women. They pulled away giggling.

"I love you, Sof." Y/n smiled using her sleeve to wipe her tears

"I love you too so stop getting your snot on my furniture." Y/n giggled and sniffled. "If you're really interested in the local schools, I'll give you a list of the good private ones. Too many of them are run by cunts with tight g-strings."

"Sofie!"

"What?? It's true, they wear them to keep the sticks up their arse in place." She picked up her drink.

"You're so mean, oh my gosh." Y/n laughed.

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On Sunday evening, Lewis was in the kitchen using the island as a desk for all his stuff - files, folders and his laptop. He'd even brought the printer down from the study because he couldn't stand to be upstairs while the house was this empty.

He reached for document being printed- an email from his lawyer helping him gear up for the divorce. He'd been on a call earlier with his accountant to start discussions about what would need to be done once the divorce papers were written up. He didn't want to do any of this. After the call with Leo and Y/n, he had cried himself to sleep on the couch. He had woken up very early on Sunday morning to a horrid headache and a worse heartache. As the day went on, his sadness turned to anger as he thought about everything. He refused to let Y/n make him feel this way and to take his boy from him like this. He'd then called his father who arranged to meet with him for lunch on Monday but suggested Lewis talk to a lawyer in the mean time to see what his options were. Lewis was more than grateful for his dad's support. He cherished the bond they had and the work they had put in to make everything work in the end. Y/n was well offside for the shit she had said about them, he thought. She would pay for every word that came out her mouth.

As soon as the printing machine stopped, the front door opened. His heart was hammering in his chest as he took tentative steps to investigate. He stared in disbelief, not sure what to do now.

Y/n stood at the door with a sleeping Leo snoring into the crook of his neck. Her lips trembled as she took a shallow breath.

"I'm sorry."

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Welp, now what?? This is not the end. Part 3 out soon.

Thanks for reading this far! Please don't forget to engage before you leave. (Asking to be tagged is not encouraged)

I do not consent to my work being uploaded onto another site or being altered, translated, fed to AI sites or stolen!!

[crimsoncandy04]

The cucking scara is so hot, I'd like to see more😍😍😍

Wanderer had been at this stupid game of his for hours now and while his former self had suffered great humiliation from it, you felt like you were the one who actually got the short end of the stick.

Fucked, teased, overstimulated, used, etc. Wanderer had basically turned you into just another tool to punish Scaramouche for his sins.

And even now that you were sure an entire day had gone by, Wanderer was still nowhere close to finished it would seem.

Both you and Scaramouche had had your arms bound behind your backs in the most uncomfortable way as Wanderer kept a fist in either of your hair and held both of you in place on your knees.

You licked the base of his cock and trailed your tongue slowly up his shaft as Scaramouche swirled against Wanderer's soft pink tip with his. You'd tease at his balls while Scaramouche would take him ever so slightly between his lips and suck now and then too.

This has gone on for a while now. With both of you being forced to worship Wanderer's cock as if it were the most pristine phallus in existence and after everything else before this, you were now tired and a little angry.

Why did Wanderer have to drag you into this shit show?

Because he had once liked you a little when he himself was originally Scaramouche?

Apparently it meant nothing now if he was just going to keep abusing you like this to piss off his other self.

Suddenly Wanderer's sharp gaze met yours. A flicker of sympathy briefly crossed his eyes as he saw your exhausted and unhappy expression before he pushed it away and gave you a rather smug look.

"I always knew you'd look so beautiful like this Y/N. Face a wreck, kneeling before me." His fingers in your hair loosened a little as he pulled you to your feet suddenly and slid his arm down to your lower back. He urged you closer to him and before you could process what was happening, Wanderer had forced his lips against yours.

"You piece of shi-" Scaramouche briefly tried to protest before Wanderer shoved his entire length down his throat. Silencing him before he could say more.

Wanderer then began to move his hips a little as he fucked into Scara's mouth while kissing you.

His tongue teased your bottom lip, softly asking for permission to enter before gently pushing in and meeting yours in a passionate manner.

This was the nicest he had been to you since you were brought here by him. You didn't know why he was trying to suddenly get all lovey dovey with you but you didn't want it.

Wanderer could tell.

And he was NOT happy about it.

But it had been his fault after all. Hadn't it? He had been about to confront his former identity before suddenly getting this idea and summoning you there but did he ever stop and think about how this may have effected you?

Not really.

He had to change his focus.

Instead of punishing Scaramouche he would work on pleasuring you next.

That other useless version of him could wait for now.

Channeling the power of anemo Wanderer was able to send Scaramouche tumbling backwards in an instant with his cock slipping from his mouth with a wet popping sound as he hit the ground.

Next Wanderer used his vision to create small "rings " of a sort that whirled around Scaramouche's wrists and ankles at a speed that made them appear completely still as they held him in place on the floor.

Once Scaramouche was safely restrained Wanderer then began to lavish attention on you.

He continued to support your back as his other hand came up tangle itself in your hair again as he held you close.

You could feel his hardness against your exposed pussy that remained unclothed and still dripping from earlier torments as Wanderer slowly continued to make out with you there for a few minutes before sending you tumbling on your back too.

You landed with a small thud next to Scaramouche and tried for a second to sit up but Wanderer had speed that surpassed human beings and in the blink of an eye he was on you.

"Shh, relax Y/N. I want you to enjoy this part a little." He purred as he pulled your knees further apart and positioned himself between them.

Wanderer kisses you again. Moving down then as he left a small trail from your neck to your chest. Stopping as he got to your breasts and grasping one in the palm of his hand. He took the other in his mouth, gently sucking on the sensitive flesh of your nipple and causing you to cry out a little as his teeth nibbled softly in between careful licks.

"They're so sensitive Y/N. And big too. Almost like they were made for this. Made for me~" Wanderer teased as he continued to play with you. Scaramouche grunted a little beside you as he tried to avert his gaze but his excruciating erection underneath his clothes gave away his true desires.

Wanderer was being uncharacteristically nice and it bothered you.

What was he planning?

You could feel his cock at your entrance then.

You felt your body tense up.

Not again.

Wanderer just smirked at you.

"You should have known that I was going to do this Y/N."

He slid his cock into your tight cunt easily. You gasped softly.

"Don't act so surprised. You know you're the most important thing to me."

Wanderer begins to thrust into you. He starts slow until he finds your sweet spot. Then he begins to move a little faster. Hitting your g spot with reckless abandon as his words fell upon your ears like a forbidden truth.

"So in having you like this... maybe I'll finally be able to reach the deepest depths of my being..."

You moan loudly as Wanderer holds you close and continues to pound into you as Scaramouche looks on longingly from beside you. He looks like he's absolutely seething as a wet spot forms upon the fabric of his shorts. Yet Wanderer shows no mercy as he continues to fuck into your pussy while Scaramouche lays next to you both bitter and aroused.

"and finally get a message through to myself"

Wanderer held you in a tight embrace as he slammed into you. Keeping his eyes on Scaramouche who seemed to finally realize that it was pointless to protest at this point and silently waited for Wanderer to finish with you.

You would be fucked for most of the night. Your belly swollen ever so slightly after Wanderer finally gets bored from how much he would ejaculate into your womb as he forced Scaramouche to listen to it all unable to have you himself.

It was a twisted revenge.

A lustful act of self hatred that you were now the key in.

How long Wanderer would want to keep it going?

You were unsure.

Perhaps as long as it took him to finally forgive himself for everything he had destroyed in his existence.

[untildawnss]

until dawn characters overhearing their partner say something positive about them/their relationship

okiedokie [cracks knuckles] i had a shower to wash away the sad and now i'm ready to write the good - this took a good while because i was watching a show while writing lol

this is going to be fluff, i'll find out if anything else happens while writing this. very minor angsty and nsfw mentions.

ashley

"i don't think i've ever loved anyone as much as i love ashley. i still get butterflies when i look at her."

you tossed your phone towards ashley so she could order pizza while you were busy writing an assignment on your laptop. when she unlocked it, the chat with your best friend was still open, your last text the one about ashley. "i didn't know you were a big ol' sap." ashley shifted on the couch and leaned her head against your shoulder. "huh?" you stopped typing and furrowed your brow. "what are you talking about?" - "oh, just that text about me you sent earlier." she was already scrolling through the menu, looking for your favourite pizza. "were you snooping?" - "i didn't have to. you never close your apps." you nodded your head. it was true, you never did. "i get butterflies, too. ever since we met. maybe we're soulmates." she leaned in to kiss you.

beth

"hannah, oh my god, i'm so happy to see you. did you know that i love beth soooooo much? she's the best. i want to marry her. do you think she would want to marry me?"

beth tried to interrupt your drunken ramblings. her twin sister was on the couch next to you, snoring, and you had woken up while she was trying to clear the empty pizza boxes from the coffee table. you had immediately pulled her into a tight hug and happily babbled on about beth for a minute until you fell asleep again. beth carefully removed herself from your arms and decided that she wasn't really in the mood to clean up after you and hannah, you were perfectly capable of doing that yourself in the morning. and she was only a little offended that you had mistaken her for her sister. it was kind of fun to know how you talked about her when you thought she wasn't there.

chris

"josh, chris just texted me 'can we talk?' and i am freaking out. is he breaking up with me? please tell me he's not breaking up with me. he's honestly the best boyfriend i've ever had and i-"

josh groaned. "i told him not to text you that. chris, what's wrong with you?" you heard some crinkling, the muffled sounds of josh and chris whispering and then what sounded like a slap before josh let you know that he was handing the phone over to chris now. "hey, sorry about that. josh's hand and the back of my head just had a meet and greet." - "good for you? what the fuck was that text about, chris?" more whispering. "chris?" - "yeah, sorry. so remember how you just said that i'm the best boyfriend ever?" you sighed. "looking back, i probably wouldn't have said it if i had known you were listening." chris cleared his throat. "well, actually, i was thinking that you're the best partner i've ever had and i wanted to ask you to move in with me and so i decided to send you a text to ask you to talk about it." - "can you actually put josh back on for a second?" whispering again, until you heard josh's voice. "what's up?" - "can you tell chris that i love him and will move in with him but that he seriously needs to work on the way he brings up serious topics?"

emily

"you might not like her but i love her. she's the best thing that ever happened to me and if you just bothered to get to know her, you'd know that she's actually smart and funny and great. she actually shows up for me, do you?"

emily knew that your family hated her. they saw her as a stuck-up mean girl with expensive tastes and were worried that she was just using you until someone better came along. she hated that her relationship with you was causing all these fights with your family because they thought they knew better. this was the worst fight you'd ever had with them and she'd never heard you yell like that. "no, i'm done talking. don't bother calling again until you accept that i'm an adult and make my own decisions." emily heard you swearing before you knocked on the bedroom door and walked in. you were half-dressed, the original plan had been to go out for dinner. emily was still sitting in front of her vanity, absent-mindedly twirling a blending brush between her fingers. your phone buzzed again. "i swear to god," you muttered through clenched teeth as you declined the call. "rain check?" emily asked, already putting away the brush and looking for her make up wipes. "please." she looked at you through the mirror. "i'm sorry for asking but i think i need help getting out of this dress." - "oh, so you're flirting with me? right now?" you couldn't help but smile. "if you want me to. or you could just tell me how smart and funny and great i am while i order dinner." - "i can do that."

hannah

"dear hannah, your glasses are very cute and look really good on you. you have a really pretty face and i have a crush on you."

"dear hannah, do you want to go out with me?"

"dear hannah, you were really good as juliet in the senior year play."

"oh my god, what's this?" hannah picked up the loose papers that had slid all over the wooden floor of the living room in your new apartment. "what? oh, oh no. i thought i'd thrown those away. they're so old." - "i didn't know you had a crush on me back in high school. wow, we really could have gotten together years ago." you were on your hands and knees, trying to grab the old, unfinished love letters you had never had the courage to slip into hannah's locker or bag. "what? you liked me in high school?" - "who did you think sent you all those valentines? i didn't know you liked my glasses back then." before long both of you were on the floor, reminiscing about all the near confessions you had accidentally dodged.

jess

"we'd love to go out for drinks with you guys, but i have plans with my super hot girlfriend and i wouldn't miss it for the world and she has plans with me. oops, putting our phones on do not disturb now."

you sent the text to the group chat and turned to jess. the two of you were on the couch, wearing sweatpants and facemasks. numerous candles were illuminating the living room and there was a romcom playing on the TV. "super hot girlfriend, is that right?" jess was smiling, the hydrating sheet mask wrinkling and folding around her mouth. "oh, very." you were sipping wine through a straw. "and you'd rather be at home doing skincare and watching a movie with me?" - "are you kidding me? i get to have a few drinks, hang out with my favourite person in the world AND wake up with great skin. what more could a person want?" - "you're not so bad yourself."

josh

"ugh, i know, right? he's smart, he's hot, he's kinda weird but in that cute and quirky way and when i look at him, i want to start writing poems or love songs. it's actually disgusting how perfect i think he is."

josh and you were at a bar with a group of friends and while josh had gone to get more drinks and a few others were playing pool, one of them had taken the opportunity to tease you about the way the two of you adored each other. neither of you didn't realise that josh was already on his way back to the table and heard every word you said. he stopped for a few seconds to compose himself, thinking that you'd probably be embarrassed if you knew that he heard you talking about him. the rest of the night, josh was in a, to you, inexplicably good mood but when you asked what had him smiling like that he said that he was just having fun. you narrowed your eyes and looked at him, suspiciously. "what did you do?" - "nothing, i swear." a few hours later you were on your way home, your hand in josh's while he was swinging them back and forth. "what is up with you today? i could pass out right here and now. how are you not tired?" josh's smile was as wide as ever. "it's nothing, really. i'm just happy i met you."

matt

"i wouldn't dream of breaking uncle matt's heart. pinkie promise. when we get married you can be flower girls."

matt's nieces had begged you to play tea party with them. they were extraordinarily good at offering you tea while giving you the third degree. yes, i love your uncle matt a lot. yes, i hope your uncle matt loves me, too. yes, we live together. no, i won't break up with uncle matt. you thought meeting matt's parents for the first time would be intimidating. his nieces were almost terrifying. finally, matt came to save you when they started asking about babies. you waved goodbye to the girls. "so it's when, not if we get married?" you looked at matt and your heart skipped a beat, he was smiling warmly. "well, i mean, i guess-" you sputtered. "wait, you were listening and you let them interrogate me?" - "oh, do you want to go back and tell them how many kids we're gonna have?"

mike

"yes, i know he's handsome. like absolute dreamboat, straight out of a disney movie handsome."

"oh, you better watch your mouth, that's my boyfriend you're talking about."

"oh no, he's an only child. but i think he has cousins. doubt he left any hot for the rest of them, though."

you hadn't heard mike come home and he was trying really hard to respect your privacy but the bedroom door was ajar and you were always louder when you were talking on the phone, especially when talking to your best friend whom he was due to meet this upcoming weekend. and he couldn't deny it, he was curious what you had to say about him. mike pushed the bedroom door open slowly, you had your back to him and were scrolling on your phone with your earphones in. "busy?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe and grinning widely when you jumped and almost tumbled off the bed. "what the fuck, mike? when did you get here?" you said a quick goodbye to your friend and put your phone on the bedside table. "oh, not that long ago." he crossed his arms, still grinning at you. "but go on, what were you saying about me?" mike inched towards the bed, his face now scrunched up in mock-confusion. "something about me being super hot, i think." - "i never said super hot." he put the back of his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes, feigning hurt this time. "you wound me." then, before you knew it, he was straddling you, his lips barely an inch from yours as he was running his hands down your sides, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "guess i'll have to change your mind, then."

sam

"my girlfriend just opened her own gallery and i'm super proud of her. do you have anything on the menu that's fancy and says 'i love you so much, you're gonna do great' and, most importantly, is also vegan? is champagne vegan? do you have vegan champagne?"

sam heard you whispering to the hostess as she walked through the doors behind you. so that's why you wanted her to park the car. she smiled at the hostess and rolled her eyes slightly, affectionately, pointed and you and then at herself while mouthing i'm the girlfriend. the hostess nodded and asked you to wait just a few more minutes, your table was almost ready. "you know i'm just a cog in the machine and the gallery isn't actually my own, right?" sam had sauntered over and was looking at you with one eyebrow raised in amusement. "you're still an active partner and the face of the gallery. so why bother explaining?" - "oh, i'm not complaining. just wondering if you hit your head. but now i don't feel bad about letting you wine and dine me."

[fishysaltine]

Honestly I’ve always seen Bloodbath (or the kill Zara quest) as Illario’s final desperate attempt to be swayed form his plan. It kind of reminds me of Solas and Varric’s note of him in the beginning of the game “he just needs someone to give him a different option”

Like Illario is genuinely upset about this whole thing. He thought Lucanis was dead, and we see that he was such a chronically depressed alcoholic yapper after Lucanis’ death that even though he did give the hit, he at least regretted it or it didn’t sit well with him. (I have no doubt Zara manipulated him to some extent into it, since she has her eyes on Lucanis after the Wigmaker job anyway, but neither Zara or Illario are actually explored in game). But when Illario is taking us to the boat, he makes note of saying Catarina didn’t tell him because “I would have tried to save him.” The way he says that line is in a COMPLETELY different tone than anything else he says. It’s stern and to the point, not condescending like after Illario takes out Zara and talks down on Lucanis, telling him he’s a danger and liability.

If Illario knew Lucanis was actually alive, he probably would have killed Zara earlier. And Zara obviously KNEW THIS because she didn’t tell Illario Lucanis was ALIVE for that very reason. Illario never knew about Spite. He never planned for the Ossuary. He never meant for that to happen! Zara knew that whatever Illario and she had going on would never even be close to the bond Lucanis and Illario have, and Illario would put that over power every single time.

Almost every single time.

Because he knows what he did, and he still goes out for coffee with Lucanis and the weirdo rando that saved him. And then he tries to convince Lucanis to stay away from Zara, because he knows that Zara is capable of and how not only she can, but has hurt Lucanis. (She turned his big brother into an abomination!)

WAIT A MINUTE WHO ELSE DOES THAT? Lucanis does! Except Lucanis is more direct about it. Says that Zara might come after him. Illario tries to convince Lucanis she’s in fuckass land, get him out of the situation ENTIRELY involving Antiva, the Anntam, First Talon. Yeah, there’s probably a selfish motivation, but in Wigmaker Illario is so fucking scared Lucanis is going to essentially fling himself off a cliff, there’s a genuine “heyy can you take a holiday? Can you stop being passively suicidal for me, your little cousin? Can we stop with the ‘death is my calling’ shit?”

Of course Illario can’t just go “uhh I’ll take care of it dw bro” because to Lucanis the beef with Illario and Zara isn’t merely as personal as he (and Spites) beef with her. They really just want to protect one another and get their dues.

Illario killing Zara wasn’t so much for him. I mean she kind of played him, but whatever, it didn’t necessarily affect Illario in anyway, it was for Lucanis. A way to try and appease the guilt of something that he never intended to happen to his older brother. That’s why Illario wants to be there during Bloodbath. “It’s Crow business” aka ‘WHY ARE YOU TAKING WEIRDO RANDO 1 & 2 OVER ME? I deserve to be at your side, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and back, why won’t you let me anymore?’

So Illario meets Lucanis and his rando friends on the rooftop. Lucanis asks him what he’s doing there- and Illario says he wants to go. He’s so desperate to go, to prove his alliance to his big brother cousin. But that’s not all. Lucanis has been gone for a year, and then left immediately. Killing and missions, being Crow’s is one of the main ways Lucanis and Illario bond.

Illario has never felt good enough. For his grandmother, for Lucanis, for anyone. That’s why he started this mess. Zara tells him Lucanis doesn’t think he’s good enough, he never will be, until he does the most Crow thing ever and cuts him out of the family line. Then finally, maybe, when his cousin’s eyes are glassy and corpse empty, will they be filled with approval.

But Lucanis is right here (with two randos)! And Illario asks him to involve him, just looking for that smidge of approval. And Lucanis says no. Ok. Cool! Maybe he just wants you safe. Fine, whatever. But you’re capable- at least you think you are.

So you ask the damning question. “You think I’m not good enough?”

And your cousin, your big brother, simply says: “Are you?”

While surely a good natured jab from Lucanis as siblings do, had Lucanis’ answer been anything even close to praise or more concern, I think Illario would’ve been fine to step out of the way. ALL he needed was Lucanis’ mild assurance/approval. Just a ‘oh no, you’re good enough. I just don’t want you getting hurt is all’

But he doesn’t say that. He simply feeds into the very insecurity that sent Illario to selling him out, the very one that Zara told him but he never quite believed until the words came from Lucanis’ mouth. ‘You’re not good enough to stand by my side anymore.’ And potentially ‘I’ve replaced you with rando 1 & 2, I don’t need you anymore’

So then he doubles down. No more playing nice cousin or big brother little brother. If Lucanis doesn’t want Illario by his side anymore- fuck it, Illario doesn’t need him. Lucanis saying Illario isn’t good enough isn’t just a blow to his ego, or self confidence/self esteem, it’s a flat out rejection. So he takes the kill from Lucanis, and essentially tells him to get the fuck out of dodge or else, and then tries to strong arm first Talon.

Lucanis never quite gives Illario “the different option.” Illario throws their bond away not because he necessarily wants to, but because he thinks Lucanis’ threw it away first, and that he’s just folding onto a frayed rope (not even mentioning how Illario crosses out Lucanis’ name in the family line, showing how he just… almost doesn’t exist. He’s gone to Illario. Illario’s so hurt by everything he just wants Lucanis gone at this point, come hell or high water.)

Lucanis quite literally says that the only way Catarina would be proud of Illario is if he kills her, and if that extends to Lucanis, so be it.

[the20thangel]

The Emperor and His Lady Chapter 5

Summary: As Arabella slowly began her game, Noticeable changes started happening in the palace. While some are pleased with the changes, others are not. Making a foe to rid of the lady from her emperor's side.

Word Count: 2.9K

Tags: Smut, fluff at the end, Minors DNI, 18+ !!!

Taglist: @barcelonaloverf1life @justnobodynothingmore

Masterlist

The next few days were a blur, but at the same time, it was painstakingly long for Arabella. Instead of spending time with her lady and the general, she forced herself to stay in the company of the emperors. At first, Geta did not notice the change until he noticed many of his concubines were distancing themselves from him. Not understanding the change, he took more notice of his background and saw the company of his day, seeing Arabella in his crowd. Shocked, he had no idea she was there, but since then, he searched for her each day, and each day, she was there, wearing the same colors as he was. Seeing how she intentionally dressed to match him made him feel extra possessive, and he started requesting that she stay by his side by holding onto his arm. 

Another change he noticed was that since Arabella’s presence, more and more of his people were willing to speak with him and no longer seemed to fear him. He had mixed feelings about this new change since the start of his reign; people had always feared him and his brother; it was how they created their empire, but at the same time, seeing people willing to talk to him made him feel a different emotion; it made him feel loved. 

The main person who was not happy with these changes was Caracalla; it had always been just his brother and him against the world, against their enemies and allies. Now, all because of a stupid woman, he was losing his brother, leaving him alone. He didn’t like being alone. This, unfortunately, allowed Macrinus to slither his way to the younger’s ear, telling him his foe was the sweet lady hanging off his brother’s arm, letting him know how everything could go back if the lady were ruined for Geta.

“Wouldn’t you like to have fun with her and finally get your brother back? Take her, and your problems will all disappear, my emperor.” Macrinus whispered, growing in sadistic delight as Caracalla hungrily watched his next prey. 

Sighing, Arabella rolled her shoulders. She sat behind the emperors as they talked with the game master about postponing the next set of games. 

“Filling up the Colosseum with water is taking more time, my imperators, but I assure you that everything will be ready in a month, " the game master said, growing nervous with the emperors’ glare. 

“Or you can work twice as hard and fill it faster, and the games can take place how we want them,” argued Geta, drinking his wine while he stared at the game master. 

The Game master gulped as he felt small under Geta's glare while Caracalla cackled, allowing a concubine to feed him a grape. Seeing the impending temper, Arabella prayed for the gods to be merciful as she stepped in. 

“My Imperator, the game master, just wants to ensure he provided the best games he can offer you, but it is not meant to be a slight. Rush the preparations and have a mediocre game, or move it back a month and ensure an entertaining game for you and the whole of Rome. Imagine the success; people will thank you and your brother for throwing a spectacular gladiator fight,” she soothes, placing an arm on Geta’s arm. 

As Geta turned to his lady, the whole room froze, watching the internal battle between emperor and lady. After what seemed like minutes, Geta took a sip of his wine. 

“If what Lady Arabella says is correct, I only expect the best games from this postponement. If it does not meet my expectations, you will make her a fool and shame my brother and me. Then, only the gods will hear your plea as your body is ripped limb by limb. Do I make myself clear, game master?” Threatened Geta, smirking as the game master stuttered in fear. 

Arabella closed her eyes and exhaled. Considering what could have been the outcome, it was a positive sign. Leaving the resolution as it was, the emperors moved on to have enjoyment.  Geta noticed Arabella’s slight scowl and discomfort as the Emperors started messing with their concubines. 

“Arabella, you are free to go…” Geta dismissed her, turning away. 

Arabella, feeling grateful, bowed before hurrying away from the room, not noticing hungry eyes following her out. Feeling like she was being stared at, she turned, making eye contact with Caracalla as the younger emperor licked his lips, not paying attention to the concubine on his lap. Shuddering, the lady left fast and walked to the gardens to relax her breathing. As she leaned on the fountain, she steadied her breathing when she heard a warm voice calling for her. Lifting her sight, she smiled, seeing Former Empress Lucilla walking towards her. 

“My lady, how I missed you. I apologize for not spending time with you as of late, " Arabella said as she kissed Lucilla's cheeks. 

“No worries, sweet one, I… I have been busy as well…” hesitated Lucilla, looking around her surroundings before pulling Arabella closer. 

Being led around the gardens, Arabella waited as she watched her lady gather her strength.

“I want to tell you something, but please, it must stay between us… no one can know.” Lucilla warned the younger. 

Nodding, Arabella promised as she leaned closer to the former empress. Smiling, Lucilla caressed her surrogate daughter’s cheek. 

“Lucius is alive. My Luicus is with life!” she exclaimed quietly, tears glistening. 

Arabella paused in shock, having conflicting feelings. For one, she felt happy for her lady that the son she grieved all these years was alive and not dead. On the other hand, she felt envious; Lucilla’s son was alive while hers was buried in the ground, and she never had the chance to hold him and love him. Third, if Luicus was alive, would he want his throne? What did it entail for her and for the two emperors? Lucilla’s smile dimmed at Arabella’s silence, causing the younger to force a slight grin. 

“I am happy for you, my Lady. Truly, how joy you must feel to know he is alive and safe… is he not?” She paused, seeing Lucilla frown at her words. 

Tearfully breathing, Lucilla responded, “He is one of the gladiators; he goes by Hano… He…He pushed me away. He does not want a relationship with me.” 

Lucilla shed a tear, remembering how Lucius pushed her away. Arabella's eyes softened. Wiping the tear away, she tried comforting her lady. 

“But he is alive, my lady. That is what matters, and he is so close to you. Pray for the gods for his protection; if he plays his cards right, he can earn freedom. Then there, no one can ever take him away from you.” she comforted her lady, grinning as Lucilla giggled with delight at the idea of Lucius being with her. 

“Yes, I hope so. May the gods protect and guide my son,” Lucilla prayed as the two ladies walked more. 

Soon, the ladies thanked each other, leaving Arabella to enter her chambers and see an upset Marcella waiting for her. 

“Marcella, please not tonight…” pleaded Arabella, growing exhausted hearing the scolding each night she did not lay with her emperor. 

“No! It will be tonight; while you were walking with the former empress, Caracalla and Geta overindulged in their wine, and again, I heard Macrinus urge Caracalla to make his move tonight, given how drunk Geta is; he will not be able to notice what happens until the dawn. You must go tonight; do not let that man win, Arabella….” Marcella nervously scolded her lady. 

“I… I will go tonight…” Arabella confirmed, closing her eyes in defeat. She had no idea how to seduce Geta. She was drunk the last time she did and stupidly naive. 

Marcella shook her head, helping her lady prepare and giving her spoken advice to seduce the emperor. Arabella flushed and bit her lip as she listened to the advice. Once they finished, Marcella led her lady to Geta’s chambers. 

“Now remember what I told you, my lady,” soothed Marcella as she fixed Arabella before bowing and leaving her alone. 

Sighing, Arabella searched for wine, wanting to calm her nerves. Seeing a cup, she walked towards it, looking at it in slight disgust. How many had drank from this cup? She thought to herself. Hearing commotion approaching her, she took a deep breath and drank the rest of the wine before walking back to the middle of the chambers. 

As Geta drunkenly entered his chambers with two concubines, they all froze at the beautiful sight of Arabella waiting for her emperor. Her cheeks blushed as she licked her scarlet lips, her brown waves framing her angelic face. As Geta loosened his hold, both concubines shared a look and silently left the room, leaving the emperor and lady alone. 

“Why are you here, Arabella?” slurred Geta as he staggered, and Arabella met him halfway.

Pressing herself to him, she explained, “I wish to spend the night with you. I have missed you, my imp—” She paused before finishing her sentence as Geta snorted. 

“Missed me, huh? After years of being distant, you now miss me?”  taunted Geta, watching as Arabella lowered her eyes for a second. 

Channeling her bravery, she pushed herself closer, her lips lightly touching Geta’s. She whispered, “Yes, I have…so please, Geta…. My Geta, please let me in.” 

Shuddering, Geta closed his eyes, her words affecting him again. Opening them and seeing his lady’s hooded eyes, with lust in her eyes, he closed the gape. Both allowed the walls around their hearts to fall as they embraced and deepened their kiss. After years of yearning for each other, they were finally breaking free. Arabella gasped, feeling her emperor's tongue enter her mouth. She tightened her hold of his arms as she pressed her body further to his. Groaning at the feeling, Geta grabbed her waist while pushing her closer to his bed. 

Falling on his bed, the lady, heavily breathing, stared up at her emperor, her lips swollen, her night dress falling off her shoulder, exposing more of her skin. Grinning, Geta leaned down, capturing her lips, before he moved down her jaw, down to her neck, where he began his attack, sucking a spot with licks and bites, enjoying the delicious whimpers he brought out from her. 

Arabella, falling more into her lust, wrapped her fingers through the ginger hair as she gasped, feeling Geta bite down on her neck. Yes, it was painful, but her pleasure was more remarkable. Moving to expose her neck more, she moaned, feeling him grind his clothed budge to her exposed and drenched cunt. Biting her lip, feeling devious, she, too, started to grind her hips up. She was matching the rhythm of her emperor. Grunting, Geta released his lady's neck, growing in satisfaction, seeing a red mark starting to form. Taking hold of her hip, He rubbed himself on her wet cunt, his grin growing, seeing her wither and pant from his humping. 

Opening her eyes, Arabella reached up, cradling her Geta’s face, “Please…My Geta, make me yours again; I want to be yours again…” she pleaded, breaking her promise to her 15-year-old self. 

 Growling, Geta began to undress while commanding Arabella to do the same. She did as she was told, shaking in pleasure. Arabella shed her gown before crawling onto Geta’s lap and kissing him again. She moaned into his mouth as he pushed himself inside her. He was thicker and larger from the last time she had him. Releasing her lips, Geta kissed the top of her breast before he began thrusting into his lady. Arabella moaned louder, moving her hips to match the rhythm but losing it once Geta started changing his speed, pounding into her. 

Wanting to have more control and speed, Geta pushed her to lay on her back; raising her hip, he pushed harshly, pulling out at a fast and bruising pace. Arabella screamed in delight at the overwhelming pace, her breasts bouncing with each thrust from her emperor, her mind in a daze, and she could only focus on his cock sliding in and out of her. 

“Who do you belong to…”Grunted Geta.

Leaning her head back, Arabella whispered, “I’m yours…” 

“Louder! I want the whole palace to hear you scream for me!” growled Geta as he pulled entirely out before slamming back inside her. 

Gasping wide eyes, Arabella screamed, “Yours, I am forever your Geta…. Yes… Yes… more…please… My Geta… I want more of you!” 

Grunting, losing a little of his pace, Geta grunted, “Yes, you are mine. Nobody shall ever have you. You were made for me, and nobody can ever… mmm… no one can ever compare to your cunt.” 

Nodding, Arabella squeezed her legs around Geta’s waist, grabbing his hands and placing their intertwined hands on her hips. She entirely gave herself to her emperor. 

“Yes, I will always be your Arabella. No one else can ever take me from you…” she declared before moaning loudly, feeling her emperor’s warm seed enter her. 

 As they gasped for their breath, coming down from their high, the lady ran her fingers through her liege’s hair. 

Listening to his lady’s heartbeat, Geta thought back to her declaration. Did she mean it, or was it in the heat of their pleasure? Unable to fight the tiredness, both lady and emperor fell into Morephus' domain. 

The following morning, Marcella entered her lady’s chambers, ready to prepare her for the day, when her heart jumped to her throat; Arabella wasn’t in bed. Thinking the worst, Marcella ran out of the room towards the emperors' chambers. As she nearly passed by Geta’s chambers, she stopped. Looking around, she quietly entered, growing nervous seeing the emperor naked with a woman in his arms. She decided to creep forward; the sight before made her face grow red, and she quickly moved her eyes away. In his arms was an equally naked Arabella with a slight smile on her face. A smile grew as she quickly covered them with a sheet and left in relief. 

Arabella, feeling warm, snuggled deeper into the arms around her before she realized her actions. Sharply inhaling, she opened her eyes and inclined her head to ensure she knew where she was. Staring at her, Geta’s calm face flushed as memories of last night returned, the heat blooming in her stomach again. Feeling selfish, the young lady pushed herself up, grazing her lips to his; she stared at him for a moment before leaning in and giving a chaste kiss to her emperor, waking him from his slumber. 

Usually, Geta would grow annoyed when any of his concubines tried to kiss him from his sleep, but once he opened his eyes and noticed it was Arabella, he closed his eyes again, enjoying her warm, soft lips on his. Allowing his vulnerable side to take hold, he raised a hand to her cheek, caressing it. Arabella's eyes snapped open in shock, breaking the kiss to lean away from Geta. Geta grumbled as he opened his eyes, annoyed that his kiss was cut short. As both lovers stayed frozen, staring at each other, neither knew how to begin their conversation. 

Geta decided he would be the first to speak, his question from last night coming back to him: “Did you mean what you said last night…” 

Arabella searched his face for his emotions but was unable to read him, “...I-” 

“Did you mean that you will always be mine, Arabella, that no one has or ever will touch you?” questioned Geta more firmly as he sat up. 

Arabella’s heartbeat echoed in her ears, staring into Geta’s soft eyes, even if his tone was firm. Even if her 15-year-old self screamed to place her walls up, pleading not to fall again, begging to protect their heart, Arabella could not lie anymore; she would not deny it. 

Softening her face to grace a sincere smile, Arabella kissed her lover before whispering her words on his lips, “Yes, I am forever yours, Geta, my love… not one person in the entire Roman empire shall ever take your place. I do not want to; I only want to be with you, My Geta.” 

Feeling tears prickle his eyes, The Emperor ignored his 17-year-old self, screaming at him to push her away, that if he pushed her away, they could not suffer through the same heartbreak they felt when their son died. Geta held his lover’s face as he kissed her back. She lay back on the bed as she wrapped her legs against his waist, again begging for him to enter. 

As he entered her sweet body again, hearing her quiet moan, he whispered in her ear to make sure only she would listen to his vulnerable words. “I have missed you, My Arabella, my sweet girl, my empress.” As servants passed Emperor Geta’s chambers, they heard the sweet sounds of two lovers rejoining their hearts together again. 

Later, the feast chamber was tense as many had conflicting feelings about the scene before them. Usually, Geta and Caracalla sat on an extended bench flocked by concubines as they were fed. However, Arabella sat beside Geta’s left today while Caracalla sat beside his brother’s right. Everyone saw the enormous angry mark on Arabella’s neck that she wore proudly as Geta ate happily. Acacius and Lucilla, who were invited, in truth, more commanded to come, shared a weary look between them before Lucilla drew in a sharp breath. Geta raised Arabella to his lap, looking at her with admiration as the young lady smiled at her emperor with the same look. While Caracalla and Macrinus also stared at the lovers, one in shock and the other in annoyance. It would be more challenging to separate the two, thought Macrinus as he drank his morning wine.

[etherealeowyn]

"I love... Every... Part of you" - Gil-galad x Fem Reader

Y/n is feeling insecure, and Gil-galad makes her realize just how beautiful she truly is.

Angst + Fluff

Word Count: 677

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

Gil-galad walked down the hall of his palace, trying to find his wife Y/n since she hadn’t shown up for breakfast. She told him she would meet him downstairs, but after waiting thirty minutes, he knew something was up. It wasn’t like her to stand him up without warning, so he genuinely was worried about her.

When he got to the door, he noticed it was partially cracked open, allowing him to hear soft, muffled crying on the other side. He immediately entered the room, not sure what to expect because it wasn’t often Y/n cried.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, making Gil-galad unable to see her face. Y/n’s silken robes hung loosely around her body, showing that she hadn’t even bothered getting dressed for the day.

He immediately sat down beside her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his body. Gil-galad sat there for a couple of moments in silence until her crying had ceased.

“Do you wish to tell me what happened? You don’t have to, but I know it’s good to get things off your chest if they’re bothering you,” he spoke, not wanting to pressure her, but at the same time, desperately wanting to know what was wrong.

Y/n lifted her head from her hands, exposing her tear-stained face. Gil-galad was surprised because her eyes appeared to be even more beautiful than ever, due to the fact the whites of her eyes had become red, making the color of the irises stand out more than ever.

“I-I tried to wear the dress you bought me a while back, but it was too small. Then I started to spiral when I realized how unappealing my body was when I looked in the mirror. I’ll never be pretty like the other female elves, I’m just an imperfect human.” Y/n said, tears bursting from her eyes once again as she turned away from Gil-galad ashamed.

His brows furrowed in confusion, wondering how she could think such things of herself. Not even a single time did he even remotely find Y/n to be unappealing. Gil-galad truly believed she was the most gorgeous individual to ever exist throughout the history of Middle Earth. One of the reasons why he loved her so much was because she was a human, every part of her was unique, something that he adored more than he could express.

Where she saw insecurities, he saw complete and utter beauty.

“Unappealing? I assure you, my love, you are nowhere near unappealing. I don’t want you ever thinking that about yourself. You are far from an imperfect human, quite frankly, you are the epitome of perfect.” Gil-galad replied with sadness laced in his words.

Words didn’t come out of her mouth, instead, she just nodded her head, looking at him once more. She bit her lip slightly, trying to hold back the tears that kept threatening to pour out.

“Darling, you know that I would never tell you anything other than the truth,” he reassured, his hands sliding down the silk robe from her body, making it fall onto the bed around her.

“I love,” he started, kissing the side of her jaw, and down her neck.

“Every,” he continued, his mouth trailing down the skin of her chest to her stomach, causing a small smile to appear on her face.

“Part of you,” he finished, his lips leaving her stomach and connecting to her mouth, deeply and comfortingly kissing her, showing her how much he cared for her.

Her hand cupped the side of his face, and his hands found her waist, swiftly pulling her body towards his, eliminating the space between them. He disconnected his lips from hers, and Y/n’s head fell back in pleasure.

“Now, have I convinced you of your beauty?” Gil-galad asked, raising one of his eyebrows with a small smirk.

“Almost, but I think you need to kiss me once more to make me believe,” Y/n joked, looking at him through her eyelashes.

[kingkat12]

so... this is the deleted original ending to the first chapter of seven minutes in heaven. made centuries ago. enjoy!!

(it sorta starts in the middle of the closet scene, so here goes nothing)

WARNINGS: SMUT! SMUT! ROMAN BEING AN ASSHOLE! mind control powers being used for BAD bad bad BAD things!! implied mind control during sex so is it dub-con?, dark!Roman, not-so-happy-ending

word count: 1,811

a/n: there was a reason this version was scrapped... it felt too dark and not fun and urgh i'm simply posting this as an ancient artifact lol. it might suck as i wrote this back in august, but oh well!!!

(Roman is NOT a feminist in this one, so... irony<333 generalizing cunt)

 "And I reckon this is your first time playing?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, no longer meeting his gaze. I couldn't look at him, not right not, not when we were this close and alone. 

"So..." Roman ran his fingers through his hair, the usual smirk returning. "You know what usually happens in here, or...?"

I rolled my eyes; "I'm not an idiot,"

"I know," Roman's voice got lower, breathier, and he took a step closer. There wasn't much room for more steps, actually— it was getting rather cramped up at this point. "But if there's anything you've wanted to try out, now's the time."

My breath hitched, hoping the thumping of my heart wasn't audible to him. 

It was almost as though Roman could sense how nervous I was; he bent down a little, getting on my level before he whispered; "I won't tell Letha,"

Feeling his hot breath against my skin, how dangerously close he was, was almost too much for me. The way he said it made me even more conscious of what was happening; I hadn't even told Letha how crazy I was about Roman, and I knew she'd be against it.

However... I was being served my biggest dream on a platter. Maybe if I got this bit over with, my feelings would subside and go back to being purely hateful again? 

I mustered up the courage, letting out a shaky breath before I opened my mouth to speak; "Could you maybe... kiss me?" My words came out barely louder than a whisper. "I've just had a really shitty night."

Roman's expression remained unchanged. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"... No, you're not,"

"Okay, you might be right," He let out a soft laugh against my lips, and my eyes quickly darted down to his hands to check if he wasn't holding a needle or no. That was when I knew my anxiety was through the roof. "So... you want a kiss? That's all?"

This was too nerve-wracking. I kept imagining that he would say no, that he would reject me somehow and make me the only girl at school he wouldn't want to do anything with— that would definitely make me hate him even more. In a flash moment of weakness (which I later blamed the alcohol for), I sighed; "Just... could you? Or am I asking for too much?"

Something about Roman's expression changed— he seemed to realize what it was that I was actually asking of him. Not to make out, not to drown in one another, but the simplest of all things romance; affection. Something gentle, something sweet, just to check if he had a sliver of anything resembling that in his system. 

"You like me, don't you?" Roman whispered, nudging his nose against mine, eyes rounding out as he heard my breath hitch at the simple gesture. "This is what all of this has been about?"

I closed my eyes, revelling in the feeling. It was the smallest thing, yet it was a comfort in the midst of the conversation. "All of what?"

"Your anger," Roman let out a sigh, connecting our foreheads, closing his eyes as well. "You can't stand that you like me, can you?"

For some reason, I felt the urge to cry overcome me— I spent a few seconds pressing down the stream of tears that threatened to surface. Having someone say it out loud felt like a desperately needed release. "It's been a nightmare,"

Roman stilled, eventually letting out a hum which sent a shiver down my spine. "You know nothing about nightmares," he breathed against my lips. "If I tell Letha we fucked in here, you'll be living through your worst one."

I shouldn't have been so shocked— I should've expected this. I should've known that Roman would spin this around on me. I definitely knew he wouldn't reciprocate, but this? What was it, revenge? 

"I could make your every waking moment a living hell," he continued, his cold hands suddenly travelling up my body, gripping my waist with a grip I was afraid would bruise. "Letha would take my side, of course... Who else do you have but her, hm?"

I wanted to break out into tears, now grabbing at his hands. Almost panicked, I tried to get him off of me, but to no avail. "I'll leave you alone," I pleaded, finding his eyes.

"Nah, that's not what I want," I could see the sadistic satisfaction overcome him— I saw how he broke out into a wide grin at the sight of my glossy eyes. "How about we make a deal?"

Making a deal with the devil reincarnated? Very smart move, on my part. Fucking genius. "Okay?"

Roman hummed, his harsh grip around my waist releasing, allowing me to finally suck in a heave of air. Catching me off guard, he suddenly pressed his lips against my forehead with the softest touch I had ever felt— was he trying to throw me off course? 

"Start being nice..." Roman murmured, his now hands drawing soothing circles onto my back. "And I will reward you."

I let out a shaky breath; I was thankful that the agreement didn't involve any needles. "... That's all?"

"That's all," Roman echoed, pulling away to watch my expression. "You and your mouth have been making my life hell, do you know that? So if you can calm the fuck down, we could both get what we want. How does that sounds?"

I wasn't completely sold. "And what is it that you think I want?"

Roman's eyes darkened; he knew he had won. "Me," 

Oh, how I hated him. I hated him, and I knew I always would. But as his lips ghosted over mine, seconds away from touching, I didn't stand a chance anymore when the following words sounded past his plush lips; "I have a feeling I might have to put you in your place a little, hm? Maybe you'd even want that? Because honestly, I know girls like you... You fight until your last breath, then you're completely in denial, and then you'll fall apart the minute you get what you've always wanted,"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this... me? 

"And you've always wanted to be one of my girls, haven't you?" Roman leaned down, pressing a deadly soft kiss against my cheek which nearly took my breath away; I could feel him smirk against my skin. "Or maybe... the only one?"

At this point, I felt so broken down that I gave in to a nod. 

Roman's hand slowly ghosted up my body until his fingers gently wrapped around my neck, holding me in place, almost as though he feared I would run; "I can arrange that, y'know?"

This conversation had unlocked a deep, dark part of me that I didn't know I had— like this, completely at his mercy, I had a feeling I was made to be his. Brainwashed. That I was put on this earth to find him and be with him, and that we were destined to be together. It made me feel so weak and pathetic that my lower lip eventually gave in to a quiver, feeling a sob build.

Roman let go of my neck, stroking his fingers through my hair. "Shh, no need for that... You're fine, you're okay. It's just me."

Just me. Just Roman. He who that had haunted my dreams for months, the only one I could think of when I got myself off, and the one I had been longing for from afar for so long that it turned into burning hate. 

Roman must've felt like he was done torturing me, finally meeting my lips with the most gentle kiss I had ever shared. This was all I had ever wanted— he was right. My heart beat hard in my chest as I let myself melt against his dangerously soft lips. 

I wanted to be his, no matter the cost. No matter what happened or what I had to sacrifice. 

I loved Roman Godfrey.

... and I was sure of it now.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Yes— This was right.

Of course. 

I loved him. 

I loved him, I loved him, God, how I loved him. With every fibre of my being, I loved him. 

I loved the feeling of his body against mine, corrupting my mind until I was nothing but mindless. A small part of me also loved that it was our little secret, and ours only. 

Letha didn't have a clue, of course— I had kept my act up quite well when I was around her. I had kept it up around everyone else as well, but the anger that was ravaging through my system, the hate that was burning me up from inside was currently being mended by one thing and one thing only;

"A-Aah—"

My fingers tangled into Roman's hair, feeling his bruising grip around my hips tighten as he fucked me into my mattress. I let out a small cry, feeling my legs starting to go numb after how long they had been thrown over his broad shoulders. Deep down, I didn't care— nothing could put out the angry fire in my soul like Roman did. Nothing was a better remedy than feeling his cock inside me, no matter what, when, or where.

I let out a gasp as Roman shifted, pulling me into his lap with ease. I couldn't feel my legs now, and I had a sense that he knew— he barely had to put any strength into moving me around, especially with how he was towering over me in general. 

I let out a gasp as he sunk me down on his length, and I gripped his shoulders with a short squeak for support. Heavy breaths escaped my parted lips as I clung to him, whimpering at the feeling of his thick cock stroking my insides. 

Roman seemed beyond content, gazing up at me with half-lidded eyes. He revelled in the sight of how ruined I was before he attached his soft lips to my collarbone to bring forth a hickey, humming. That was the one place we both knew Letha wouldn't see it, after all. 

It was impossible not to submit to the devil reincarnated when sex could feel this good with him. It didn't matter that I had practically sold my soul for this, because every second, every stroke of his cock, was worth it. 

"You're heaven," he murmured, lifting my hips and pushing himself further into me, taking more control. "You feel so... shit, this is heaven—"

Ironic.

And just as I felt my climax approaching, flashes of thoughts I had suppressed came crashing forward. No matter how nice all of this felt, I couldn't help but wonder how I had even agreed to any of this in the first place. But it wasn't like he had mind control powers, right? It wasn't like this was some sadistic ploy to seek revenge against all the times I had been a complete and utter bitch to him.

No— it couldn't be. Don't be ridiculous.

... Right?

[mymegrokosmos]

coffee dates with seungkwan are your favourite. he's always late but it gives you the chance to take your time, lingering on the menu and finding a nice table where you can watch the people walking by. you like sitting on the patio. partly because it gives your boyfriend the freedom to be as loud as he wants while he vents about his day and fills you in on any new drama happening on set. partly because it's usually a good way to get him to sit closer or to end up bundled into his sweater or jacket.

you can’t complain. well, you could but why would you want to? the view is nice and he always pays. one thing about dating boo seungkwan is that you're absolutely spoiled. you get the princess treatment every day and you couldn’t feel luckier.

"y/n, love?"

you blink at the sound of your name, turning from where you were watching a cute little dachshund in a sweater to find your boyfriend hovering over you. he stands beside your chair, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you push away your thoughts, sweep away the mind cobwebs of whatever daydream you were stuck in for a minute, and smile up at him.

"hi kwannie, have you been there long?"

he shakes his head, sliding into his seat across the small table from you and trying to see what you're looking at. you laugh softly and nod towards the puppy.

"cute, right? look at his little boots."

seungkwan just shakes his head but he's smiling as he picks up the iced americano you ordered for him, using his card of course because he sulks every time you try to pay for coffee on your own delivery or order ahead apps.

"a little silly but I guess it's probably practical."

you nod, sipping your iced latte. "mm, I imagine a lot of things are much harder and more inconvenient when you're that small living in a world made for much bigger beings and you can't even speak to them about it. not in a way that we understand well at least."

your boyfriend just blinks at you. "I've left you alone with Dino and Vernon too often."

you rest your chin on one hand and blink back at him. "and what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

"you're spewing scenarios other people would never think of because you're bored. there are so many people you could be watching right now and instead you decided that, while waiting for the love of your life to arrive and grace you with the blessing that is his presence, you wanted to wonder what it would be like to live as a dachshund for day."

you considered this. "okay, fair point. however, I stand by my decision. it was fun."

seungkwan sips his coffee. you smile.

"how was your day handsome?"

and just like that, you fall into easy conversation. the words always flow with seungkwan. the rhythm is soothing, familiar, and when he gets up to drape his sweater over your shoulder after you shiver one too many times (one, that's already too many in his mind why are you even cold to begin with the weather should just immediately conform to your every whim frankly) it feels like home.

you smile, slipping your arms through the sleeves of the thick hoodie and snuggling into the leftover warmth of seungkwan's body. it smells like him, clean, sharp, citrus and a hint of something slightly woodsy. you blush when you glance up to meet his fond gaze, eyes soft as he watches you with a small smile.

"what?"

he shakes his head and takes another sip of his coffee. "nothing, you're just cute."

you scrunch your nose up at him and he laughs. you sip your drink and stretch your legs out, foot just brushing his ankle before you sit back again.

"ready to head home?"

he nods. "we're still on for dinner together, right? and a movie? I already told jeonghan hyung to clear out for the evening."

you nod, smiling as he offers you a hand up. "mm, you know we are. that sounds perfect. please tell me you're making those mimosas you tried out last week?"

his hand moves to rest on your lower back, guiding you back through the restaurant and out into the world again. you lean into him as you cross the street, head resting against his shoulder just slightly as you walk close enough to bump hips every few steps. neither of you moves to fix that. you just smile and let it happen.

"i'm making pizza, mingyu helped me prepare it all ready to pop in the oven when we get back. I just need to preheat it first and use that pizza stone he got us for Christmas."

"ooh what kind of pizza."

"I hope you like margherita."

you nod. "that sounds perfect kwan."

and it is. domestic seungkwan is one of your favourite sides of him. you like when he gets to relax like this. seeing him in comfy clothing, bare faced and with his hair all fluffy from running his hands through it. you sip your drink and watch as he shuffles around the kitchen, humming along to the playlist he put on and you move to light some candles.

it gets dark so early in autumn and while his apartment gets great light, his walls of windows can't compensate for a sun already fully sunken on the horizon. you find yourself smiling as he puts the pizza in the oven and sets the timer, reaching over to pull you into him and spinning you both around the kitchen.

you just watch as he sings to you, swaying with him as you dance to the rest of the song before stilling. his hands rest comfortably on your hips, like they belong there. they do, you think so at least. his expression is soft again, happy, and you can't help leaning up to kiss him.

"what was that for?"

you mirror his words from earlier. "you're just cute."

he sighs. "what am I going to do with you darling?"

you grin. "keep me, I hope."

and just like that you fall into the arms, and charms, of the one and only boo seungkwan. yet again. like you always do. because there's nothing that melts your heart quite like the smile on his face and the sparkle in those eyes. his happiness is truly the most beautiful thing you've ever witnessed, and you want nothing more than to keep being a part of it for as long as he'll let you share in this. in these moments.

in this laughter. in this lifetime of soft, safe, warm, genuine love. the kind no one ever warns you is addicting. the kind that doesn't judge. okay so maybe a little bit. but it's worth all the hard moments, every fight or argument, every little speed bump you have to overcome on the way. it's all worth it when you get to come home to this.

unconditional love, thy name is boo seungkwan and thou art everything.

[youcouldmakealife]

Owen/Willy, ScratchnMoney; team huddle (for warmth)

For the prompt: Anything Willy/Owen

Feat. shenanigans, as contractually required of all Scouts prompts.

Sometimes Tate thinks it’s a very good thing that Owen got to know the Scouts before anything ever happened between them.

This would be one of them.

Owen’s pretty accustomed to all of them by now, unfazed by the usual antics, but when he opens the door to the three of them, Tate shivering and dripping wet, flanked by Scratch and Money, like particularly negligent bodyguards, his eyes go a little wide.

“Um,” Owen says. “Hi?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Money yells over Scratch’s, “It was Money’s fault.”

“No one’s at fault,” Tate says.

His teeth are starting to chatter. He has a decent cold tolerance, and Missouri winters are a far cry from some of the ones he’s endured — pretty much anywhere will feel balmy after you spend some of your formative years in Winnipeg — but it’s certainly too cold for what he’s wearing. Well, it was perfectly fine, but that was when it wasn't sopping wet.

“Why don’t we get you inside?” Owen says, and Tate gratefully steps into the relative warmth, struggling to get his shoes off with stiff hands as Owen and the Tweedles talk, Money’s last insistence that it wasn’t his fault cut off by either Scratch hauling him off or the door closing on him mid-sentence. Scratch, probably. Owen’s too polite to close the door on anyone. Scratch is absolutely not too polite to stick his hand over Money’s mouth and drag him forcefully back to the car.

“Was it Joey’s fault?” Owen asks. He’s trying to look solemn, but his lips are trembling with the laugh he’s trying to suppress.

“It wasn’t not his fault,” Tate chatters.

“Why don’t you tell me after you take a shower?” Owen says, because he is, in fact, the most perfect man alive, then, “Do you want some tea?”

Like Tate said.

*

Even after a hot shower long enough that the tea Owen’s made him is bitter and tepid, changing into sweats and a hoodie, thick wool socks, grabbing a throw off the couch and bundling it around himself like a cape, Tate can’t seem to get warm.

Owen disappears from the table, returning with a beanie he tucks over Tate’s wet hair.

“Lose 40% of my body heat, right?” Tate asks. “Or is that a myth?”

“A myth,” Owen says. “But you’re still shivering, and it’s just about the only skin left uncovered. If this doesn’t help, the next step is going to grab you some mittens.”

“Then a balaclava?” Tate asks.

“As if you’d let anything cover your pretty face,” Owen says, and Tate laughs. “The step after that is probably body heat.”

“We can skip straight to that one,” Tate says, and this time Owen’s laughing.

“Drink your tea,” he says.

“It’s not hot,” Tate protests, and Owen disappears into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a fresh cup of tea, a warm compress he wraps around Tate’s neck and shoulders like a scarf. Tate tucks his face into the warmth, tucks his fingers around the mug.

“Was there another fountain?” Owen asks. And he's officially used to the Scouts by now, because he says it with weary humor, but absolutely zero surprise.

“It wasn’t a fountain,” Tate says. Which is a major silver lining, considering showing guys the fountain video is one of the way he prepares new teammates to meet the team. He thinks it gives a pretty good idea of the general vibe, and then he can add the proposal video to give them an even better idea, along with a pretty good litmus test on how well a guy's going to fit in the room, watching the way they watch it. But he’s sure, given the circumstances, ScratchnMoney — well, mostly Money — would show no mercy if they had video of Tate in a similarly compromising position — location? — as would be their right.

Which leads to the second silver lining: that ScratchnMoney were both panicking far too much at the time to think about pulling their phones out and hitting ‘record’.

“Don’t tell me you—“ Owen says, pure, undiluted horror on his face now.

“If I fell in the Missouri I’d still be in the shower,” Tate says. Possibly forever.

Owen lets out an audible sigh of relief. Tate takes a sip of tea. It’s just shy of boiling, and he’d usually wait, but that’s perfect right now.

“There may have been a pond,” Tate admits.

Owen’s smiling again. “Why was there a pond?”

“Someone was complaining his dinner was too heavy and he needed a digestive walk,” Tate says. A far cry from the drunken pizza run that lead to The Fountain Incident. They’ve all gotten old. Old men who need digestive walks.

“Somehow I don’t think Nick was the one suggesting it,” Owen says.

Tate tilts his head, giving him the point. Scratch spent the entire time grumbling that some people didn’t need digestive walks, and bickering with Money about how his ‘shit diet’ seemed to suit his digestion better than Money’s ‘rabbit food’ did. Tate did not get involved. He was honestly just glad Money had suggested before he did.

“Is that why it was Joey’s fault?” Owen asks.

“Oh,” Tate says. “No. It’s his fault because he pushed me in the pond.”

“Tate!” Owen says. “Why did you say it wasn’t his fault?”

“Because he would have stuck around to argue and I would have said or done just about anything for a hot shower at that point,” Tate says.

“And that’s why they made you the captain,” Owen says.

“I think it’s more that everyone else had too much sense to take it,” Tate says.

“You’ve stopped shivering,” Owen observes.

“Is that a good sign or a bad one?” Tate asks.

“Depends on the circumstances,” Owen says.

“Do you think we need to try the huddling for warmth part of the plan?” Tate asks. It’s a come on, sort of, but he’s a little embarrassed to admit just how nice it sounds, crawling under the covers right now. It’s far too early for that — if it were a game night, he’d still be out on the ice — and Tate is very serious about his sleep hygiene, but if Owen thinks they should huddle for warmth, then, well — he’s the expert. That’s biochemical, isn’t it? Biological, at the very least.

Owen traces his finger over the palm of Tate’s hand, and Tate shivers. It’s entirely unintentional on his part, as are the goosebumps rising in wake of Owen’s touch, but he couldn’t have timed it better if he tried.

“If you think it’ll help,” Owen says, then takes his hand away. Tate feels cold everywhere Owen’s touched him, overheated everywhere else.

“I think it’d be very helpful,” Tate says, all honesty.

“Then finish your tea,” Owen says, and Tate curses himself for requesting another cup, because if it were lukewarm he’d be able to swallow it in two gulps. As it is, he sips it as quickly as he can, and between the hot drink, layer after layer of clothing, and Owen puttering around now, turning lights out, setting the security system, he feels very warm indeed.

“Coming up?” Owen asks from the hall.

Tate takes one final gulp. He’d usually bring it back to the kitchen, but he thinks he can make an exception tonight, the same way he made an exception for the clothing puddled in the master bathroom, wearing a hat over wet hair, which he’s pretty sure his grandmother told him was fatal, though maybe she just meant outside.

“Right behind you,” he says, and flips the last light off as he follows Owen upstairs.

[zippidi-dooda]

You smiled, reminiscing as you watched the stoic male scribble away at his desk. He dipped the nib into the dark jar, each swirl of the pen trailed by shimmering ink. His fingers were never dotted with mess and sleeves pristine.

For how many pages you'd seen, lines neat with dotted eyes and crossed 't's, his tilts and formalities were ever familiar.

You couldn't even keep track of how many you'd recieved.

But you did remember adoring them.

"Hey, Rollo? When am I getting my next note?"

"What?" He raised a brow, turning over his shoulder to look at you.

You padded across the wooden floorboards, placing your hands over the back of his seat.

"A letter. You never responded to my last one."

He set his pen down, shifting to better face you. "What's the need? Anything that needs saying can be done in person now that we're in the same house."

"Well, yeah," you sighed, "but you enjoy them don't you? No one really sends letters nowadays, it feels romantic."

An attempt to cover his blushing face was stopped by your hand on his.

"... it was simply for ease. Hand writing keeps one enriched. Besides it's safer." He turned back to the table. "Your meal's been prepared in the kitchen. If you favor something else, tell me, I'll only be a minute."

Your eyes watched him for moment, tracing the creases in his robes, the rare stray strands out place in his silvery hair, the light hitting him just right to envelop him in a warm glow.

Then you leaned forward.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, nose nuzzling into the soft heat between his chin and neck.

To say he was caught off guard would be an understatement. He practically jumped at your intrusion, tired eyes snapping down to you.

"What are you doing!"

You chuckled nuzzling deeper, "you've been working for a while, let me keep you company."

An uncomfortable noise buzzed in his throat.

He looked at the wall in front of him, a slender hand pressing over where your arms crossed.

"N-no ... that's alright. I just need to sign this before sending it out."

"What's it for?"

"... my parents."

You perked up, eyes looking up at him. "Parents? How sweet. You know, I don't think you've mentioned them much before ...."

He reached for his pen again. "Yes, well ... I do not see them much. Though, they're happy I'm doing well and write me often. Honestly, they worry too much."

You positioned your head on his shoulder, scanning his letter.

"Will I meet them someday?"

He flushed once more, eyes squinting shut. "I'd rather not. They'll probably put up more of a fuss."

His eyes drifted to his ruby ring on your finger.

A pause.

Then he sighed again.

"Though I suppose now's the safest time to tell them about about our ... predicament ...."

You straightened up, smiling.

"I think we should invite them for dinner."

"What!" He pushed back his chair. "Y/N we cannot do things on a whim. There are cues and expectat-"

"Oh, it's your parents, Rollo. If they write you I'm sure they'll be happy to actually see you again."

"Y/N, there are times where-"

You cupped his cheeks, squishing them to form his lips into a pout. "I'd like our son, daughter, or whatever, to know at least your parents since they can't know mine. And I'd like to know the people who created this perfect gentleman in my hands."

His nose twitched as you squeezed his cheeks for emphasis.

He desperately wanted to roll his eyes and storm out to make his own point, but instead he breathed deeply and looked to the side.

It wasn't that he didn't want you to see his parents, if circumstances were different he would've rushed you to them the instant you'd eloped.

But he didn't want to see them.

It was the reason he was so far away in the first place.

He couldn't stand to see them after all that had happened.

And he was certain nothing good would come out of it.

They'd tell you about ...

Well, the less you knew about him or his family the better.

Besides, focusing on the two of you and what was to come was best right? Yes, best to avoid adding stress factors to your soon to be unprompted hormones.

He pried your hands from his face and stood, "We'll see about invitations."

"I knew you'd come around! And I think-"

He wrapped his free arm around you, hand on your hip as he guided you away from his papers, "yes, yes, let's worry about keeping you in safe condition, those plates aren't going to clear themselves."

You chuckled, leaning into his arms as he led the way.

You both knew he had nothing to be so fretful for, but his readiedness regarding your well-being just made you feel to warm inside.

You couldn't think of a single thing about him there was not to be fond of.

... but he could

<< Prev | Next? >>

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Team "In-Over-his-Head"

Series: A Wildcard is Active

-----

Word Count: 5275

Summery: Mumbo is saddled with wrangling two tiny teammates: a mischievous Grian and a bloodthirsty Skizz. When Skizz runs off by himself to get a kill, Grian is tasked with leading Mumbo on a wild goose chase to keep him distracted. It turns out to be more frustrating for Mumbo than Grian planned.

-----

“C’mon, Grian! My pal, my buddy, my amigo. Just one hint, just ooone little hint!”

Grian snickered as he ducked around Skizz. “Nope, not telling. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Skizz pouted. “I’m a red name, Grian, I need all the help you can give me.”

That was true, he did. Grian’s choice of ally ship, though he wouldn’t trade them for anyone else, were perhaps not the most invested in self preservation; but the integrity of the game would not be sacrificed just because Skizz and Mumbo gave him puppy eyes.

“And that’s why we ought to plan! Up to the meeting tower, come on.”

Grian grinned with bubbling anticipation as they scaled the bridges up to the precariously placed meeting tower and took their seats.

Mumbo chuckled at him. “You see? You’ve got that grin on your face that I don’t like. It makes me a bit nervous, I’ll be honest.”

He smiled wider. “What? I’m not grinning! I’m perfectly serious and focused on getting your lives back this session.” They would be doing nothing of the sort, he was absolutely certain. 

“Right, right. Game faces.” Skizz said, “I was thinking we get a hit on Gem or Joel, or maybe even…” He glanced over his shoulder for anyone who might’ve been listening. “Lizzie’s on the table, too. They’re all on six, it’ll be no skin off their nose, y’know?”

Mumbo scrunched up his nose. “I’m not so sure I want to tangle with Gem. That’s not how I’d like to go down to red, thanks.”

The two of them kept talking, mulling over various methods and targets, but Grian could only focus on the time. Five minutes till. Four. Three. Two.

Skizz poked him in the side of the head. “G? Are you even paying attention, dude? We need all hands on deck here!” 

He held up his communicator with a smile. “Just watching the time. Whatever happens, stay in your seat, grab onto something and don’t let go in five… four…”

“Woah, what— okay! Whatever you say!” Skizz grabbed onto the sides of his chair and Mumbo hastily followed.

“Three, two…” The colourful ellipses appeared in his minds eye, “One…”

A Wildcard is Active.

He fastened his communicator back on his hip and leaned back in his chair, watching as Mumbo and Skizz sat frozen, waiting for the other shoe to drop. After a long moment of silence, Skizz hesitantly relaxed and looked around.

“…You messin’ with us, G? ‘Cause nothing’s happening on my end.”

“You’ll see. Just give it a minute.” He pulled two blocks out of his inventory and placed them on either side of his chair for stability and rested his arms on them.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go back down. Suddenly I don’t feel safe up here.” Skizz turned to walk back across the bridge to the mountain when Grian felt the buzzing in his chest. The first thought in his mind was oh dear, here we go, and the second was that he knew what was about to happen, and if they didn’t act now Skizz was about to be out of the series right then. 

He shot upright in his chair but stayed firmly put. “Mumbo! Mumbo grab him, grab him now!”

Mumbo scrambled to snag Skizz by the arm and yank him back to the platform just as the smoke appeared and he crumpled to the ground.

“Woah, G, what’s goin’ on, man!?” Skizz stared wide-eyed at his hands, which were giving off growing streams of purple smoke.

Mumbo wasn’t smoking, and Grian couldn’t help but start laughing even as his own body started to feel like jelly. “Oh Mumbo Jumbulio, you’re about to have a very fun session.”

“Wha— Grian you can’t just—!” Mumbo stammered, trying to hold Skizz upright, “What does that mean!? What’s going on?”

The purple smoke enveloped the platform, and he was out like a light. 

-

He was roused again from his brief nap by the sound of Mumbo’s panicked blubbering. He couldn’t quite bring himself to open his eyes right away, breathing deeply through the heavy drowsiness and fading buzzing under his skin. The sleepy feeling in his arms and legs was slowly starting to go away just like it had during the tests, and his body felt much lighter. So far so good, everything’s in order. His wings twitched experimentally, squished slightly by the back of the chair, and soft fledgling feathers tickled the back of his neck. Yep, definitely working.

“Grian, what on earth is this!?” Mumbo borderline squealed, and he finally blinked open his eyes. Mumbo’s face was white with shock and he was doing his best to cradle an equally bleary-looking and tiny Skizz in his arms. He was maybe five? Possibly four.

“You’re so loud…” He complained, “Jus’ gimme a minute to be sleepy.”

Mumbo spluttered. “No! I absolutely will not do that. Explain yourself right now!”

“You didn’t go through that transformation, I don’ wanna hear it.” He said calmly, pushing himself up from where he was slumped in the chair and stretching out his new body.

Skizz was more awake now, looking down at himself, then Mumbo, then Grian and back again, eyes growing as wide as dinner plates the longer he looked. “G, this is…”

“Terrible!” Mumbo exclaimed.

“Dope!” Skizz cheered, “D’you know how many kills I can get like this? I can fit into all sorts of little nooks and crannies, it’s like Sub-One Club all over again! Well, not you, Mumbo.”

“See? That’s the spirit.” Grian said, much to Mumbo’s befuddlement.

“I— You two— So, w-wait, how does this one work exactly?” Mumbo had the funniest look on his face as he tried to wrap his head around it all, and Grian giggled at him. Apparently Mumbo didn’t see the same humour in it as he did.

“Well, have a see!” He chirped, handing him a spyglass. Mumbo carefully let Skizz out of his arms, making an I’m watching you, stay right there gesture like he was a puppy before looking out over the server.

“Oh dear, oh my…” He turned back to them. “Does every team only have one adult? Is that it?”

“Eh, close enough. It’s random, so you’ve got a 50/50 chance of staying the same,” He pointed at Mumbo, “or being kiddy-fied. Skizz got real unlucky.”

Skizz scrunched up his face. “An’ why’s that now?”

“‘Cause you got real small. You can be a bigger kid or super tiny, and you got one of the tiniest.” He said matter-of-factly. Or, as much as he could. Even after doing a bunch of tests he could never get used to how silly his voice sounded in the kid form.

“Well, if I’m one of the tiniest, you gotta be, too!” Skizz pointed out, “You’re like the same as me!”

He was hoping to get away without anyone pointing that out, but alas. He knew from the moment he got his bearings that he had landed somewhere on the smaller end of the scale. He was hoping for bigger, but he could still cause plenty of mischief like this. “Yeah, but I’m just a smidge older, so I’m still better than you.”

“What!? You are not!”

“Am too, I tested it, remember? I’m seven, an’ you’re like five! I’m way bigger.”

“No you’re not.” Mumbo said, having finally at least slightly pulled himself together, and Grian pouted at him. Betrayal. “Mate, you’re six at most, maybe even five. Oh gods, you’re six, at most...” He muttered.

Grian patted him consolingly on the knee. “There there, Mumbo. An’ I’m not five! Avians are jus’ smaller bioj— bio— agh! Bi-o-lo-gi-cally.”

Mumbo dragged his hands down his face. “This is so strange… Right, so does that mean I’m like… Your parent or something? I don’t have to watch after you guys now, do I?”

Grian shrugged and hopped off his chair. “Not if you don’t want to. You’ll just be leaving two kids defenceless and all alone in the world, but I can’t force you to do anything.”

“Hey, I ain’t defenceless!” Skizz said, but Mumbo just shook his head.

“No, Grian’s right. I can’t- You two probably shouldn’t be left alone. Especially not Skizz, I mean— what if you die? I can’t have that on my shoulders.” He looked at them seriously, and Grian had to try his hardest not to snicker. “You know what? I’m gonna be the best darn parent on this server, just you watch. Come along now, it’s not safe up here.” He ushered them back over the bridge, pushing them as far into the safety of the middle as possible.

Skizz groaned. “Nice goin’ G.” He grumbled.

Grian just laughed.

-

“How am I s‘posed to get a kill with you hoverin’ over me?” Skizz complained, “No offence, but I gotta go this one alone.”

Mumbo waved him off, putting plates of toast and bacon down onto a makeshift table. “We can talk about that right after a bit of breakfast, how about that? We’ve got a lot more to think about than I thought this session.”

Grian grimaced at the bacon on his plate. Right. It had been an unfortunate few hours the day he had discovered during testing that indeed all of his biology returned to his child self after the transformation. Which meant regaining the digestive system of a young avian, which meant being unable to properly digest meat. He cringed at the memory of that tummy ache.

“What’s wrong, Grian?” Mumbo asked.

“I can’t eat the bacon ‘cause I’m a small bird now...” He said sadly, “Oh, that’s the worst thing about this whole wildcard.”

“More like the best! Yoink.” Skizz reached over and snatched the bacon off his plate and onto his own.

Mumbo frowned. “Oh. Do you want me to find you something else? Do you like… uh… seeds..?” 

The question was asked so hesitantly yet so genuinely that Grian had to pause for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. 

“L-Look, I don’t know, okay!?” 

“Ha ha ha— seeds! Seeds, Skizz! Hee-hee-hee!” It took him a solid minute to calm down, with the mental image of shoving a handful of straight wheat seeds into his mouth causing him to break down again every time he managed to get a grip.

Mumbo’s face was as red as an apple. “Yes, yes, I get it, no seeds. It’s really not that funny, is it?”

He wiped a tear from his eye and finally took a bite of his toast when he was sure he wouldn’t choke. “It really is… I’m just a veg-e-tar-ian, Mumbo, I’m not eating straight seeds.”

“Alright then, I’ll see if we have something else you can eat. You’re not going to be full on just toast.” He got up and began rooting around through their chests. Grian watched, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“He became a mum so fast, didn’t he?”

Skizz rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Listen, G,” He dropped to a whisper and Grian’s ears perked up. Whispers were the universal language of scheming. “I gotta get a kill and Mumbo’s never gonna let me go on my own. I need you to do something for me.”

“I’m listening…”

“I need you to keep ‘im distracted for me. Lead ‘im on a wild goose chase when he comes lookin’ for me, and don’t tell him where I’m goin’, got it?”

And oh boy did he like the sound of that idea. He looked over at Mumbo, who was still buried inside their chest monster, and nodded. “Now’s your chance to escape! Go, I won’t say a word.”

“You’re the best, G. I’ll be back with a green name.” Skizz hopped down from his chair and slunk away, making a shh gesture just before ducking out of sight and breaking into a sprint. Grian smirked to himself.

Mumbo returned to the table and Grian jolted back into a ‘I wasn’t doing anything suspicious’ pose. “So we didn’t have much. I’ve got you some carrots and glow berries, but— wait, where’s Skizz?”

Grian plucked the bundle of glowberries from Mumbo’s hand and popped one into his mouth.

“Grian? Where did Skizz go?”

He shrugged. It was technically the truth, he didn’t know where Skizz was planning to go.

Mumbo made an exasperated noise and ran his hand through his hair. “Already? I’ve lost one already! Grian, you must’ve seen which way he went. It’s not safe for him out there!”

“Mm, he went tha’ way, towards the Tuff Guys.” He lied through a mouthful of berries. He forgot how good these tasted. 

“Alright, well, you can eat these on the way. We’ve got to find him quickly, before he does something too rash. Oh who am I kidding? I’m sure he already has! Come on, up, up.”

“Can’t I just finish my breakfast?”

“Nope. Let’s go, show me exactly where he’s gone.”

-

Mumbo frowned. “And you’re absolutely certain he went this way?” 

“Mhm, definitely!”

Now, call him crazy, but Mumbo got the distinct feeling that Grian was perhaps lying to him. For being so certain that Skizz had run off to the Tuff Guys not long ago, their base was very obviously deserted. He knew this because Grian had insisted on searching the entire place from top to bottom, snooping behind every chest and scouring every nook and cranny that a five year old could possibly be hiding in. Now they were at Ren and Martyn’s base after Grian swore up and down that he saw a “very Skizz-shaped blob” running through the forest nearby.

“Ren, Martyn! Are you home?” Grian called. 

He had to admit, it was rather endearing to see Grian hopping about on his toes to get some height on the wall Mumbo was able to peer over with ease. Inside the walls he watched Ren haul Martyn up by the scruff of his shirt and away from where he had presumably been trying wrestling with their wolves just seconds before. As quickly as things had gone sideways with his adventure into parenthood, Mumbo supposed there were some small graces to be thankful for. Like not being forced to babysit Martyn.

“Ah, is that a little Grian I hear?” Ren said, “Hey, stop wiggling you— Come on in, dude!”

“Mumbo’s here, too!” Grian spun around and reached his arms up, making grabby hands at the air. “Gimme a boost.” 

Mumbo raised an eyebrow at him. He was most definitely capable of climbing up himself, but what could it hurt to humour him? “Uh huh. Is that we ask now?”

“Please.”

“Fine.” 

Grian’s little wings flapped as he hoisted him up and onto the wall, and Mumbo climbed over after him.

Ren flipped Martyn around so he was holding him like a bundle of planks under one arm and greeted them with a smile and a wave. “Good morning, Mumbo! What brings you two to our humble abode? I see you’re missing one, where did ol’ Skizzleman run off to?”

Mumbo watched as Martyn wriggled around uselessly in Ren’s grip. “Well, you see, that’s actually why we’re here. Skizz has run off by himself and we’re desperately trying to find him before he gets himself killed. Grian said he may have come by here, have you seen him?”

“Oh, I see. You’ve got a runaway, have you? Hey-!” Martyn started kicking, trying to clip Ren’s back with his shoes. “Fine, fine! You can go down. Go play with Grian or something, just no more wolf-wrestling!” 

Martyn turned to stick his tongue out at them as he and Grian ran off to their towers.

Ren sighed. “He really is a handful.”

Mumbo couldn’t agree more. “Don’t I know it. It’s not even been half a day!”

“So, like I was saying, I don’t think we’ve seen Skizzly around here. I could’ve missed him though, I’ve been trying to wrangle Martyn for the past hour. He’s just got so much energy.”

He chuckled. “I did see that. Was that what the wolf-wrestling was about?”

“I told him to find something to burn off some stink and apparently that translated into ‘go fight the dogs, Martyn!’. I swear, I don’t know if it’s a kid thing or just a Martyn thing.”

“Could be both, to be fair.”

Their chit chat was interrupted by a high-pitched whoop! from above their heads, and Mumbo watched in horror as Grian, lead tied around his waist, jumped from the balcony of Martyn’s sky base and dangled mid-air. Martyn sat crouched over the ledge, tying the other end of the rope to a fencepost in as many knots as possible with the most devious grin he had ever seen on a child.

Ren yelped. “Martyn!”

Mumbo felt faint. “Grian!”

Grian cheered as he swung himself back and forth, flapping his wings. “Look Mumbo, I’m flying! Wheeee!”

“Oh my gods, Grian, get down from there!” He almost couldn’t watch. At any moment the lead could slip off his tiny body or the rope would snap and Grian would plummet to his death.

“I can’t hear youuuu!”

“Martyn Littlewood you let Grian down from there this instant!” Ren shouted. Martyn looked conflicted for a moment, but Grian put a stop to that quickly.

“Never surr-en-der, Martyn! He’s not the boss of us!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that. I’m coming up there!” Ren marched over and began climbing the ladder, and then everyone was panicking.

“Uh, Grian? He might be the boss of us, what do I do!?” Martyn fretted. Where could Mumbo get some of those intimidation skills?

Grian flailed precariously and Mumbo flinched. “Uh— uh— I dunno! Wait, yes I do! Lemme down! Cut the lead!”

“What!?” Martyn and Mumbo yelled in unison.

“Martyn, don’t you dare!” Mumbo pointed as threateningly as he could from the ground. He couldn’t go up after them in case, admins forbid, Grian took a fall, so he could only watch.

Ren was closing in on them, and right as he got his head up the top of the ladder, Martyn made his decision and cut the rope. Mumbo’s stomach dropped.

“Mumbo, catch me!” 

And thank goodness, all of the reflexes Mumbo possessed in his entire body went into throwing down a bucket of water and diving into it to catch Grian just before he hit the ground. His suit was soaked through, his heart was beating like like a hummingbird, and he felt slightly dizzy, but Grian sat safely in his arms, barely a drop of water on him and cheering like he’d just had the time of his life.

“Yeah! Again, Mumbo, again!”

He let out a deep, shaky breath. “No. Never again. We’re leaving.” 

Grian flopped in his arms like a bag of sand. “Awwww…”

He looked up the tower, where Ren had a pouting Martyn by the shirt yet again. “Thank you for the information, Ren, but we’ll be on our way now.”

“Alright. Good luck, dude!”

He was certainly going to need it. 

From there, every single location Grian led them was turned out to be more chaos than the last. With each tizzy Grian got himself into, each hour of daylight wasted, the more frustrated Mumbo became. He was certain now that Grian was messing with him, leading him on some wild goose chase with no real end in mind. First it was dangling from Martyn’s tower; then it was letting out Gem and Joel’s farm animals where Mumbo not only had to deal with the squabbling of three children, but also put all of the animals back because he was the only one big enough to do so; then it was running off and playing hide-and-seek in a cave and forcing him to come find him; and then he tried to play chicken with the Four G’s explosive-trapped wheat fields. Now it was nearing evening, they had nearly toured half the server, and Skizz was nowhere to be seen. He had been kicked by a horse, shot by a skeleton twice in the caves, listened to tantrums, and nearly had at least three heart attacks. To say he was getting fed up would be an understatement.

And Grian appeared to be none the wiser to Mumbo’s irritation. In fact, he seemed hell-bent on making everything worse. It was obvious the wildcard was affecting Grian’s mind to an extent, but at this point he had to have known better. That was the most infuriating part of it all. He knew. 

Grian abruptly stopped walking in front of him and he bumped into him. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, I’m very fragile, y’know.” 

Mumbo clenched his jaw.

“Now that I think about it, I uh… I’m pretty sure I saw Skizz coming this way instead. Maybe BigB’s seen him.“

“And you’re sure? Because Grian, I’m going to be very upset if you’ve been lying to me this whole time and I’ve walked around the server for nothing.” 

Grian’s eyes flickered down to his communicator and back, then he flashed a big grin. “Yep!”

So into the dark oak forest they went. Even though it was pointless, Mumbo called out Skizz’s name as they walked to no response.

“Alright, Grian. I don’t know what-“ He turned around and Grian was nowhere to be seen. Again. “Oh for Pete’s sake! Grian, get back here!”

A familiar squeaky voice called back to him.

“Oh no! Zombies! Whatever shall I do!?”

He took a deep breath through his nose and stormed in the direction of Grian’s voice, sword drawn. Only when he found the clearing, there was just Grian, two zombie spawn eggs in his hands.

“Grian, don’t you dare—“

Two zombies were suddenly lunging at him, and while he was able to take them both down without much trouble, one did manage to get a hit on him. 

Grian giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world. “I got you!”

He was so distracted that he didn’t see the creeper crawling out of the brush towards him. Mumbo lurched forward and was just barely able to put his shield up in time to protect them from the blast. Grian stared at the creeper hole for a moment, eyes wide, and chuckled nervously.

“Heh, thanks for the save...”

Mumbo’s grip clenched around his shield. “Right, that’s enough of this forest.” He took Grian by the arm and half-dragged him back out into the open. Now, on top of everything, he was covered in dirt from head to toe.

Grian ruffled his feathers and brushed off the few specks of dirt he managed to get on him. “W-Well, Skizz clearly wasn’t in there. I think next—“

“No! No more, enough!”

Grian froze.

“What you don’t seem to understand is that I actually care about the wellbeing of this team! I’ve been trying to find Skizz to keep him safe, and instead I’ve been trying to save you from trying to kill yourself on purpose all day! Wasn’t it your idea in the first place for me to look after you!? What is it you want from me here, exactly?” 

And he got nothing. Grian didn’t have a single thing to say for himself.

“Forget it. We’re going home. Hopefully Skizz has found his way back, because I’m done for today. Let’s go.”

-

Grian’s eyes were glued to his shoes as they walked silently through the field.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be causing harmless trouble and Mumbo was meant to be pulling his hair out like they always did, but now Mumbo was angry at him. Genuinely angry. The thought hurt more than it should have, and tears were burning in his eyes against his will. He tried to remind himself that it was just the wildcard talking. He wasn’t actually meant to be so upset about all this, but he was. He didn’t want Mumbo to be angry with him, he was just trying to have fun. He was just trying to help Skizz, but now he’d made Mumbo hate him.

He glanced up hesitantly. Mumbo’s back was to him, but he could still tell how angry he was. He could hear the slow, forced breaths he was taking, he could see the way his hands were clenched around his sword and shield, he could feel it. 

Mumbo’s angry with you. He’s so angry with you. Why didn’t you stop? Would Skizz have been mad at you if you stopped? Was someone going to be mad at you no matter what you did?

The more he thought, the harder it became to keep the tears in. His throat ached, his eyes hurt, and his nose was getting plugged. He didn’t want to sniffle in case Mumbo heard him, but it was getting hard to breathe.

Finally, without him really noticing when, they made it home. 

“I’m going to bed early tonight.” Mumbo said, not turning around, “Keep out of trouble, alright? If Skizz comes back… I don’t know, at this point. Tell him to go to bed.”

And he was about to leave. He was about to go to bed and spare Grian from the humiliation of crying in front of him, but then the pressure grew too much, and his throat hurt too badly, and he really couldn’t breathe. He sniffled, and Mumbo turned around.

“Grian? Are you… crying?”

No, go to bed please, please go away. “N-No. It’s jus’ the wildcard acting up, I’m not-“ His voice broke. “I-I’m not—“

Mumbo frowned, concerned because of course he was. “Why are you crying?”

There wasn’t a reason, not really. He’d gotten yelled at, rightfully so, and now his stupid brain was making him cry. But when he tried to say that, nothing came out. Everything he was feeling felt like it had been multiplied by a hundred, suffocating reasonable Adult Grian who would have just apologized and moved along.

He hiccuped and scrubbed at his eyes as hard as he could with his sleeves like he might be able to make Mumbo un-see. Go away tears, go away. “Thi-is is so st—stupid, m’sorry.”

Mumbo knelt down in front of him. He looked guilty, like he was the onewho had to be sorry for today. “Is it… because I snapped at you?” 

He couldn’t bring himself to nod, but his silence gave it away. Tears finally began to slip down his cheeks and shame joined the cloud of emotions swirling around in his head.He knew needed to calm down, apologize properly, his breath was too hiccup-y and his body felt like he was going to explode.

“Would, maybe…” Mumbo opened his arms, “Would a hug help?”

He swallowed. It would. It would help so much, but he didn’t move. Mumbo shouldn’t be comforting him when he was the one who was bad all day. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Alright, well, my arms are getting tired now, so I’m just going to hug you, and you push me off if that’s not cool. How about that?” Mumbo wrapped his arms around him, and like a switch flipped Grian flung his arms around his neck, squeezing tight.

“M’sorry, m’really s-so—rry, I’m being dumb.”

“I don’t think you’re being dumb. You’re a kid— well, sort of, and being yelled at would freak everyone out. Even me, and I’m not in the body of a child.” He chuckled lightly, and why did Mumbo have to be so good at making him feel better? That wasn’t fair! He didn’t deserve it at all, he didn’t—

“What was that, Grian?”

“I-I said I don’ d-deserve this!” He cried, “I was bei-ng bad a-all day and now you’re tryin’ to make me feel better! T-That’s not how it’s s’posed to work! You’re s’posed to be mad at me!”

Was this a tantrum? Oh gods. He was trying to apologize and he was only making it worse.

Mumbo was quiet for a long moment, thinking probably. About what? How silly Grian was being? Or worse, about how he was pretending not to be angry for his sake?

“How about this,” He finally said, “You let me worry about what I should and shouldn’t be mad about, hm? And I’ve worried on it, and I say that I’m not angry anymore.”

No. That wasn’t what he wanted. Sure, a small part of him was cheering with joy that Mumbo wasn’t angry with him anymore, but the other part only got more upset. “O-Only ‘cause I’m crying…” He mumbled bitterly.

“Hey now, you’re not listening to me. I said I’m not angry anymore, I didn’t say why, did I?”

And no, Grian supposed he didn’t. He drew in his first proper breath in a while. “Then why aren’t you? ‘Cause you should be.”

Mumbo slowly eased them out of the hug and childishly, Grian wanted it back. “Well, because I’ve had time to calm down and think about it, just like you have.” Mumbo took a big deep breath, and motioned for him to do one too. “See? I also figured there was probably a reason you were acting that way. Am I right?”

Grian nodded. He supposed now was a good a time as any to give up the ghost. “Uhm… This morning, S-Skizz asked me to keep you busy s-so he could go get a kill in secret.” He admitted, “It wasn’t s’posed to go all day, but he never got a kill so I just kept going. I’m really sowwy, Mumbo.”

Wait.

Mumbo snorted, and Grian’s cheeks just about burst into flames. “Sorry! I meant sorry!” He hid his face in his hands, “Oh my gosh I hate this. Whose idea was this!?”

“Yours, mate.” Mumbo chuckled, standing and ruffling his hair. “Now come on, I wasn’t kidding about being knackered. It’s bedtime, for both of us.”

On cue, the ten minutes of crying finally settled over him, and he yawned. “Fine by me.” 

Instinctively he started following Mumbo up to the stair landing where he kept his bed, and the fact that he had his own across the chasm completely skipped his mind.

…Until Mumbo pointed it out. 

“Oh, coming to bed with me, are we?” 

Goodness gracious what was wrong with him? “R-Right! Sorry, heh, I’ll—“

“You can sleep here if you want. I’d say there’s enough room for two on this bed, with how tiny you are.”

“Well now, that’s just disre— dis- oh forget it. Mean.”

“Oh I know, I’m so cruel to you, Grian. Come on, hop up.” He held up the covers for Grian to climb underneath.

It was incredibly undignified, just how much he had to kick his feet and flap his wings to haul himself up onto the mattress, but he made it. He yawned again. Definitely time for bed.

Mumbo tucked them in soundly, and after one last quick check for mobs, laid down for the night.

“Goodnight, Grian.”

“G’night, Mumbo.”

-

Grian woke up what felt like only minutes later to the bed dipping. It was pitch black out, but the soft glow of Skizz’s halo lit up his face as he crawled up beside them. His eyes were still red.

“Mm... Skizz?”

“Hey G-man. Thanks for keepin’ Mumbo off my tail today. How’d it go?”

“All that, and you didn’t even get a kill?” He mumbled blearily, mostly to himself.

“Hey, rude. But listen, I have a plan, I just need some more time. D’ya think you can cover for me tomorr—“

Grian blinked at him once, twice, then rolled over and buried himself back under the blankets. “No way. Never again, Skizz. Never again.”

[ef-1]

Girl they nabbed your post and it’s doing numbers on the mansplaining app (reddit) hope they asked for permission

500 upvotes is rookie numbers :// remember when 22k upvotes for dragging McLaren?

[mostly-imagines]

Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”