#I'm out here making half of these up as I go
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entitled-fangirl · 3 days ago
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Apologies.
Jason Todd x deaf!reader
Summary: Dick says something too far to the reader, prompting Jason to kick his ass.
A/n: cursing, blood, teasing about being deaf
Masterlist
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"I'm not kidding, baby. Move."
Y/n stood between Jason and Dick, her hands out in a pleading motion against Jason's chest.
It started out innocent. Dick and Y/n had always gotten along. The two truly clicked like siblings. But like everything else, the teasing became too much.
He kept his eyes on the tear stains on her red cheeks- his motivation to beat Dick's ass.
She was always so lighthearted about the ordeal: having hearing aids. They were obvious on her head but after a while, they blended in. And Jason still had moments when he forgot they were needed. Mostly when waking in the morning next to her, accidentally frightening her when his arm snaked around her half asleep body.
But this was the line.
Dick had said a joke that was just a step too far. Jason watched something snap inside her, a wall finally caving in. Her eyes dulled and she excused herself.
That was twenty minutes ago. And now…
"I swear, I didn't mean anything by it," Dick pleaded from the other side of her.
Jason's jaw set harshly. "That's not a good enough reason for me, Dickybird." He stepped a bit further against Y/n to menacingly glare at Dick.
"Hey, hey," he pleaded.
"No. No." Jason knew she had left her hearing aids in the bathroom down the hall, so he held a large hand over her eyes to keep her from reading his lips. In a different scenario, that would be more amusing than it was now. "I'll fucking gut you."
"Tim, please tell him," Dick begged. "Help me out here."
Tim leaned over the side of the couch and craned his neck to see them. He watched for a moment, taking in each person. "Nah."
Y/n's hands patted Jason's chest to bring his attention back to her. Her voice came out in a slow, breathy whisper. "S-Stop." 
The brick wall that was Jason Todd paused. His hand rested on her cheek. His thumb brushed away the watery pathways the tears had left behind. He wanted to beat the shit out of Dick. He really did. But he'd do anything to cease the hurt look in her eyes. He reluctantly nodded.
Her eyes filled with relief. She leaned against his chest completely. 
He sighed and grabbed her hand that rested on his chest. He brought it up to his lips, kissing the palm softly.
A few hours later, Dick stood in front of Y/n, who was just trying to watch TV in the living room. Her body instinctively leaned over to try to see more of the TV but she soon realized he meant to talk to her. She opened her phone and disconnected her hearing aids from the TV to give Dick her full attention.
Dick stood with a defeat in his shoulders, a guilty look in his eyes, and a small ring of red around the inside of his left nostril. And now that she was really looking at it, there was a pink path soaked into his skin under that nostril as well. Like a past nosebleed.
"I know an apology does nothing but I can still try." He awkwardly rubbed his bicep. "I took my words too far. You're different from teasing Jason or Tim or Steph or…" his voice trailed off. "I just mean that I overstepped. You're like a sister to me but I still need to respect the fact that you're not. What I said was hurtful. Please forgive me."
He sounded so sincere. Like a hurt puppy. It would be hard to not forgive him when he's like this. 
"Course, Dick. I know you meant it as a joke. You'd never mean to hurt m-"
"-oh thank god," he collapses in front of her in pure relief. "Okay, I gotta thank you. I really do. I think he would've really killed me otherwise."
Brothers were so strange. "He wouldn't go that far."
"He'd go pretty far, Y/n. You make him nice."
She smiled. "No, I don't. He's just nice when he wants to be."
Dick's eyes almost fell out of his head his eyes became so wide. "Jason was NEVER nice. Not even before. You make him gentle."
"There you are," Jason mused as he entered his bedroom in the manor. 
She was lying on his old bed, a book in her hands. She was entirely engrossed in it. Only then did Jason realize her hearing aids were off. 
"Baby?" He cautiously stepped to her and pressed a hand on her shin. 
She jumped, almost throwing the book. Upon seeing him, she relaxed with a mockingly annoyed expression. 
Jason smiled and mouthed 'sorry' before grabbing her hearing aids off the nightstand. He tilted her head to the side. His fingers gently placed one on her before leaning in and kissing her cheek. "Dinner's in ten," he spoke softly against her skin.
She smiled and gave him a small peck to his lips. 
He was so glad her mood had shifted. As his hand placed the other on her, he asked. "How long have you been in here?"
She hummed. "Hour or so."
"Thought you wanted to watch TV," he pointed out. "You were on the couch when I left ya and now here you are." He was fishing for something.
She sat up a little more. "I had an odd conversation with Dick."
His brows shot up amusingly high. "Oh?" He asked. "And what did he say that was so odd?"
"He apologized."
"Hm. Good for him. Glad he came to his senses."
Leaning into him, she continued to feed him everything he wanted to hear. "It was rather sweet."
He nuzzled his nose into her hair, muffling his voice. "Just glad you feel better about it."
She let out a breathy chuckle, grabbing his hand and running her fingers over his knuckles. "Does it hurt?"
His shoulders tensed slightly. "'S what hurt, baby?"
"Your raw knuckles. From punching Dick in the nose."
He smiled widely at getting caught. It was all amusing to him now that things had passed. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Right," she huffed. 
"Dinner's soon. C'mon," he tutted, pulling her up from the bed.
At dinner, things continued as if nothing had happened. The tension was gone from everywhere but Jason's shoulders.
Y/n had remarked something quick-witted against Dick, prompting him to huff out, "C'mon! Listen to yourself!"
The entire table went from all laughs to dead silent, watching as if their favorite soap opera had just come on.
Jason's gaze hardened, his head tilting.
"Woah," Dick realized. "That wasn't even- That was just something I always say! Jason? No, Jason!"
Jason reached around Y/n's head, pulling her hearing aids off and keeping them safely in his hand. He stood over the table and pointed a finger at Dick, yelling god-knows-what at him.
Y/n looked to Cass for an interpretation, but even she shook her head with wide eyes.
She'd be expecting another apology from Dick later.
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charmedimsure · 3 days ago
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Think Differently
pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader
word count: 470
A/N: a short one today. trying my hand at writing thanos. i also just think it's really funny that he can't remember nam-gyu's name. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3
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Thanos' eyes scan through the crowd. He already has Gyeong-su and Nam-su, or whatever his name is. Now he just needs two more.
He smiles once he sees you standing alone, looking at the people around you. Thanos can tell you don't have a team yet, and he's more than willing to add a pretty face to his own. He makes a beeline toward you, the two boys behind him trying not to get lost in the crowd as they follow.
"Señorita, excuse me."
You turn around, not expecting to see the loud, purple-haired man smirking at you from between his posse.
"Let's play the game together."
You cock an eyebrow at him. "Do I know you?"
"You don't know him?!" Gyeong-su asks incredulously. "He's Thanos, the rapper. I'm gonna kill half of humanity with my raps."
Thanos watches as your lip quirks in amusement before covering your mouth with your hand, pretending to itch your nose.
Nam-su grabs his shoulder. "Hang on, a girl? We don't know what the game is."
Without a word, Thanos pushes Nam-su off him, still looking right at you. "I, Thanos the great, will protect you."
This time, you don't hold back your laugh. "Thanos?" The man gives you a cocky nod. "Where are the infinity stones?"
"Right here, baby," he holds his hand up to his face. You give an amused smile at his rainbow colored nail polish, each the color of an infinity stone. "I'm going to destroy anyone who gets in my way."
You take a step closer to him, mirroring his smirk. "Like how that man destroyed you and your little friend here yesterday?"
The smirk falls from Thanos' face. For once, he doesn't know what to say. He just stares at you, mouth slightly open.
Nam-su takes a step past Thanos. "You fucking bitch."
"Nam-su, stop," Thanos commands, putting an arm out to stop the boy.
The boy sighs. "Nam-gyu." Still, he listens and takes his previous place behind the rapper.
Ignoring Nam-su, Thanos smiles, bringing his hand in front of his face and pointing at you. "You have quite the mouth on you. I like that." He smirks to himself, thinking of what else that mouth could be used for. "What do you say? Join my team? Thanos will keep you safe."
You raise your eyebrows, a whisper of a smirk still on your face. "Is your team going to win? I don't play on losing teams."
"We'll win no problem," Thanos says confidently, feeling giddy inside when he sees a small smile form on your face.
"Then alright," you say. You take a step closer to whisper in his ear. "But if we lose, I'll kill you before the pink ones get a chance."
Thanos feels a shiver run down his spine. Oh yeah, he likes you.
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beloveds-embrace · 2 days ago
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I am absolutely Eating your angsty dukedom 141, I'm just scarfing it down ayejjrnf
But! Suggestion for the drabble of reader slowly fading into the bg without König there;
Hereditary illness exacerbated by stress.
It's mostly fallen into the cracks of reader's family history after her ancestor married into nobility- not a lot to be dangerously stressed about when you're waited on hand and foot by servants, after all.
But then once reader stops making any attempt to leave her room, servants have to start bringing her her meals, and they start noticing that she seems to be getting increasingly thinner despite the meals being at least half eaten. She seems more exhausted, her hands shaky and trembling, embroidery or painting projects left tossed in the corner of her bedroom after she couldn't hold onto the needle or brush, let alone do any precision work.
Gossip spreads through the servants of the Duchess being ill (though none seem particularly caring of this fact) until it starts to reach the boys' ears
Thank you!! I hope you enjoy this!!
The first sign that something was wrong- truly wrong- came when one of the younger maids hesitated outside John’s office. Her apron was wrinkled, and she kept wringing the cloth in her hands until the edges frayed. Kyle, always perceptive, was the one to notice her first.
“What is it?” His sharp eyes pinned her in place.
The maid flinched but didn’t run. Instead, she stepped forward, voice trembling. “I-It’s the Duchess, sir.”
That was all it took for the entire room to still.
John had been in the middle of correspondence, quill poised mid-sentence, but he set it down without finishing the word. Simon’s ever-present stoicism cracked, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table.
“What about her?” John’s voice, though even, had an undercurrent of tension.
The maid looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “She’s… ill, sir. She’s not been leaving her room-”
“We know that.” John interrupted, his voice a low growl.
“No- no, sir, I mean really ill. She’s not eating much anymore, but- she’s thinner, sir. Much thinner than before. And her hands shake something awful when she tries to hold a spoon or cup. I saw it myself when I brought her tea this morning… it’s- it’s been going on for a while now, we’ve all noticed but I just couldn’t- couldn’t stand back anymore, I’m so sorry.”
The words dropped into the room like a stone into a pond. And the silence that followed was thick, pressing, suffocating.
John was the first to move, striding out of the room with the others close behind him. The maid was left in their wake, her words repeating themselves in her head as though she’d spoken some terrible thing into existence.
They found you where you always were now- alone in the dim bedroom, wrapped in blankets but still somehow shivering. The curtains had been drawn tight, the hearth left to burn low, and the air was stale with disuse.
You didn’t even stir when the door opened.
John froze at the sight of you, the sharp tang of guilt clawing up his throat. He could see it immediately- the way your cheeks had hollowed, the slight tremor in your fingers as you clutched the edges of the blanket. The soft silk of your gown hung loose at your shoulders, as though it no longer fit the same way it used to. An old one- one you’d worn at the beginning if your marriage, still hopeful for companionship from a husband who didn’t care for you.
Kyle was the first to break from his stupor, stepping forward and kneeling at your bedside. “… Duchess?” His voice was softer than John had ever heard it, but it still seemed too loud in the suffocating quiet.
You stirred then, eyes fluttering open just enough to see him.
“Kyle?”
The hoarseness in your voice struck something in him- hurt him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
“I’m here, darling,” he murmured. He reached out, gently brushing his knuckles against your cheek, and frowned at how warm your skin felt. “What’s happened to you?”
You tried to sit up, but your body betrayed you, trembling with the effort until Kyle and Johnny had to steady you with firm hands.
“I’m fine.” You said. The words were paper-thin, weak and unsteady.
“You’re not fine.” John cut in, his voice harder than he meant it to be. You flinched, and it made his heart squeeze painfully.
Simon said nothing, but he hovered near the foot of the bed, his sharp gaze flicking over you as if committing every detail to memory. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, but what was there to do or say? He felt like he might break you should he even brush his fingers across your skin.
“It’s nothing.” you murmured, turning your head away.
“Nothing?” John repeated, dangerously low. He stepped closer, dropping to his knees at your bedside, one hand finding yours. “You think this is nothing?”
Your fingers twitched in his grasp, but you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t even meet his eyes.
“I know…” Your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut. “I know you don’t care. Why- why are you here now?”
It felt like the air had been knocked out of him.
“Don’t care?” John echoed, tinged with disbelief.
“None of you came,” you whispered. “Not once. I thought… I thought maybe it was easier for you that way. You- is this not what you wanted?”
Simon made a sound then- low and guttural- and moved to kneel on your other side, opposite Kyle. He reached for your other hand, lifting it carefully to his lips. His breath was warm against your skin, but you didn’t react.
“I’ll get the doctor.” Johnny said abruptly, spinning on his heel and leaving before anyone could stop him.
Kyle stayed close, his hand never leaving your shoulder, while Simon stroked your knuckles in slow, deliberate motions. But it was John who finally spoke.
“We should have come sooner,” he admitted, voice heavy with regret. “I should have come sooner. Duchess- I’m so sorry.”
You blinked, your lashes damp with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you?”
The words cut deeper than any blade.
He looked at you then, taking in every fragile, exhausted detail- the way your breath came too shallowly, the slight tremor in your fingers, the sheen of sweat on your skin despite the chill in the room.
“Because I was a fool,” he said softly. “Because I let myself think you were fine without us.”
You didn’t answer, but the way your fingers curled just slightly around his told him enough.
When Johnny returned with the doctor, the room erupted into motion. You were carefully propped up, fed broth spoonful by spoonful, your pulse checked, and your temperature taken. The doctor’s diagnosis was both alarming and infuriating- stress-induced illness, made worse by malnutrition and exhaustion. It wasn’t until he began asking about your family history that the pieces truly started to click.
“You’ve been predisposed to this,” he explained, while they watched in silent, setting horror. “It’s genetic, though dormant in most cases. But stress- particularly prolonged stress- can trigger it. I’d wager it’s been simmering for weeks, if not months.”
Months.
Kyle and Johnny exchanged glances, and Simon looked like he was ready to tear someone apart. Mabe himself.
John didn’t move from your side.
“What does she need?” he demanded.
“Rest. Food. Care. But most importantly…” The doctor’s gaze swept across all of them. Rumors flew with the wind, and he was still not old enough to lose his hearing. “No more stress.”
John nodded firmly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll have everything you need.” He promised.
But his words held no particular weight to you.
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unluckilyimnot · 3 days ago
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Habits bllk boy
Characters: sae, rin, chigiri, reo, nagi, otoya, isagi, kaiser
Fluff / no tw / 900+
Note: I'd like to know what you like me doing the most, hc, os (long or short), one character or even multi fandom? I'm curious!
m.list | rules
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Sae - doing his skin care with you
If you don't have a skin care routine, then now you do. He's really serious about this, and you probably get tired of getting side eyes all the time. It's nothing much yet it makes him feel good, sharing simple moments like those is precious to him with his busy life. That's how he prefers his night to start, whenever with music – yours or his – or without ; he's just next to you, watching you putting product after product on your skin and there's almost the shadow of a smile on his lips. Bonus points to the night where you two sit in front of a series or a movie with sheet masks on and snacks next to you.
Rin - listening to your music with you
He could easily put his headphones on while you put your music on while getting ready or doing your makeup – if you do wear some – but he actually likes knowing what you're listening to. It's kind of intimate to him, he likes to share his music with you as much as he likes knowing what you like. He even has a playlist composed only with music from yours and he wishes you never found out (you already did). Along with that, he's obviously the type to make you a playlist when he feels like it or when he misses you.
Isagi - checks on you
He's a little anxious about everything, nothing crazy but I feel like he's the tense one before traveling you see ? Well because of that, Isagi will always make sure you're at ease, feeling good, stay hydrated, and put sunscreen on. You almost fell ? He grabbed your arm and then never let your hand go. He's always asking you if you're good, probably over a hundred times a day. He just wants you to be safe. He's extra caring and comprehensive when you're tired or overstimulated and you end up annoying or cold. He doesn't mind much, he just wants to make it easier for you.
Otoya - have a hair tie just in case you need it
The second your hair is long enough to be tied, he has one around his wrist. He knows you have one too, but he also knows that you share yours a lot and don't always get it back so he's there for that. The second he notices that your hair is bothering you, he doesn't hesitate to put it behind your ear or tie it for you. He loves the texture of your hair between/against his fingers, and the scent when it just got washed. He generally really loves your hair, so he's always here to hand you a hair tie.
Kaiser - leans his hand next to yours
He's not gonna take your hand just like that, no matter how people think he will, I'm sure he won't because he prefers when you're the one who catches his hand. It makes him feel wanted, needed and Gods know it wasn't always the case with closed ones. Letting it lands oh so close to yours, just so your picky are touching in a feather like manners, yet he doesn't move any more closer to your hand, patiently waiting for you to break and hold his hand, winning a so prideful smirk as he look at you with a look you know too well.
Nagi - lean on you when he's tired
You can be laying in bed, up pouring yourself a drink ans looking for snacks – anywhere in the house, Nagi will find you and lean onto your shoulders as if he was the small one in the relationship. You might think he's cute, he is, but he always make sur to put half his weight on you, crashing you behind him so you HAVE to go to bed so you don't die because of it. He does it outside as well but it's less harming. He simply leans in his head on your shoulder, wraps his arms around your waist if you're up and whines because he's tired and wants to go home. People find it endearing a lot – let alone when you shuffle his perfect white hair with a soft smile, telling him you'll be leaving soon.
Reo - get you something to drink
You're busy, he knows that better than anyone else, and if you're not he'd rather have you resting so it's his duty to take care of you. It doesn't matter if he has to order it in a coffee shop or to make one himself for you while you're at his place or his staying at yours, he'll make you something hot to drink before you can even think about how you need it. He'll get a tea pot ready for you, already sweetened if that's how you take it – same for coffee. He'll be kind but demanding toward anyone making your drink, making sure it's done well but will always leave a huge tip because that's what you'll do.
Chigiri - wash your hair for you
Chigiri likes his privacy but less when it comes to you, so it doesn't happen all the time but you two regularly take shower/bath together. That's when he started to wash your hair for you. That way he can take care of it and treat it nicely because he knows you don't always have the energy to do so. You'll always have a nice scalp massage that makes you mmh in satisfaction and he's always gonna laugh at it a little. But he loves it a lot because he gets to see you relax under his fingers after a long day and that's enough for him.
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Let me know if you liked it !
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the-modern-typewriter · 3 days ago
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Hiii! Could you please write some hurt comfort hero and villain? Where it has a “who did this to you” vibes! Thanks! No pressure if you don’t want to!
"You look..." The villain's gaze travelled slowly up the hero, taking in the hard lines of them, the uncanny iciness that had replaced a once warm, familiar face. "Different."
"And you look like hell. Let's get you out of here."
Despite the fact that the hero had just blown the villain's chains to smithereens, the villain didn't move. They leaned heavily against the cold concrete wall of their cell, still staring.
The hero's fingers flexed agitated at their sides.
"I can - if you're hurt, I can help you stand. I don't - you're safe now."
It was like an act they didn't know how to play any more. The script was the same, but the tongue behind the words was a sharper thing. A whittled thing. Made hard and venomous with desperation. Like the world had taken an axe to everything that made the hero them and started hacking.
"Who did this to you?" the villain demanded.
"What?"
"You're all..." Their head lolled, as they tried to tilt it customarily to one side. Their broken fingers hurt too much to wiggle them effectively in the hero's direction, but they did their best. "Not you. All..."
"They hurt you," the hero said. Flat. Deadly.
The villain wet their cracked, swollen lips. Their voice came out raspy. "I heard screaming."
"Yeah." Something dark and protective simmered in the hero's eyes. It looked awfully a lot like 'they deserved it'. Like how the villain's eyes used to look, through a mirror darkly, until the pain scorched through everything cold and steely inside them.
"You killed people. You killed...you came for me."
"We need to go," the hero said, through gritted teeth. "We need to get you out of here. Come on." The hero ducked down, only to falter when their gruff tug immediately made the villain's whole world go fuzzy with hurting. The touch turned gentle as the villain flinched. The hero's hands floundered, like they no longer knew the language of caring, but still remembered that they wanted to try.
A stupid prickle of tears stung the villain's eyes.
"Who did this to you? Who-"
"-Please," the hero said. "Put your arms around me. You need to work with me here. Please."
The villain wrapped their aching arms around the hero's shoulders. The hero lifted them up, holding them oh so carefully. Being upright was still enough to make the villain's vision pop and then blacken.
When they regained consciousness, they were walking through a slaughter house. Blood everywhere. As if a hurricane given teeth and claws had ripped through the building.
"Did I do this?" the villain asked.
"No, love."
But that wasn't quite right.
"No, I mean - I was gone," the villain said. Their head felt so fuzzy with everything they had been given, but the sharp edges of the hero were so clear, if only they could find the words to paint the picture half as well, let the knowledge swirling inside them settle. "You were on your own. How long have you been trying to rescue me?"
"It's going to be alright, okay? I've got you. You're alright."
"Are you?"
"I'm not the one who's been tortured!" It came out a snap, and maybe the villain should have flinched after an eternity of raised voices and raised weapons, but they didn't.
"You don't do so well on your own," the villain said instead, softly. "You never have."
The hero's throat bobbed as they swallowed, convulsive, choking something down. "Don't."
The villain raised a hand, rubbing their thumb over the gaunt line of the hero's face.
The hero flinched back.
"It's going to be alright," the villain said. "You're going to be alright. I've got you."
"You -" The hero laughed then, a broken thing. They jerked their head to the side but it didn't hide the tears glinting in their eyes. "Maybe let's not focus on me right now. You were - what they did to you - they told that they - I should have got here faster."
"I'm sorry they used me against you."
"Don't."
"Tell me their names?"
"They're all dead."
"Tell me anyway."
"I killed them."
"I know, love. Tell me anyway."
The hero swore, but the villain could practically watch some life creep back into those icy eyes. Some horror. Some thing that wasn't a stranger. Their hero. The hero held them a little tighter, cradling them a little closer against their chest.
"Just - later. Let me get you help. You need help."
Well, the villain couldn't argue with that. Still. Their own body didn't feel half as perturbing as the way the hero's eyes iced over again, determined to see through the job, to not shatter no matter what they'd done to get to where they were. To get the villain back. To save them.
They tucked themselves closer to the hero's chest, to their heart - thumping proof of life, proof of hope, proof that maybe they hadn't entirely lost the thing they cared about most of all.
Who did this to you?
But the villain didn't really need to ask.
The answer was always their own name.
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deansbeer · 3 days ago
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★ in his arms, the world fades // clark kent.
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synopsis. feeling unwell and overwhelmed, you seek comfort in clark's arms. his warmth, soothing touch, and sweet words make the ache in your stomach—and your heart—feel bearable.
warning(s). fluff | comfort | f!reader | s1!clark | reader feels unwell stomach aches | nausea | difficulty eating | mild angst | distressing moments | academic stress | brief mentions of exams | studying | cuddling | kisses | superman references.
kari yaps. last night, i had horrible stomach pains and wrote this <333 + a lil disclaimer! i'm on ep 5 of smallville (the ads on hulu r mad annoying) so i only know a little about clark. but don't worry i will get to know all ab pookie soon !!! trust <33
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it starts with the ache. sharp and twisting, like someone's wringing your stomach out like a wet rag. it's been days now—days of barely keeping food down, of your appetite wavering between nothing and everything, only for nausea to win every time. eating has become a battle, and losing feels inevitable. but you haven't told anyone, not really. maybe it's pride. maybe it's not wanting to worry anyone. maybe you're just hoping it'll go away on its own.
still, it lingers, and today's no different. you pull up to the kent farm, the gravel crunching under your tires, the sight of the red barn and yellow farmhouse somehow grounding you. you're supposed to be here to study. algebra—not exactly something you're excited about, but clark's always been good at making the hard stuff easier. it's one of the many things you love about him: his patience, his steadiness, the way he seems to know when you need a little extra reassurance. and maybe you need that today more than ever.
"hey, pretty girl," clark greets you at the door, his smile soft and familiar, like it's meant just for you. "you okay? you look…" he trails off, squinting at you in that way he does when he's trying to figure you out. "…tired."
you force a smile, shrugging it off. "just didn't sleep much last night."
it's not a lie, exactly. the ache had kept you up most of the night, twisting and turning beneath the covers, unable to find a position that didn't make it worse. but clark doesn't need to know that. not right now.
he nods, stepping aside to let you in. "i made us some lemonade," he says as you follow him up the stairs to his room. "my mom said it's good for focus or something. i don't know, but it tastes good."
you hum in response, though the thought of drinking anything right now makes your stomach churn. you'll figure out a way to avoid it later.
when you get to his room, it's the same as always—neat but lived-in, the bed made but the desk cluttered with papers and books, a small stack of cds next to his stereo. it smells faintly of pine and something distinctly clark, like sun-warmed hay and fresh laundry. it's comforting in a way you didn't realize you needed.
you settle on the floor with him, textbooks and notebooks spread out between you. he's already flipping through his algebra book, pen tapping idly against his knee as he scans the pages.
"okay," he says, glancing at you with a smile. "where should we start? graphing inequalities or quadratic equations?"
you groan, letting your head fall back against the bed. "do we have to start?"
he chuckles. "the exam's next week. i don't think mr. phillips is gonna let us wing it."
"worth a shot," you mutter, but you sit up anyway, flipping open your notebook to a blank page. you try to focus, really, but the ache is still there, dull and persistent, and it's hard to think about numbers and graphs when all you want to do is curl up in a ball and sleep.
half an hour in, you're staring at your notebook, pen tapping against the paper. clark's voice is distant as he explains something about parabolas, the words blurring together in your head. you're not even sure when you stopped listening. all you know is that your chest feels tight, your stomach twists again, and suddenly, you just can't anymore.
"hey," clark says, his voice soft with concern. "what's wrong?"
you don't answer, don't even look at him. instead, you set your notebook aside, shifting closer to him until you're wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of it. his skin is warm against your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering there. you don't say anything, and neither does he, not at first. he just sits there, still and quiet, letting you hold on like he's been expecting this all along.
then, slowly, he moves. his arms come around you, strong and steady, and he shifts your things aside before effortlessly pulling you up with him onto the bed. his back hits the mattress, and you're lying on top of him, your head resting against his chest. his hands find your back, warm and soothing as they rub up and down in slow, gentle strokes.
you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. his touch is enough to warm you, enough to quiet the ache in your stomach, at least for now. you don't know how he does it—how he makes everything feel a little less heavy just by being there.
your hands move to rest on his collarbone, fingers brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt. the side of your head presses against his chest, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. it's grounding in a way you didn't know you needed.
he doesn't say anything at first, just keeps rubbing your back, his touch slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly how to calm you down. but then he starts murmuring soft, sweet things in your ear, his voice low and soothing.
"you're okay," he says, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "whatever it is, you're okay. i've got you."
his hand moves to rest on the side of your head, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your hair. he presses another kiss to your temple, then another, each one softer than the last.
"you don't have to say anything," he whispers. "just let me hold you."
and you do. you let yourself relax against him, let yourself melt into his warmth. his chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and strong, and you match your breathing to his without even realizing it. the ache in your stomach is still there, but it feels distant now, muted by the way his hands move against your back, by the way his voice wraps around you like a blanket.
"you know," he starts after a while, his voice still soft, "i'm not great at algebra either. but i'm pretty sure lying here with you is a way better use of my time."
you let out a quiet laugh, your breath fanning against his chest. "you're supposed to be the responsible one."
"yeah, well," he murmurs, his fingers threading through your hair, "even superheroes need a break sometimes."
you tilt your head to look up at him, catching the small smile playing on his lips. "superhero, huh?"
"what? you didn't know?" his grin widens, teasing. "i'm kind of a big deal."
you roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "you're ridiculous."
"maybe," he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "but i made you laugh, didn't i?"
you hum in response, letting your head fall back against his chest. the silence that follows is comfortable, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket. his hand moves back to your back, tracing slow, lazy patterns against your spine.
"i mean it, though," he says after a while, his voice quieter now. "whatever's going on, you don't have to go through it alone. you can tell me."
"i know," you whisper, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "i just… i don't know. i've been feeling off lately. stomach stuff. it's probably nothing."
he frowns, his hand pausing mid-stroke. "how long?"
"a few days," you admit. "it's not a big deal. it'll pass."
"you don't know that," he says gently. "have you eaten today?"
you hesitate, and that's enough of an answer for him. he sighs, his hand resuming its slow movements against your back.
"you're stubborn, you know that?" he murmurs, but there's no heat behind it. just concern, soft and steady, like everything else about him.
"takes one to know one," you shoot back, your voice muffled against his chest.
he chuckles, the sound rumbling beneath you. "fair enough. but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse, okay?"
"okay," you say, and you mean it. because if anyone can make you feel like everything's going to be okay, it's clark.
you stay like that for a while longer, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world fading away. the algebra books are forgotten, but neither of you seems to care. right now, this is enough. he's enough.
and for the first time in days, the ache in your stomach feels bearable.
⎯⎯ SPECIAL TAGS. @titsout4jackles @floralscented @aileenunfiltered @st4rfckerz @jasvtsc . . . ୨୧
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just-some-random-blogger · 2 days ago
Note
YOU ALWAYS GOT ME CURLING MY TOES KICKING MY FEET SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP
“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.
🧍‍♀️ ???? This rat really acting like it was a coincidence when he nearly yanked my soul out my skeleton hello???? He's so stupid
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I'm tryna be ur wife fool
He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.
THAT SHOULD BE ME
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His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.
WARN ME EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY EXISTENCE
“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.
I fuckin knew I would forget the context of this... Gimme a sec... OH NVM I REMEMBER FUCK IM SO DUMB YEAH YOU AND ME BOTH BESTIE HELLO
He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”
Literally me (I hate this gif I am legally obligated to say how much I hate it but equally find it hilllllllarrrious mdkdkdkksk)
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You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.
IMPURE THOUGHTS ONLY. I LITERALLY WENT I WILL LIKE HIM LIKE A LOLLIPOP FRESHLY SHOWERED JUST TO GET HIM DIRTY PLEASE I WANT HIM SO BAD
“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”
🧍‍♀️😭✋ he is an icon. he is the moment. HES SO FUNNY. GEORGE IS GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU THOUGH BUT YOU DID IT FOR THE COMEDY
“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.
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We ain't leaving till our skins wrinkly as fuckkkkk HAHAHAHHAH
“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.
I WILL LITERALLY GIVE HIM HIS OWN QUIDDITCH TEAM. MOLLY WEASLEY AINT GOT NOTHING ON ME
Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?
Honestly me at Oliver: (the crowd goes fucking mild)
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How does he think not dating will help? The call of a man who's never felt the touch of a woman
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“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.
😭CON😭GRA😭TU😭LA😭TIONS😭 HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY LIFE
Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”
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A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.
BROOOOOOOOOOO GEORGE OUT FOR BLOOD HES LEGIT ALMOST KILLED A MAN INSANE BEHAVIOR HELLO?????
Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.
AND THATS ON PERIODT. MY MANNNNNNNNNNNN IS THAT GWORL
“Are you questioning my aim?”
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GAGO KA GEORGE GEORRGGEEEE IM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT YOU HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL GAGO
He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”
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I WANT HIM
A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.
I wish he was real ): (he's real to me)
“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”
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BEAUTIFUL STUNNING GORGEOUS LOVELY UGHHHHHH 100000000000/10
Hii there!! Can you write something about George Weasley where he and the reader have been really good friends for a while but start secretly dating because of some stupid rule like quidditch players can’t date during the season or something like that? And they get caught by their friends being intimate after a game?
Ps: love your writing style so much, your fics are so easy to get into and beautifully written💕
thank you for the request! hope your enjoy 🫶
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| George Weasley x fem!reader
cw: light smut (heavy petting/making out), sneaking around/secret relationship, jealous!george, assault via bludger, oliver wood is a cock block.
MDNI 18+
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You were walking down the hall with Luna, chatting about the results your divination exam, when a hand shot out and yanked you into a dark, empty classroom.
“Fancy seeing you here,” your captor said in a very familiar, cheeky voice.
“You can't just kidnap me, Weasley.” You cross your arms over your chest, jutting out a hip.
“Kidnapping is a bit dramatic.” George’s hands slide around your waist. “Can't a bloke want to spend a few moments with his girl?” He leaned down, his lips brushing along the column of your throat.
You craned your head back for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Perhaps. But still, some warning would be nice.”
His lips connected with yours in a soft, languid kiss. “Consider yourself warned,” he grinned.
You breathed a content sigh, taking your fingers through his ginger hair while he peppered featherlight kisses along your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids. The last few weeks had been so challenging thanks to Woods new rule about dating during Quidditch season.
You and George had been circling one another since fourth year, waiting for the right moment to dip your toes into something more than friendship. And of course, when the stars finally aligned, Wood had to throw a wrench in your new relationship. So now, instead of basking in your honeymoon phase, you were forced to sneak around, hiding your relationship from everyone.
But Fred, obviously. George couldn't lie to his twin even if he wanted to.
“You're in your head, darling,” George murmured, pulling back to look at your face in the dim light.
“Am not,” you argued, dragging your hands down his chest and sliding them under his robes. The sweater beneath was soft and thick, warm from his body heat.
“What are you thinking about?” He kissed your temple, across your cheekbone, beneath your ear…
You hummed, leaning into him, soaking up his heat, his unhurried affection.
“Love?” He prodded, nipping at your ear.
“Just how much I like you,” you whispered, resting your chin on his sternum when he pulled back.
A smile spread across his freckled face. “My sweet girl,” he cooed. “I like you too.”
You pressed your lips to his, brushing your tongue along his lower lip, and his hands tightened on your waist. He parted his lips for you to delve deeper, matching every stroke of your tongue with his until you were panting, clawing at his sweater to get closer.
He backed you against a desk, his hand sliding under your skirt to squeeze your ass, notching your hips against his. A gasp squeaked for your throat when he ground himself against you, already growing sensitive.
He chuckled. “Gonna to have to be quiet f’me, love. Don't want go get caught with a Beater, aye?”
You nodded, clamping your lips shut.
The Quidditch season was only three months. How hard could it be?
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Quidditch practice ran late for the third night in a row, and you were desperate for some attention from your boyfriend.
You lurked by the Gryffindor locker rooms, waiting for George to emerge, freshly showered in his favorite hoodie and sweats. Your mouth nearly watered at the thought.
But player after player trailed out of the locker room, and no George. You were getting impatient, shifting form foot to foot when you spotted Fred walking with Ron, chatting animatedly about the match this weekend.
You grabbed Fred’s wrist and yanked him to the corridor you were hiding.
“Oi! What—oh, hey y/n.” He smirked down at you, waggling his eyebrows. “Wrong twin, but—”
“Ew, Fred! No! Where's George?”
Fred snickered. “Still in the shower. Pitch was muddy and he got a face full from Thomas.”
You grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah, he was livid. But, he's the last one in there if you want to cheer him up.” Fred winked and slipped back into the hall, leaving you to your mischief.
You scampered down the corridor and into the locker room, following the trail of steam until you found the only drawn curtain. George was humming to himself, tapping his feet on the tile floor.
You clapped a hand over your mouth to avoid laughing and ruining the surprise, and perched on the bench across from the curtain to wait.
A few moments later, the water cut off and his hand poked through the curtain, grabbing the red towel off the hook.
The curtain ripped open, and George yelped in surprise, nearly dropping the towel slung low around his hips.
“Fancy seeing you here.” You grinned.
“You little minx.” He grabbed you off the bench and into his still damp chest, kissing you fiercely. “I was just about to come see you,” he said between sloppy kisses, backing you against a row of lockers.
“Were you?” You giggled as his lips moved down your neck, sending tingles skittering across your skin. You dragged your nails cross his bare back, admiring the way his muscles jumped at your touch.
“Couldn't stand another night without you,” he admitted. He started undoing the buttons of your blouse, clearly feeling as desperate as you did based on the tent in his towel.
“Eager, are we?” You teased, hiking your leg over his hip as his hand slid into your skirt.
His middle finger swiped through your slit, teasing your clit with small circles. Pleasure pulsed through you, making your eyes roll back. “Someone is. Already soaked for me, love,” he groaned, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss as he toyed with you.
“Fuck, Georgie,” you whined, bucking your hips against his hand.
“Merlin, I missed you.”
“Weasley, you still in here?” Wood called his voice echoing around room.
“Bloody fucking—stall, now.” George slipped his fingers from you and into his mouth, ushering you into the shower stall he just vacated. The air was still humid and scented by his vanilla body wash. No, your vanilla body wash, you realized, spotting the bottle you'd been missing still sitting on the shelf.
“Still hangin’ around, Wood?” You heard George say.
“I wanted to talk to ya’ about somethin’,” Oliver said, and you saw his boots enter the shower room from under the curtain.
“Can I put trousers on first?”
Oliver snorted. “Sure, mate.”
You heard George shuffling around, pulling on his clothes.
“Fucking trousers don't hide shit,” he grumbled to himself and you had a stifle another laugh. “Alright, Wood. What's on your mind?”
“You've been distracted, Weasley. Missing bludgers, ignoring plays, it's not like you to not take Quidditch seriously,” Oliver said, and you frowned.
George sighed. “It's, ah, there's an assignment in Herbology that's gone tits up. Damn plant won't grow,” George said.
“Uh huh,” Wood answered, clearly not buying it. “Well, maybe it's time your sort out your priorities, mate. Not sure a plant is worth throwing the season, if ya’ know what I mean. We need our best Beater, yeah?”
Your stomach dropped, indignation at Woods words colliding with the newfound guilt in your mind. George loved Quidditch. You didn't want to be the reason he wasn't playing well. But also…what if that meant Quidditch was higher priority to him? Where did that leave you?
“Understood, Captain.” George's voice was cold, a stark contrast to his usual chipper demeanor, and it raised goosebumps along your arms.
Oliver clapped him on the shoulder and left the locker room, evidently oblivious to the shift in George. The door clicked shut behind him, echoing around the empty room.
George tugged the shower curtain open, startling you from your spiralling thoughts. He immediately clocked the distress on your face, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Oh, lovey—”
“I didn't know I was impacting the team,” you mumbled, looking down at your shoes.
George tilted your chin up, his other arm wrapping around your waist. “Baby, the teams fine. Wood just has a stick up his ass. I played great today, and always do when you're in the stands watching me.”
It was true. Some of his best games had been in the last month you'd been together.
“And besides, I don't need to sort out my priorities.” He bumped his nose against yours. “You always come first, y/n.”
Your heart soared, heat creeping up your neck. “Before Quidditch?” You asked, curling your hands into his hoodie.
“Before everything.” He kissed you softly, with no real pressure, just feeling you against him, and all your anxiety fell away. “C’mon, Freddie's going to a Hufflepuff party tonight, so we've got my dorm to ourselves.”
You kissed him again, smiling. “Sounds perfect.”
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Brooms whizzed over your house’s section, whipping your scarf around your head.
“Go George!” You cheered, when he drifted nearby, twirling the bat in his gloved hand.
He flashed you a wink before banking left, whacking the snot out of bludger that was hurdling straight for Ron. It rocketed across the pitch and directly into the other houses Seeker, giving Harry the advantage.
“Woohoo!” You cheered with the rest of the student body. “Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”
“Good game, aye?” A guy sidled up next you, leaning against the railing. You sort of recognized him from your Potions class, but couldn't be sure.
“Great game,” you replied, turning your attention back to the match and your boyfriend.
“Are you fan? Of Quidditch, I mean?”
“Mhmm—go Ron!” You cheered, tuning him out.
“I'm Gus, by the way. We're in the same Potions class?”
“Hi, Gus.” You give him a tight smile, hoping he takes the hint.
“Y’know, maybe we could study together sometime. Merlin knows Potions isn't my strong suit, but you seem pretty smart—”
“Get after it, Harry!” You roared as the Seeker flew overhead, the snitch just a few feet out in front of him.
“What do you think, y/n?” Gus prodded.
Irritation prickled up your neck. “I'm not sure I have time to tutor someone.”
Gus’ smile faltered. “Well, what about the next match, then? Maybe we could sit together.” He scooted closer you, infringing on your already limited space.
You squirmed closer to your friend on the other side of you, who was too wrapped up in the match to notice your discomfort. “No thanks, Gus.”
“Oh, c’mon. I promise I'm a nice guy.” He dropped his hand on your knees, and you wrenched yourself away.
“Don't fucking touch me—”
A deafening crack sounded from across the pitch and you both startled, turning back towards the match. A bludger was barreling straight towards your section. You screamed as it slammed into the post less than half a meter from Gus' head, ripping through the wood with a resounding boom and scattering splinters across the section.
You jumped back, falling into your friends laps, and Gus shrieked like a banshee, his face blanching white at how close it had come to taking his head clean off his shoulders.
An ear-splitting whistle interrupted the resulting chaos.
“Weasley, out!” Madame Hootch hollered.
You straightened in alarm, finding George hovering at the center of the pitch, his bat gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes were locked on Gus, dark and smug, a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth.
“George, land!” Wood bellowed, and George finally floated back to earth. You could hear Oliver shouting, but couldn't see George from your seat.
You fought your way out of the stands, trying to push your way towards the locker room.
Gryffindor was booing the call, chanting “Weasley!” at the top of their lungs. Without George, unless Harry caught the snitch, the match was basically forfeit.
Your mind raced from the adrenaline. Did George do it on purpose? And if he did, why would he jeopardize the match like that?
You found him in the locker room, undoing the ties on his robe. He was still in his uniform, sweaty and smeared with dirt, his hair flat from the helmet.
“George,” you said, and he looked up.
“Love, what are you doing down here?” He frowned, reaching for you, but you held your ground, crossing your arms over your chest. His frown deepened.
“Did you do that on purpose?” You demanded.
“Of course I did,” he responded, not a trace of hesitation in his voice.
“Why? They won't win without you!”
“I don't care about the bloody match, y/n.”
You blinked at him. “What?”
George walked over to you, cradling your face in his gloved hands. “That guy was bothering you, yeah?”
You almost denied it, but found yourself nodding, unable to lie to him.
“And you thought I was going to sit back and let someone make you uncomfortable? My girl? Fuck no.”
You giggled, his protectiveness spurring a wave of affection and dissolving your anger. “I think nearly killing him was a bit much,” you snickered.
“Are you questioning my aim?”
“Just your sanity.”
He pinched your cheeks together in his still gloved hand, shaking you slightly. “I'll always protect you, brat. And if that makes me a madman, so be it.”
You swatted his hands away before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for kiss. He tasted of salt and peppermints, his skin smelling of turf and fresh air, with a hint of that masculine musk that made your head go a little fuzzy.
He kissed you back, catching your lower lip between his teeth and sucking gently. You moaned against him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth and taste you.
“I'm done hiding,” he murmured when you both came up for air. “And Wood can bugger off.”
The mixing shouting of the crowd filled the quiet air around you. “Ravenclaw scores another twenty points!” Lee declared, his voice notably unenthused.
George shook his head with a smug chuckle, leaning his forehead against yours. “See? They need me.”
“Weasley!” Oliver shouted, startling you both. George looked up, tightening his grip around you. Oliver didn't even bother to act surprised. “You're back in,” he sighed.
A grin split George's handsome face, making your heart flutter.
“Good man,” he replied, dropping a peck onto your lips before doing his helmet and running back out onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd.
“Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!”
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Thank you so much for reading!
If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.
Much love,
Allie
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siddyyyyyyyy · 3 days ago
Text
Comfort
Damian Wayne x Batsis!Reader
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wc: 1.3 K summary: your younger brother tries to comfort you when you're sick. warnings: none, fluff, platonic, no y/n used a/n: I'm doing this because i dont want to live, so here you go. (divider)
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It started with a sore throat after patrol. Nothing too scary and you made yourself a warm tea to make it go away before going to sleep. But it was bold of you to assume that it won't get worse overnight. Tea isn't medicine after all.
It started to get worse in school, the next morning. You noticed the tremors going through your body and light sweat covering your skin as you went through each period, but you didn't want to skip the day just because of that. So, you powered through, even when you felt like a walking zombie by the end of it. After you managed all your classes, you get back home and make the agonizing way upstairs. Entering your room felt like heaven, being reliefed that it's over, but now you have to take care of yourself somehow.
Settling down in the kitchen, you make another hot tea and slice up some fruits, in hopes the vitamins will make you fitter. You sit down at the kitchen table with a light grunt, only now noticing the terrible aching of your limbs.
To make your throat hurt less, you take a few careful sips before you take a few small slices and try eating them. It feels refreshing but swallowing them down feels like getting sand paper getting shoved down your throat. And taking sips of hot tea doesn't help your case. So, you give up on eating the whole plate and leave it half-finished at the table. After downing the last sips of your cup, you move back upstairs and snuggle into your fuzzy blankets.
It feels heavenly and you wait for the shiver to go away, starting to warm up slowly under the mountains of blankets. Still in school uniform, you take a short nap, which didn't feel satisfying or restful at all. Your body keeps shivering and your head is pounding with a dull ache, not even being able to relax fully by yourself. Being fed up and still sick, you slowly creep your way towards the Batcave since your first aid kit in your room doesn't have medicine, and the most useful stuff should be down there.
Your aching limbs manage to carry you down to the elevator, eventually getting to the medical section of the batcave. The cold climate of the cave doesn't help you, only making the shivers become more violent. But you find the needed items for your fever and some for your runny nose, eventually turning around to get back upstairs.
There stands the smaller but chilling creature, your younger brother. You jump up and almost let the packets of medicine down before you compose yourself quickly
»What are you planning with the medicine? Are you sick?«
It's clear by his tone that he's worried, but he still frowns up at you, arms crossed tightly.
»Uhm... « That came more as a croak, clearing your throat as you try to speak up properly. »Yeah... fever. « You finally manage out and sigh out afterwards, which only results into a coughing fit.
Damian leans away lightly, even though you're coughing into your inner elbow and try not to face him while doing so. With narrowed eyes, the younger teen gets the medicine from your hands and nods to the elevator.
»Please go upstairs and try not to slip and die. I will handle this for you.«
Despite his rough approach at this, you know that he only means well. With a softer expression, you get back into the Mansion and you make your agonizing way upstairs all over again. Finally there, you change into more comfortable clothes and collapse back onto bed. Waiting for Damian to return, you do nothing but stare up at the celing tiredly, and wish last night wasn't so rainy during patrol.
But you don't have much time thinking about it, hearing a short knock before Damian steps in with a bigger tray in hands. He comes closer and sets the tray on to your night stand, looking you over again.
Damian prepares a few pills and hands them over to you with a cup of water. »Take these.«
After swallowing down the few meds, you finally take in what's on that tray he brought in. There's a steaming cup of tea and a bowl of soup, a smaller plate with garlic bread and there's also a banana. He rubs the back of his neck as you take it in, eventually taking the bowl and almost salivate.
»I wish my nose would be working right now...« You rasp out, voice being mostly broken due to the fever and your stuffy nose. Damian presses his lips tightly together, eventually gesturing to the tray.
»Eat up. I know it's not the best, but at least you'll be better afterwards... do you need anything?« You shake your head at his words and start eating the warm soup, feeling like you might just descend into the sky. Your younger brother eventually quits your room and trusts you to rest up, even though he'll make sure to check up on you every now and then.
After finishing some of the soup and fresh garlic bread, you got back into your sheets and took a proper nap. Your fever went slightly away during that time, still feeling a bit cranky when you wake up. It's later into the evening and you're unsure if you can patrol tonight. Your determined mind, however, comes up with every excuse to go out anyway. A few moments later there's a short knock at your door before Damian enters again, checking up.
»How's your fever?« He asks straight away, coming up to the edge of your bed. You shrug lightly, leaning back against your headboard.
»Better, I think I'm healing up. Was just a bit dramatic earlier.« Knowing him, he will definitely be against going out on patrol with you tonight. So, you wait for his answer, but he doesn't and simply presses the back of his hand on your forehead. He frowns lightly, letting go after a moment.
»You're not dramatic. But that fever is dramatic. You need rest.« He stubbornly crosses his arms and tilts his head up, trying to look down at you this way. It makes you huff out, shortly after getting another coughing fit. Damian proves himself right and grins lightly, eventually handing you the banana you didn't finish up.
»Eat. I'm sure father won't you let out tonight either.«
And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves your room without further argument.
You stay in your bed for the rest of the evening, getting another portion of food from Damian for dinner. This time it was a salad and some warm mashed potatoes, saying that you should eat some light food but with enough nutrition. It does make you feel satisfied and you take another nap without even realising.
He quietly takes the dishes out of your room while you sleep, eventually leaving you alone again to rest up plenty. And indeed, when Bruce finally goes up to check up on you, he won't let you go out to patrol and instead makes sure that Alfred will keep an eye on you, ensuring him that you won't sneak out.
Now bored and sick, you do your studies as best you can, but eventually give up on them as well, after being unable to concentrate due to your growing headache. Falling asleep another time, Damian comes back inside after patrol and tucks you in properly, carefully laying your studies away and takes you in briefly before leaving to his own bed. He would be lying if he said he isn't worried. He almost panicked when he saw your pale and tired face back in the Batcave, having thought something way more serious has happened. But even after taking care of you like this, he still feels a tiny bit concerned. Be assured you'll be made fun of once you get back on your feet.
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pboogerswbb · 3 days ago
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SO IT GOES - chapter 6
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Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)
-
Before London
You need a ride to work tmr?
I don’t but thank you x
My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 
I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.
“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.
I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.
“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”
“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”
“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.
Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”
Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?
I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.
“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.
“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”
I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.
“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.
“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.
-
“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 
Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.
“Paige?”
“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.
“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.
“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.
“Paige Madison.”
I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.
“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”
“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”
“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.
“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”
“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.
“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”
“Huh? Tell you what?”
“Is this about a girl?” He asks.
I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”
“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.
“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”
“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”
“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”
I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.
“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.
“Okay kid, love you.”
“Love you dad.”
The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.
But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.
No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.
Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-
“Paige?” 
Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 
Quick, improvise.
“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”
She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.
“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.
“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”
She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.
“You been resting?” I ask concerned.
The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”
“Izzie…”
“What?”
“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.
“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.
“Let me in.”
“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.
“I won’t. I’m built different.”
Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.
Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.
“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.
“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 
“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 
“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.
“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.
My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.
“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.
“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.
“What?”
“Iz, you’re sick!”
“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.
“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.
“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.
“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.
“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”
“A nest?” Izzie laughs.
“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”
Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.
“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”
“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.
“Lemme take care of you ma.”
She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 
“The cabinet above the microwave.”
“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.
“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 
“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”
“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.
“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.
“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”
“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”
“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”
She giggles. “Immune system powers?”
“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.
“Paige?”
Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.
“Y-yeah?”
She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”
-
“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 
“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 
The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 
“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.
“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”
The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”
We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.
My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.
Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.
Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.
Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 
“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.
“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.
“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.
“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.
“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.
“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.
“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.
“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.
“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.
“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”
She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.
“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”
“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”
“She went to Uconn with you, right?”
The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”
I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”
She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”
I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.
“The party… Iz, I-”
“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.
“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”
“Paige?”
“Yeah mama?”
“Kiss me.”
-
It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.
I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.
I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.
So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.
“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.
“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.
“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”
God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.
“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.
“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 
As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.
“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”
Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 
“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”
“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”
Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.
I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.
“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 
“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.
“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”
She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.
“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”
Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.
I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.
“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.
“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.
“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.
“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.
-
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hanniebaeee · 2 days ago
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Neon Heat
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Felix x fem!reader
Warnings : drinking, making out MDNI
Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, suggestive
Summary: You are at the pub with your friends, and you're confused by the signs on the bathroom doors. But a sexy stranger helps you out, and then you go on to become more than strangers.
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Ok, so this is a problem.
Your bladder is so close to bursting, the two beers you had with your friends demanding an immediate release. You don't understand how your friends have already started on the third one already. 
But now staring at the bathroom doors, you are trying to comprehend which is which. Obviously you've seen those signs before - in your biology textbooks.
But seeing it on bathroom doors? You're confused. And being tipsy isn't helping your situation either. 
One had a circle-and-line (♀️) symbol and the other had some kind of arrow sticking up (♂️).
Which was which?
Your brain tries to connect the dots through the haze of your tipsy buzz. Circle… arrow… wait, what? Who thought this was a good idea? You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes as if staring harder would magically give you clarity.
“Need some help there, love?”
The voice startles you, deep and smooth with a hint of teasing. 
You turn to see the owner of the said voice. He's tall and leaning casually against the wall with his dark hair framing his face neatly. He was dressed in all black - looking way too classy and sexy to be standing here with you. 
His brown eyes sparkle like he knows exactly what kind of effect he is having on you. And even under the dim lighting of the rest area, you can see a dusting of freckles over his skin. And it made him look even more hot somehow. 
You blink, momentarily forgetting how to function as a human being.
“Uh - what?” you stammer, trying not to look as affected as you feel.
He grins and says, “The one with the arrow sticking up? That’s the men’s room. Think of it as a…you know...easier to remember.”
His eyebrows raise suggestively as he point upwards, and then he winks.
He winks.
You blush instantly, and you could feel the heat creeping down your neck.
“Oh. Right. Arrow. Up. Got it.” You nod like an idiot, still staring at him like he’d just descended from the heavens. “Thanks for that. Um.. I gotta-”
“Of course, glad to be of help,” He says, and you bolt into the right bathroom, internally screaming because that did not just happen!!
By the time you calm yourself (and your bladder) down and get back to your table, your friends immediately notice your flustered state.
“What happened?” Jennie asks, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“Are you ok?” Jisoo adds, leaning in conspiratorially.
You take a sip of your drink, trying to play it cool as you tell them you're just tispy. Of course the playing cool part doesn't last long because Mr. Freckles was sitting at a table right across from yours, laughing with some other (hot) guys. 
You look away quickly, and try not to glance his way after that. Also failing, because the next time you do, he's already looking at you.
Oh yes, he is. 
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The night rolls on, your friends chatting and laughing, but you are only half-listening now. Because his gaze is searing, heavy with intent, and you could feel it in your core.
He looks ethereal under the neon lights and honestly, it was starting to get to you now.
At one point, he leans back in his chair, stretching lazily, and tilts his head toward the exit.
The message was clear: Meet me outside. You watch as he stands up, and walks out, your eyes following him all the way to the exit. 
Your pulse skyrockets. Is this really happening?
This isn't something you do. You don't like casual relationships or hook ups. Hell, you didn't even know his name. But there was something about him that made you want to follow him out. 
Ok, so if this is how you die, then what a pity, because you are already on your feet. 
The girls look up at you, and Jisoo, the always the sharpest says, “If you're going home with him, I'm gonna be so mad.”
“Oh my God! I won't!” You hiss, cheeks heating up. 
“Don't have too much fun!!” Jennie sings as as you make a beeline for the exit. 
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The cool night air hits your face as you step out into the dimly lit garden behind the pub. It is quiet except for the muffled bass of music thumping from inside. You barely have time to wonder where he is when you spot him. 
“Thought you might leave me hanging.”  
Bathed in the soft glow of fairy lights, he looks gorgeous. His hands are shoved into his pockets, his posture relaxed, but the intensity in his eyes was anything but relaxed. It doesn't look like he is here to play around.
“I wasn’t sure if you were-” you admit, your voice quieter than you intended. “I don't do one night stands or hookups or whatever.”
“Oh, I wasn't looking for one.” He steps closer, his smile returning. “You’ve been driving me insane all night. So I wanted to know if it was just me, or if you felt it too.”
Your breath hitches as he closes the distance between you.  
“What exactly did you have in mind?” you asked, trying to sound confident (your body is betraying you in more ways than you can count right now).
“I would take you out first. You know, buy you some flowers, take you out to dinner. Talk. If you're interested, of course.”
“Oh.” Loss of vocabulary - you couldn't think of a sentence to say. 
He reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.
“In our case, I think we'll have to shuffle it up a bit…” He says, before his lips meet yours soft yet firm, and yes. You're gone. Completely. 
His hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up as he deepened the kiss. You can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his tongue teases yours. 
And he responds with a low hum that vibrates against your mouth. 
The kiss turns heated quickly, his hands sliding down to grip your waist and pull you flush against him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, earning a groan from him that sends a shiver down your spine. 
“God,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “You’re going to be the death of me.”  
“You started it,” you tease, your voice breathless as you nipped at his bottom lip.  
He chuckles, but it quickly turns into a sharp intake of breath as you tug him closer. His hands slip down the curve of your hips, and he presses you gently against the brick wall of the pub. 
“What's your name, sweetheart?” he whispers, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that have your knees buckling. 
“Y/N,” you say, pulling him back up to your lips. “And yours?”
“Felix,”  
You lost track of time as the two of you melted into each other, the kisses getting more heated, and the feeling of his hands on your body getting more familiar.
Eventually you both pull back, panting and disheveled, and exchange soft smiles.
“So, about that dinner… does tomorrow sound good? I don't want to wait…” Felix asks, moving a strand of hair off your face.
You nod happily, and say, “Sounds perfect.”
“Good. I'll pick you up at 7?” 
“Ok,”
“And come prepared? ‘Cos I'm taking you home,” He says, his teasing grin back on again. “Maybe teach you a little about the signs…”
“Oh my God, Felix!” You laugh, and he laughs with you. 
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After exchanging numbers, and one kiss too many, you two walk back to your own tables where your respective friends tease you endlessly for this. 
Jennie and Jisoo are on you for the juicy details and you give in, dying of happiness and also embarrassment - because honestly, this isn't how you pictured finding love.
As the boys start getting ready to leave, Felix glances at you, and you smile. That seems to have snapped something in him because he comes over to press a quick kiss to your cheek (making the boys go feral with laughter), and your own friends watched in amusement as you both said your goodbyes. 
“See you tomorrow,” Felix whispers. 
“See you,” You say, and watch him leave. 
And you squeal in joy making Jennie and Jisoo laugh. Because this feels great. 
Like it's meant to be. 
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Divider - @saradika-graphics
Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l
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myownwholewildworld · 2 days ago
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Love is heartbreak
↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic
pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics
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“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.
You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.
With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.
In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.
Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.
And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.
“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.
But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.
At least his was.
“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”
You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.
Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.
“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”
Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.
And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.
“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.
“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.
Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.
“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.
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35 years later...
“Father, may I marry her?”
Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.
As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.
“At least, for me, it isn’t.”
That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.
He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.
And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.
His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.
“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”
“But—”
“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”
“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.
Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.
“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.
Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.
“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.
Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.
“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.
In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.
“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.
His heart literally stopped.
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A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.
The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.
Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.
Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.
One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.
You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.
You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.
Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.
Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.
Marcus. Your Marcus.
Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.
Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.
So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.
Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?
“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”
Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?
You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.
“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.
“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.
“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”
“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”
You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?
“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.
He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.
The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.
Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?
You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.
“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.
“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.
Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.
By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.
“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”
Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.
That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.
“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.
The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.
Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.
The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?
Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.
“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.
Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.
“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”
Marcus nodded.
“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.
“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.
Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.
“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.
“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.
You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.
This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.
Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.
“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.
When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.
“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.
Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.
You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.
“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.
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Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.
Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.
At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.
That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.
But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.
Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?
“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”
What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?
Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.
In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.
He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?
As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.
You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.
“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.
He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.
His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.
As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.
“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.
You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.
“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”
Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.
You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.
“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.
As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.
For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.
But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?
Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”
You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.
“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”
The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.
The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.
“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”
“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.
Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?
“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.
But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.
You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?
“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”
Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.
“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.
The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?
In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.
You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.
Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.
“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”
His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.
“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.
Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.
You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.
You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.
How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.
But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.
Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.
His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.
The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.
You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.
Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.
“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.
One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.
“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”
Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.
“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.
The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.
Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.
“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.
Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.
“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.
You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.
He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.
You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.
Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.
“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.
“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.
He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.
Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.
You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.
A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”
“I love you,” he whispered instead.
Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.
Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.
A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.
“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.
Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.
“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.
You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.
Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.
“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.
Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.
“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”
You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.
“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.
His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.
It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.
You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.
Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.
His smile was instant, and so was yours.
For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.
Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.
“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.
Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?
The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.
You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.
“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.
The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.
Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.
“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”
The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.
You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.
“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.
There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.
“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.
“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.
The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.
“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”
The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.
“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”
Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.
“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”
Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.
He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.
“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”
“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”
His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.
“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.
“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.
“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”
“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”
He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.
“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.
Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.
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arc-misadventures · 3 days ago
Text
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.
Within the frozen tundra stood a small flag, it's red cloth gentle waved in the cool, Atllas air. Around the flag it was peace, it was silent, it was tranquility incarnate. A tranquility that ended in a plume of fire, and metal shrapnel.
The peace of the frozen tundra had ended. The peace ending with the deafening cries of war.
The gun's of, Mantle were ready.
~~~
: Direct hit!
Jaune watched through his binocs as the red flag they had planted in the frozen fields of, Atlas evaporate into a plume of fire, smoke, and snow. Jaune put down the binocs, and turned to look at the newly promoted, Colonel Kian, shouted triumphantly as the howitzers hit their intended target dead on.
Colonel Alden Kian, in charge of all the newly built artillery batteries, and weapon emplacements upon, Mantle's walls. Jaune liked to think he developed a good relationship among fellow officers, even if, Jaune really felt like one.
Col. Kian: And, with that, all weapon emplacements have been built, and properly calibrated.
Jaune: Well done, Col. Kian, and to you as well, Maj. Skender. The forces under your command managed to compete the wall, ahead of schedule at that.
Maj. Skender: Thanks, Jaune, Yeah, I'm glad we listened to your suggestions. Honestly, I'm surprised that we got this done far sooner than we expected.
Jaune: It was just a suggestion, Felix. I will tank none of the credit, it was all you, and your men's work that finished the walls ahead of schedule.
: A duty well done at that.
Jaune, Maj. Skender, and Col. Kian all turned to see, General Ironwood as well as, Specialist Schnee approaching them. The trio as well as any other soldiers on the wall saluted the, General as he walked upon the ramparts.
Ironwood: Well done, Maj. Skendor, thanks to your efforts, the new fortifications for the walls of, Mantle have finished well ahead of schedule. With that in mind, how soon can your forces return to building the new, CCTS?
Maj. Skender: Uhhh... We should be able to start in a we...?
Skender was about to answer, General Ironwood, but he saw, Jaune holding up a single finger, giving him a clear sign of what he had to say.
Maj. Skender: In a day, Sir. We just need to reorganize, and require all of the necessary equipment. This should take no longer than a day, day, and a half tops.
Ironwood: Oh, that's good! That's very good to hear, Major, I look forward to hearing your progress in the coming days.
General Ironwood then made his way to leave. As, Jaune watched him leave, his eyes locked on with, Winter's, who shot him a wink as she left. Jaune watched them until he was out of earshot where he let out a tired sigh, followed by several others. But, most noticeable, Major. Skender was cursing up a storm.
Maj. Skender: Gods fucking dammit, Jaune! It going to take me at least a week to grab all of our gear to start working on, Ironwood's pet project! Why the hell did you tell me to speed things up?!
Jaune: Because, General Ironwood wasn't her to celebrate the walls completion, he was here to make sure you got back to work on his stupid project. Besides you just need to divide your forces; half starts working on the CCTS, the other gets your gear.
Col. Kian: He's right, Felix. The generals sole focus was on his project, he doesn't give a damn about the wall. If it wasn't for, Jaune donating his winnings, it never would have been built!
Maj. Skender: I know that! I'm just blaming him for all the shit they're going to give me now!
Jaune: Wait, hold on. Why are you saying I'm the one donated the funds, the winner of that game donated the funds.
Col. Kain: Yeah, but everyone knows you're the one who managed to convince, General Ironwood, and you're the one whose been presenting, Robyn Hill as the one who really got this thing going, but everyone in the, Engineer Corp, and the Gunnery Crews know it was you.
Maj. Skender: Yeah, this was the first time, General Ironwood ever showed his face around here. He only agreed to this thing as a PR stunt. He's only focused on his stupid 'secret project.' You're the only one in the upper brass that gives a rats ass about the wall, and Mantle.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: Okay, it wasn't my idea, I got the idea from, Robyn Hill. But, how the hell did you even know I was the one who donated the funds for the wall?
Col. Klen: My wife is a secretary, and secretaries like to gossip. One of them heard the donation was from one of the, Specialist, and that, Specialist also convinced, General Ironwood to build the fortifications on the wall. And, since you're the only, Specialist who's shown to give a damn about the wall. It's gotta be you.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: Haa...
Jaune: Does everyone know it was me?!
Jaune looked around, and saw several of the gunnery, and engineers all nodding their head, and making sounds of agreement. Jaune just slapped a hand to his face as a tired groan escaped his lips.
Jaune: Gods dammit...
Jaune: If the secretaries know it was me, everyone in the whole of, Atlas, and Mantle probably know it was me.
Maj. Skender: Yeah.
Col. Klen: Pretty much.
Jaune: Haa... Do you know any of my other secrets?
Col. Klen: You, and, Specialist Schnee are a thing... of some sorts.
Maj. Skender: Rumors say, Robyn Hill has got a thing for you, since you saved her from that assassin fellow.
Jaune stared at the two officers, his face was a blank, the only thing showing any emotion was the way his eye was twitching aggressively.
Jaune: ...
Jaune: FUCKKKK!?!
SK: ...
Col. Klen: I hope he, and Specialist Schnee become a thing... They look good together.
Maj. Skender: Wife is rooting for him, and Robyn Hill. She thinks they look cute together.
Col. Klen: They do look cute together.
Jaune: Shut up!
SK: Sorry, Sir!
~~~
Robyn: Wait... Members of the, Atlas military know about your thing with, Winter Schnee, and about our thing too?
Jaune: Yes, it seems the well kept secret wasn't that well kept enough!
Robyn: It was a secret?
Jaune: Not anymore, because secretaries like to gossip! And, the blooming romances between a pair of, Specialists, and a Specialists, and a politician seems to be todays latest hot topic!
Robyn: Oh, is that so?
Robyn: ...
Robyn: Am I winning?
Jaune just stopped to stare at, Robyn, giving her a blank stare as she cheekily smiled back at him.
Jaune: I liked you better when you were this cold, politician who hated me because I was a, Specialist working for, General Ironwood. Not this cute, blushing, teasing girl from a high school romcom!
Robyn: You think I'm cute~?
Jaune: Shut up!
Jaune sighed in defeat as, Robyn was laughing at his expense. He decided it would be for the best if to change the topic back to what he had originally came here to inform her about.
Jaune: Ahem! Anyway, I am here to inform you that the wall's fortifications have been finished, and we will be going back to work on, General Ironwood's secret project. And, with that, the elections for a new council member will be held in just over a week. So, are you ready, 'Councilwoman' Robyn Hill?
Robyn: I am most looking forward to it! The polls that have been going around saying that I am a sure in to win the election! Hey, Jaune?
Jaune: Hmm?
Robyn: You'll keep your promise; you'll tell me what, General Ironwood's secret project is if I win, right?
Jaune: Unless by some miracle he tells you himself, I'll keep my word, Robyn, and I'll tell you what he's up to.
Robyn: I'll hold you to that, Jaune. Well, I still got to keep my guard up, just because their already setting up the voting booths doesn't mean I've already won.
Jaune: Voting booths? Why do they need to set them up, they're just boxes you put paper into.
Robyn: They're electronic, it takes them a few days to take them out, and set them up.
Jaune was walking about, his mind running with ideas on how, Robyn could challenge, Ironwood's authority. But, all these thoughts were brought to a screeching halt when, Robyn said that one word.
Jaune: They're electronic? The voting boots are electronic?
Robyn: Yeah, been that way for years.
Jaune: Do you know where they keep these voting booths?
Robyn: Not originally, but I do know they set them up at one of the community halls near here.
Jaune: If you'll excuse me, Miss Hill.
Jaune quickly turned, and made his way out of the, Happy Huntresses Headquarters.
Robyn: Wha...? Jaune, where are you going?
Jaune: To win you this election.
~~~
Community Hall #7. Aka, the Dust Miners Den.
Jaune had entered the community hall flashing his credentials as a, Specialist to gain entry. And, now he was, what one would call interrogate one of the technicians, grilling him on all of the operating's of the voting booths.
Jaune: Tell me, Jirina, how do this machine operate.
Jirina, a olive haired snake faunas, if one could assume so based on the scales on her forehead, and slit yellow eyes was fidgeting around nervously. It was understandable reactions, it should be expected when one of, Atlas's Specialist suddenly showed up, and demanded how to do their job.
Jirina: W-Well... The system works by simply tapping a name on the screen, thus counting this as a vote. That vote then gets sent to a datahub where the votes are all tallied up.
Jaune: The machine says, 'Yes,' and 'No.' You're not putting in the names of the electoral candidates until the day of the election?
Jirina: Yes, this prevents cheating.
Jaune: 'Prevents cheating?'
Jaune moved over, and tapped the yes button on the screen. It closed out, and a popup appeared saying, 'Thank you for voting,' then another screen appeared saying waiting for election official to reset.
Jaune: You have to reset it every time someone votes?
Jirina: Yes. After everyone votes, we, the voting regulators, have to swipe our id cards, and input a eight digit code to reset the machine.
As, Jirina did just as she said when she reset the machine, taking her no more than ten seconds.
Jaune: Interesting... Are you capable of knowing how many voted, and who they voted for on your tablet there?
Jirina: Ahh yes... See?
Jirina handed, Jaune her tablet, and he saw on the tablet a total amount of votes, five, and there was, two votes for, 'Yes,' and three for, 'No.'
Jaune: Are these numbers for each of the machines here?
Jirina: Yes, we have four voting booths here, and we 'vote' at least once on each machine to test them.
Jaune: And, all of the information of the votes is sent to a central hub that tallies up the votes, the location, and other such things?
Jirina: Yes, that is how it acts.
Jaune: So that's how he could do it...
Jirina: Do... do what?
Jaune: Nothing that you need concern yourself with, Ma'am.
Jaune was still looking at the screen on the tablet, when he heard the door open behind him. He turned to face them, as he saw someone enter the room. One, Penny Polendina to be precise.
Jaune: Ahh, Penny you made good time getting here.
Penny: It didn't take me long to get here. Now, you asked for my help?
Jaune: Yes I did; See this electronic voting booth here?
Penny: I can. But, why do you want me to do that?
Jaune: I want to see if it can be done, and if you can, what else you can do.
Penny: Okay.
Jirina: Wait, you can't hack these systems; They have been given advance firewalls, and cybersecurity to prevent such things fro...?!
Penny: I've hack the voting booth.
Jirina: W-What?
Jaune: That didn't even take you thirty seconds; Impressive. Now then can you change the text on the screen for who you can vote for?
Penny: Can I change it. Wat do you want me to make it say?
Jaune: It doesn't matter, I mostly want to see if you can.
Penny: Okay. I've changed it.
Jaune: Okay let's...
Jaune looked at the voting booth, the screen now read, 'I'm sorry for.' and 'forgetting you, Jaune.' He stared at the screen for a moment before hitting the one that said sorry, and then the reset banner appeared.
Jaune: Penny can you reset the machine?
Penny reset it in a flash, only this time it read, 'I had a virus,' and 'It was making me forget.' Jaune looked at the screen, then to the tablet in his hand.
Jaune: There are six votes in total, evenly split, can you make it five to one?
Penny: Okay.
Jaune watched as, Penny reset the votes were five to one. Jaune watch it, and as the voting was rewritten as, 'I'm sorry, Jaune,' and 'Can you please forgive me.'
Jaune watched this all happen as he handed the tablet back to, Jirina.
Jaune: Thank you for your time, Jirina. Penny, let's go. I need to have a word with, General Ironwood, and I need you there with me.
Penny: O-Okay, Jaune...
~~~
Ironwood: The voting booths can be hacked?
Jaune: Yes, Sir, very easily at that. It took, Penny her barely thirty seconds to hack the machine, and completely rewrite the system.
Ironwood: Is this true, Penny?
Penny. Yes, Sir. Specialist Arc asked me to come down to one of the voting stations, and asked me to hack the system.
Ironwood: And, why did you ask, Penny to do this, Specialist Arc?
Jaune: I heard that the election being held in, Mantle was being held in a week. I was curious about how, Atlas does things. When I went there I found out that you use electronic voting booth. I saw several posters of the people running for election, and I saw one of the posters was for, Robyn Hill. I remembered her assassination attempt, and how destabilizing her death would be for, Atlas, and Mantle. I think a similar effect would happen if she lost the election, not to the same extent, but nonetheless.
Jaune: After, Penny hacked the system, I found out she was able to manipulate the votes in several different ways; From changing the names, resetting the machines, and even alter who got the total amount of votes.
It was another partial lie, Jaune caught himself noting that he often gave, General Ironwood such answers when he asked him about anything. It got the job done in the end.
Ironwood: To what end did you do this for, Specialist Arc?
Jaune: If, Penny can manipulate the systems so easily, what can a person like, Arthur Watts do?
Ironwood: You're worried that he will rig the election in his favour?
Jaune: Yes, Sir. I recommend we replace the voting machines with paper ballots to insure, Salem, and her minions do not interfere with the elections.
Ironwood pressed his fingers together as he solemnly nodded his head.
Ironwood: This is a wise decision to make. I'll make the necessary arrangements. Well done, Specialist. You may have undermined, Arthur Watts in a way we did not expect.
Jaune: Thank you, Sir!
Ironwood: Now then, head to the meeting room, Specialist Ebi wants to discuss a mission with you. Your dismissed.
Jaune: Sir!
Jaune saluted, General Ironwood, and made his way out of his office. as soon as he was out of the room, a tired sigh escaped his lips. He stood there for a moment as he steadied his nerves. He had made a gamble to try. and get, General Ironwood to replace the voting booth with paper ballots. He knew, General Ironwood wouldn't give a damn about paper ballots considering it had nothing to do with his, CCTS project, but nonetheless.
He had to play his cards right with him.
Jaune: Okay... Let's go see what...?!
Penny: Jaune!
Jaune stopped in his place as, Penny came up to him, a nervous jitter in her stance as she looked at him.
Penny: D-Did I help you?
Jaune: Yep, you did precisely what i hoped you would do. Thank you for helping me, Penny.
Penny: Oh... t-thank you, Jaune.. I... oh?
Penny stopped talking as she felt, Jaune's hand on her head, gently ruffling her hair.
Jaune: I know you want to apologize to me for all that has happened, Penny, but you must understand: There is nothing you need to apologize for, Penny. I was never angry with you. I just felt sorry for you for all that happened to you. I was hurting because I lost, Pyrrha. And, you were hurting because she accidently killed you. She hurt us in ways we didn't expect, but neither of what happened to us was her fault. Cinder killed, Pyrrha, and she tricked her into killing you. It's, Cinder's fault, Penny. There is no one to blame, but her. Okay?
Penny was shaking as she brought her hands to her face, whipping away the tears in her eyes.
Penny: T-Thank you, Jaune.
Jaune: You're welcome, Penny. But, I just have one question for you.
Penny: W-What... (Sniff...) What is it, Jaune?
Jaune: Do you hate me, Penny?
Penny looked at, Jaune tears in the corner of her eyes as she smiled at him.
Penny: No, I don't hate you, Jaune.
Jaune smiled at her in turn as he took his hand off her head.
Jaune: You didn't hiccup.
Penny: I didn't.
Jaune: Well, I best get going, and see whatever it is, Clover wants from me. I'll see you later, Penny.
Penny: Wait!
Jaune: Hmm?
Penny: Can I... Can I come with you, Jaune?
Jaune smiled as he beckoned her with his hand to follow him.
Jaune: Come on, Penny let's get going.
Penny: Yes. Lets!
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alchemistc · 8 hours ago
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Gonna be pissed as hell if Tim throws out a plotline to replace it with a three episode arc about LA on fire (what will Brad do when his house burns down?), which makes me a hypocrite and a half because here's some ripped-from-the-headlines bullshit.
Tommy's duffle lands on the bottom stair with a thump.
He glances around the space like he's seeing it for the first time - or maybe like he's just taking in the gravity of the situation. There's a quirk of his lip, an ironic shake of his head, and Buck can't quite stop himself from imagining the thought running through his mind. Despite his intentions, he'd landed here anyway.
They're both bone tired. Exhaustion seeping into their marrow, the kind of tired Buck hasn't felt like this since Texas, maybe. He wants a shower and about 48 hours of sleep.
"I'll take the couch," Tommy says, voice raspy, eyes refusing to draw towards Buck.
And the thing is.
The thing is Tommy definitely had other places to go. Other friends who would have put him up as long as he needed, people he trusted, people who cared about him. But it was Buck he'd found as things wound down, the both of them covered in soot and ash, Tommy dropping to sit beside him on the curb as they waited for relief teams to finish up at the command tent.
They'd stared at the burnt out husk of Tommy's home just long enough for the tiredness to really settle in.
"You're not taking the couch," Buck says, and flips the light switch in the downstairs bathroom. Tommy's shower gel is still under the sink, his fancy curl conditioner down to the last few dollops because he'd spent enough nights here to go through most of a bottle. They've already showered at their respective stations, but Buck knows from experience how much Tommy hates the Harbor showers ("You'd think a fire station would have better water pressure, but I'm telling you, Evan, it's about as strong as an eighty-year-old's dribbling piss.") and Buck knows he still feels like he's caked in days of grime.
"Evan," Tommy starts, and Buck can't read into that, refuses despite the way it knocks around in his chest.
"You need the rest just as much as I do," Buck argues, and Tommy's shoulders just... slump. He sighs. Nods his head. Shifts on his feet and accidentally catches Buck's eye.
The contact holds just long enough for Buck to see the tears swimming in Tommy's eyes, and he can't imagine -
It strikes Buck for maybe the first time how dumb he'd been to ask Tommy to move in here. Tommy had a life, a home, a place he'd spent a decade making his own.
He'd made a joke once about a firefighter living so close to the hills, the first time he'd had Buck over, that ironic lilt to his voice while he talked about replacing all the east facing windows the first time he experienced the Santa Ana's after moving in, and Buck had spent a good ten minutes watching the light fade from his backyard, dusk casting the hydrangea bushes in a rose-gold hue.
"If I hug you are you gonna make a break for it?" Buck asks, regretting the spiteful tone when Tommy curls further in on himself, but he ducks his head even as he's shaking it, and Buck doesn't fight the urge any longer, three long strides before Tommy's curling fists around Buck's waist and pressing his nose into the skin of Buck's neck.
("It's just stuff," he'd said, knee knocking against Buck's where they huddled together on the curb across the street, Tommy uncharacteristically fidgety as they both stared straight ahead.
"Come stay with me," Buck had responded, and felt Tommy tense so quickly he'd sort of expected him to bolt to his feet and leave.
Instead, the stillness eased out of Tommy's body all at once on an exhale, and he'd nodded out of the corner of Buck's eye. "Okay."
He hadn't quite been able to stop himself from reaching out to squeeze Tommy's knee. "Okay.")
Tommy's never been one to take more than his fair share. He breaks the hug before Buck can really get into it, sniffs once like Buck didn't notice the wetness against his neck, shifts backwards and sideways. He stops halfway through the doorframe when he catches sight of the canvas bag on the counter.
Buck just hopes Maddie actually bought the specific list Buck had sent her three hours ago. Tommy's particular about his stuff, and he'd pressed the point with his sister despite the eyebrow raise he could see in every text back she sent him. He can see Tommy doing the math - only so many people with a key to the loft, only so many people who weren't there in Tommy's neighborhood for a stretch of exhausting hours that hadn't amounted to much other than saving that purple house down on the end of the street that Tommy was always bemoaning for having a better garden than him.
"Tell Maddie thank you," Tommy says, still with that rasp to his voice that under any other circumstance would have Buck vibrating in place. When he digs through it, Buck catalogues his findings - that weird organic toothpaste Tommy swore by, the cheap electric toothbrush he refused to switch out for the better one Buck had a subscription to; a pack of briefs and socks in Tommy's preferred brand.
It's not the first time Buck has wished there wasn't a canyon between them, but he strikes the urge to quip, to smile, to reach out and try to comfort him.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he digs it free, glances at the readout and immediately feels the ire rise in his throat again. It's from Eddie, a private response to the group message he'd sent out letting everyone know Tommy had a place to stay.
Is that a good idea?
And Buck gets the point. Understands that Eddie has his best interests in mind, but he's not here, hasn't been here, hadn't been there when they rolled down the street to find three houses already fighting the blaze.
Buck can't hold in the annoyed snort, and when he glances up it's to find Tommy's eyes on him.
"I'm gonna go shower," Buck tells him, and manages three whole steps before Tommy's hand curls around his wrist.
He doesn't seem to have the words to ask, but Buck reaches back to strip his shirt over his head anyway and shuffles them both towards the shower.
It's the least sexy thing they've ever done together, if he's being honest. Buck hasn't felt this tired in years, hasn't felt this grim in years, barely has the energy to do more than scrub at Tommy's back while he rinses his hair. Perfunctory, is a term for it, except for the way Tommy leans into the press of his fingers when he suds up Tommy's hair, except for the way Buck drops his forehead to Tommy's chest while Tommy aims the showerhead at Buck's back.
This is the kind of stupid shit Buck had meant, all those months ago, even if he'd done an extremely shitty job of expressing it. This is the kind of shit he'd pictured while Josh waxed poetic about some television show and wondered if Buck saw a future with Tommy.
By the time they're rinsed off and toweled dry Buck can barely stand, but as Tommy's footfalls echo just behind his up the stairs Buck has just enough sense left to roll open the drawer he'd never cleared out, toss Tommy a pair of clean briefs and one of his threadbare LAFD shirts.
Tommy stares at the drawer long enough for Buck to pull on his own clothes. He blinks himself out of it only when Buck stubs his toe wrestling the body pillow Tommy always pretended he wasn't going to end up curled around out from under the bed.
The drawer closes with an echoing 'snick'. Tommy tosses his own towel in the hamper and makes quick work of dressing.
His hair is gonna be a nightmare in the morning. They're both gonna be absolute messes. Buck's pretty sure the only food in this place is raw flour and approximately seventy-five chocolate croissants - he's pretty sure he used up the last of his eggs trying to perfect his meringue technique.
There's a stiff moment after they slide into bed where they both just lay on their backs and stare at the ceiling, oozing into Buck's mattress. Tommy shifts first, and Buck's sure it'll be away - no matter how often they fell asleep tangled together Tommy always ended up hugging the edge of the bed, and it's not like -
"Is this okay?" Tommy asks, even as he's shifting a leg over Buck, hands finding purchase in the cotton of Buck's sleep shirt.
It's like he's been dosed, for the way Tommy's body sliding into place next to his steals all the energy he has left in him. He blinks once, twice, manages to get a hand in Tommy's damp curls in response. The rest of it can wait for tomorrow.
"Evan?" He's sinking into it too, Buck can tell - the weight of his arm and leg pressing Buck further into the mattress, the drawl of Buck's name drifting instead of sharp.
Buck hums. Presses lips into whatever skin he can find without opening his eyes - a temple, or a cheekbone maybe. "Go to sleep, Tommy," he manages, but if Tommy responds he doesn't hear it.
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avelera · 2 days ago
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(Arcane Meta) Zaun Died with Silco
I want to open this by saying I understand people who are upset that there isn't more Piltover/Zaun conflict and resolution in S2 of Arcane. However, I'm going to argue here that the reason it's not in S2 after 2.03 is because the conflict is over. Piltover won. There is no more Zaun anymore as a potential political player and, ultimately, this comes back to haunt Piltover in their hour of need.
Overall, while I am invested in the Piltover/Zaun conflict, especially in S1, I'm less focused on Caitlyn and Vi's story which is our main lens for the conflict, or rather the end of the conflict, in S2. Still, I hope to offer my more Arcane worldbuilding-focused perspective. And just to get it out of the way, here are a few things I had trouble with:
I too was puzzled that anyone from the Undercity would join Piltover in the defense of the city.
I also thought it was strange to have Jayce focus on the threat that Viktor posed with his robots while soliciting help from the undercity, instead of on Ambessa, the more clear and understandable threat that would have made a better rallying point and allowed for a final discussion about the Noxian occupation of the undercity and how Noxus turning on Piltover was just them reaping what they sowed.
I was certainly taken aback when everyone was given Enforcer uniforms for the final fight.
That said, I believe there are answers to all three of these. From there, I want to dive into what exactly happened in S2 with Piltover vs. Zaun, to my eyes. Short version: there is no more "Zaun" as a potential nation or political player by 2.03 when the Chem Barons are taken out by Cait's forces, but it really died before that with Silco, who was already in a precarious negotiating situation himself and he knew it.
Very few people from the Undercity joined Piltover's defense of the city. Maybe a half dozen. I felt that was our moment of "you reap what you sow" for Piltover. A few passionate idealists who could see the bigger picture that saving Piltover does mean saving the undercity joined, but there were no hordes of volunteers. Piltover had lost the right to them and was substantially weakened for it.
Jayce choosing to focus on Viktor as the threat makes sense for him, but it was a poor political move and probably lost him volunteers he would have otherwise gained. The robot army threat is too esoteric and fantastical. "The Noxians turned on us and plan to conquer the city," is a threat that would have been better for rallying the troops, Jayce is just too single-minded to think of it. He's a bad politician.
The Enforcer uniforms are an odd sour note, but they do make sense as protective gear. Piltover doesn't have an army. There are no uniforms to give people. All they have is Enforcer uniforms. It is an odd note symbolically, but practically speaking it shows how little time Piltover had to prepare. Piltover is a civilian city going up against a military force like Noxus. They are woefully underprepared and really only have their status as defender in urban fighting to give them a prayer of even stalling the Noxian forces. Ironically, Piltover's only hope against Noxus mirrors Zaun's only hope against Piltover if they had gone to war: the difficult nature of urban fighting against an entrenched, motivated opponent on their home turf.
Now, to get into, "What happened to the overall Piltover vs. Zaun fight?" I get why people think it's lacking in S2, and I get why people find it horrifying that there is no independent Zaun at the end, all we've got is Sevika with one seat on the Council, as far as we can tell but I would point out:
Zaun is dead at this point. It's been dead since 2.03. Arguably, it really died with Silco.
As Jinx said, she didn't just destroy her own family, she cursed an entire society when she launched that rocket into the Council Chamber.
Here's the thing, Jayce was actually right when he said Zaun wouldn't stand a chance in an outright war with Piltover.
Yes, Zaun has a lot of brawlers. They have Shimmer and the Shimmer berserkers.
But Zaun doesn't have any sort of organized fighting force beyond the guards of individual Chem Barons and their factories.
What Zaun has is the fissures. It has ugly, difficult urban fighting in dangerous spaces. But as a counter to that, we have the fact that their ventilation is controlled from Piltover. In a true all-out war, Piltover could in theory just flush out the entire undercity using the Gray. Having your infrastructure entirely dependent on an enemy oppressor is what I would call a "fatal flaw" in any defensive military strategy, particularly when what they can cut off is the air you breathe. That's easily game over right there unless Silco has a way to circumvent that.
In a guerilla war, Zaun could probably hold out for a long, grinding, ugly civil war made up of mostly guerrilla attacks, in which a great number of innocent civilians will die, even in an all-out conflict with Piltover. But it would suffer catastrophic losses and probably still lose in the end.
Now, Jayce is I think somewhat naive in his claim Zaun doesn't stand a chance. Maybe Zaun wouldn't stand a chance in the long run, but they'd make Piltover pay for every inch with blood. They'd grind Piltover down into a shadow of its former self, force them to sacrifice all of their principles. To some extent, I think Jayce gets that, he gets that he doesn't want more kids to die, but I think even he underestimates just how ugly that war would be and how long it would go and how unrecognizable his Piltover would be by then.
The moment that gives Silco pause in Jayce's assessment of how easily Zaun would be crushed isn't the fighting. Silco is pretty confident that they could make Piltover pay and he's arguably looking forward to the chance on some level.
What gives him pause is when Jayce says the Council doesn't care.
To some extent, Silco like any revolutionary against an oppressive "civilized" society (heavy, heavy emphasis on the air quotes there) is that a certain point, Piltover is so soft-hearted they will get tired of the bloodshed.
What Jayce just told Silco is that the Council is more barbaric than even Silco maybe appreciated, for all their vaunted principles. There isn't necessarily a limit to how many Zaunite children will die before Piltover decides to cease hostilities. Knowing what Silco knows of Piltover's brutality, I think that is a sobering moment for Silco. That's when he decides this really is the best time to negotiate.
(Aside, this is by the way where Vi is wrong about Silco, driven by her emotions. Silco is willing to set aside the feud to get his nation of Zaun, he can be negotiated with. He's just not willing to give up his daughter (something Vi can't possibly understand at this point).)
Here's why it's the best time for Silco to negotiate and it ties into everything else:
Without Shimmer, which has been severely hampered by the raid on the factory, Zaun doesn't have anything to counter Hextech.
Jinx's wild attacks against Piltover has helped put the pressure on them that Silco capitalizes on. But it is a paper-thin threat. She is a lone albeit devastating terrorist. She makes Zaun appear more dangerous than it is but that can't last forever. Silco has leveraged her attacks into a pressure campaign against Piltover, but a serious response from Piltover (as seen in 2.03 with the strike team corners and very nearly captures her) could reveal just how fragile that threat is.
Basically, Zaun has some champions, arguably a league of legends lol, but it doesn't have an army. It doesn't even have Enforcers of its own. It doesn't have a concerted force of any kind.
The money is running out. As "Sucker" shows us in 2.02, each Chem Baron that gets taken out means less money on the table, and we're down 2 by the beginning of S2 with Silco and Finn, who arguably both fell to internal fighting.
As the Chem Barons say in 2.02, even if they got total unity in Zaun, they're outnumbered.
However, they don't have total unity in Zaun. They can't even get the Chem Barons to agree on what to do on one topic, with Jinx.
Silco basically has to accept the deal with Jayce when he does, while Zaun appears to be at its strongest. Because if he had waited any longer, the fact that they don't have the strength or money to back it up would have become apparent.
Furthermore, once Jayce resigns from the Council, which he was planning to do anyway regardless of Jinx's attack, would mean Zaun would lose its one champion with the political capital to give them independence. The window for Zaun independence is actually extremely narrow.
With Silco's death and Jinx's attack on the Council, then the subsequent eradication of the other Chem Barons, their resources, their money, including Shimmer which was the only thing Zaun really had to match them against Hextech in that arms race, there really isn't a Zaun anymore.
There's no one to negotiate with. No one to hand power to. No force that can govern itself. Zaun is completely fractured with the eradication of the Chem Barons. By taking them out, Cait removed the need for Piltover to negotiate with Zaun. And the reason Piltover chose not to was because of Jinx's rocket and then the attack on the memorial, which was orchestrated by Ambessa.
This is all according to Ambessa's design, by the way. She divides Piltover/Zaun against themselves by capitalizing on Jinx's attack. She leaves both severely weakened to make it easier for her to take over, and Piltover walks right into the trap. They would have fallen to Noxus if not for Mel's love of the city, even if you remove Viktor and Jayce's plotline entirely.
TL;DR Zaun is gone, guys. It's a distant dream. Sevika is the only person with an interest in making it happen anymore and she can't even get the Jinxers to listen to her. All the factions are easily arrested at the rally. Piltover has no reason to negotiate with any of these people. As the lone torchbearer for that cause, it makes sense for Sevika to be on the Council but beyond her, there is literally no one else to give a voice to (since Ekko doesn't appear to have an interest).
At least, until the Noxians turn on them, and then there's an interest in Piltover and the undercity joining forces, but as I referenced at the beginning of this, Piltover has now lost the right to the undercity's help AND lacks the undercity's resources too. Now Noxus has Shimmer instead of Piltover or Zaun, in addition to their sophisticated and expertly trained military force. As Jayce said, they were meant to lose this fight. Arguably, they never had a chance of winning if not for Mel claiming the loyalty of the Noxians in the wake of her mother's death and everything Jayce did to stop Viktor and the Hexcore.
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imjustdreamingig · 3 days ago
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Isn't that sweet, I guess so
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Part 1, Part 2
pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
summary: The secret's out, Steve's proud of himself, and you can't seem to keep your mouth shut
A/N: chat there is no way I put out 2 fic in the past week, this has never happened to me before! yay everyone cheer. again, i have no idea where this story is going how far im gonna go, i def want to try writing other stuff and idk if this is the best place to put and end to whatever this series is but again, we shall see i guess. thank you all so much on the love on my last two works you have no idea what that means to me! please please PLEASE send me asks or comment what you'd like me to write next or if you want a pt4 i need help people
warnings: sfw, swearing, fluff, idiots who like each other
Facing your fears is tough. No matter what it is, no one would actually choose putting themselves through a situation in which they know would cause them extreme distress. For some that may be going on a rollercoaster, interacting with a clown, going into a dark forrest alone, it could even be making a phone call by yourself to schedule a doctor's appointment (which is a valid fear to have, thank you very much.)
And here you were, facing your fears: being sat in your living room with Steve Harrington 3 feet away from you for an extended period of time. It's only been about 15 minutes, where no talking has happened since minute two.
You hope you can get to 30 minutes without fainting.
As you attempted to focus on the book in front of you, Jane Austen's words, who usually kept your focused for hours on end, were not being absorbed by you in the slightest. How could they, when Steve fucking Harrington was in your house.
Steve is the type of guy who Jane Austen would write about, you thought, eyes flickering towards him as he hunched over his book, face crinkled in concentration, trying to understand said author's musings.
The swoop of his hair, the two moles near his neck, his deep, beautiful, chocolate eyes, his gorgeous smile, and my god those arms? Yep, Jane would be absolutely obsessed with him.
"God, why did I agree to do this book?" You are snapped out of your daze at Steve's words. "What do you mean?", you replied. He gave you a look that can only be described as "seriously?"
"I mean, that I can barley understand what any of these characters are saying half the time, and honestly, it's a bit boring. I thought you would have better book recommendations," he said, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face.
A scoff left your mouth before you could stop it. "Excuse me, are you actually hating on Pride and Prejudice, the best romance story of all time, the romance story, period." You leaned over and snatched his book. "I mean, come on! You are literally only 6 pages in, you can't just judge it that quickly, you haven't even gotten to the good parts yet!", you exclaim.
Steve watched you with an amused look on his face, unbeknownst to you, who kept rambling on, trying to convince Steve this book was worth continuing.
"— and Elizabeth, she is just funny, like actually hilarious. There is one part where she basically tells someone that I'd rather not be wasting my air talking to someone like you, like please, how did she even come up with that? Also, I'm just obsessed with this proper English style of speaking, or writing I guess, because they're basically talking shit but covering it up with fancy words! And when—"
"You talk a lot, don't you?"
You look up from the book and towards Steve, eyes widening slightly, realizing you had indeed been talking too much.
"One of my greatest faults, some may say, and by faults I mean my mom, but she only tells me this when we're arguing, so..." You glance away from Steve's face for a little reprieve. God, he's so hot.
"Well, like a good partner," you continue. "I'm trying to help you get some of this project done, and maybe if Robin were here, she could've helped," you defended yourself, crossing your arms, "which I'm still confused about, by the way. You said something about her telling you earlier how I invited you guys and some other people to work on the project together, but then she doesn't show?"
Steve leans back in his chair, also crossing his arms. You glance down for a quick second and send a quick thank you to anyone who's that Steve is wearing a tight shirt that beautifully enunciates his biceps. Or maybe you should be mad at them, you don't know yet.
"Maybe it's the fact that she noticed, like I did, that it's been a month since this project was assigned and we haven't even started," Steve countered, "which is unlike you, you usually want to get stuff done ASAP."
You look at him in confusion. "How the fuck do you know that?"
Steve smirks, "I also happen to know that you don't have a sister, thanks to that lovely dinner with your mom." You shake your head in disbelief, mentally making a note to yell at your mom later.
"Isn't that what you said one of the many times I asked you to work on the project?" Steve looked so amused with himself, all cocky and proud that he had uncovered your lie. Your brain tried desperately to come up with a realistic enough explanation, but nothing was coming up.
You throw your hands up in defeat. "Ok, fine! I lied! Is it just so hard for you to believe that maybe, just maybe, not everyone in that high school wants to spend time with you outside of it?" Oh my God, why the fuck would you say that, you screamed internally.
Steve stared at you for a second before letting out a chuckle. " You know, I did think of that actually, but only for a bit." He reaches out for the book and grabs it from your grasp, flipping to a random page.
"You can only run away from a guy so many times before he catches a hint," he peers over at you, " and I mean literally, you're a fast runner, did you ever do track?"
"Yeah, in middle school," you answer quickly. Steve lets out a hum of agreement before placing his attention back on the book. You open your mouth, about to quip about being careful to not rip the pages when he speaks again. "I know I'm dumb, but I'm not an idiot, ya know?"
Your gaze snaps to his face. "Steve, I don't think you're dumb." He doesn't look too convinced. "Eh, I think you do. But you're interesting, you took me a lot longer to figure out than the others since girls just typically throw themselves at me."
You make a face of disgust, "Ok, you sound like a total prick, you know."
"Yep, heard it after I said it, but that's not the point here." He point his finger at you, "You have a crush on me."
You splutter out a sound of indignation. "Hello, what?" In your head, fire alarms are sounding. It's a code red, all hell is breaking loose. "Pfft, no I absolutely do not."
Steve raises his eyebrows. "Then how else do you explain the running away when you see me anywhere at school? You always have an insane excuse why we're not able to meet up to start the project, which some are hilarious," he admits, "but you've got me complaining about not doing homework, look what you've done to me!"
At this point you've gone silent, mouth agape with an excuse stuck in your throat refusing to come out. Steve's expression has changed, his eyes bore into yours with earnest, almost as if he's anticipating a certain answer, hoping for it. "So?"
You muster all the courage you have left and just when you're about to respond, Steve interrupts you again for like, the 15th time.
"Anyways, I've to get going, have some things to do and whatever." He gets up, shrugs on his jacket and then places his books in his backpack. You get up too, having absolutely no clue how to tell him not to go, that you want him to stay. "Steve, what do you mean?"
He glances over at you, "Nothing, I just have to go. I'm a busy guy." He starts making his way to your front door, leaving you behind in the kitchen, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. First, he accuses you of having a crush on him, which you do, and then he just thinks he can leave?
Oh, absolutely not.
With a new wave of determination, you catch up to Steve just as he's finishing putting on his shoes. "Say thanks to your mom for me for dinner, it was great," he says as he grabs the door handle. You don't let him continue with whatever stupid thing he was going to say next.
"Listen Harrington, I don't know what the fuck just happened back there, but the fact you think can just, leave after dropping a bomb like that is ridiculous," you say, glaring at him in annoyance, and Steve's just staring back at you with that stupid, stupid, smirk that has not left his face since the moment he stepped foot in here.
"So what if I did like you, huh? What if I did have a crush on you? Because I do, but that, quite frankly, is none of your business, none of your concern, actually, so... yeah." Steve is looking at you and you're looking at him, a little out of breath after your declaration. You don't have the energy right now to fully process what you just said.
All of a sudden, Steve seems to break character, the smugness gone, replaced with subtle endearment. He leans down and presses a swift kiss on your cheek before whispering, "Well, it's a good thing I like you too." He straightness back up and says, "I told you I knew you were different, you're a mystery. You're lucky running away seemed to work on me, by the way. I don't think it would for everyone else," he says while you stare at him in shock. You've been rendered silent once again, with nothing but the thought that Steve likes you back, repeating over and over again.
You clear your throat before speaking, "Well! Um, yay?" You truly have no idea what to do right now. Steve chuckles at your reaction, like he can't believe his words have caused you of all people, who continuously talk and talk and talk, to not have anything profound to say for once. He's kind of into it.
Steve grabs your hand and encases it with the other. "Come over to my house tomorrow after school, I'll drive you. We can work on the project and you know, talk, if you want." You nod fervently, "Yeah, yeah ok."
He smiles and drops your hand. "I really do have to go though, I wasn't making that up," he remarks as he opens the front door. "Oh, sure, that's fine," you reply. You hold open the door for him and watch as he descends the steps and makes his way towards his car. You watch him, holding onto the door for dear life.
As Steve gets into the car, he looks over at you and waves, "I'll see you tomorrow!" You wave back and yell back, "Yeah, tomorrow!" You don't go back inside until the car is out of sight. As you shut the door, you press your back against it, trying to wrap your head around what exactly happened in the last few hours.
Holy shit, you though, Steve Harrington likes me. Steve fucking Harrington. You let out an involuntarily squeal of excitement and immediately regret doing it as your mother calls down from upstairs. "Mija, are you ok? What happened?" Hearing her voice reminds you of her involvement over the events that transpired tonight.
Putting your happiness on hold for a moment, you start to storm up the stairs. "Mom!", you yelled, "How could you embarrass me like that, asking him to stay over for dinner, you know how I feel about him, I just about fainted 5 times throughout the night, how does that make you feel!? You almost killed me an—"
You would thank your mom later, because ultimately she helped, but for now, you'll stick to this.
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thanosscross · 2 days ago
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Baby - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader Part 3 Smut
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Summary: After months of being together, everytime you sleep together it feels just like the first time still, but Seung Hyun throws a twist in this time
Warnings: Smut, lots of smut
Seven and a half months, that's how long it had been since Seong Hyun asked you to be his girlfriend, and while you were both reserved in public, you didn't hold back in the bedroom, as more time passed though, the more you learned about your lover, that in reality, the big ego, cocky, outgoing Seung Hyun was just for show, in reality, your boyfriend was basically a big teddy bear, one of the first males you met that was actually in touch with his feelings and fears, and wasn't afraid to admit it. He was your everything at the moment, you both came dependent on each other while still keeping to your independent natures, you could go days without seeing each other, but neither of you would really sleep well or truly relax until you were together again.
"Seung hyun" You whined, desperately trying to wake him up, it was a Saturday, meaning you both had the day free of any responsibilities, and while you had planned a day with your boyfriend, it seemed he had other plans of sleeping all morning. You couldn't lie though, he looked adorable laying curled up under his fluffy comforter, not to mention relaxed and peaceful, sighing you just climbed out of bed in defeat "Fine, I'll be back at noon" You threatened kissing his forehead gently, he just turned away tiredly, pulling the stuffed animal he had used as a pillow with him. You rolled your eyes giggling to yourself as you made your way out of the room looking around for anybody who was awake. "Bo-mi!" You heard the boys shouting in chorus, you just raised your eyebrows at them in confusion "Oh! y/n! We thought you were Seung hyun" Dae-Sung apologized sheepishly, blushing softly "You're fine, you guys are pretty too" You offered with a smile before making your way to the kitchen to get your morning (coffee or tea, just your choice of morning drink). Walking back with the mug, you sat next to Ji-yong glancing at the game they were playing on the tv.
You ended up playing with them for a good two hours before you all just ended up talking, it started out sweet, them complimenting you on how much you've changed Seung Hyun to where he's been a little more outgoing with things, you complimenting them on how hard they've been working lately, until they started interrogating you. "We never you see you anymore!" Ji-yong groaned "Seung Hyun stole you!" Dae-sung added, you laughed loudly hiding your face in your blanket you had wrapped around your body "He's my boyfriend!" You giggled loudly before looking towards him again "We miss you!" Tae-yung agreed crossing his arms "I miss you guys! But I practically live here! I'm right down the hall" You giggled, you could feel your face heating up as they continued "Don't think we can't hear what's happening in there! Oooo Seung hyun!" Ji-Yong teased mocking your words from the other night, whenever you thought you both were alone.
You squealed hiding your face again "Leave me alone! We're literally together! and adults!" You argued giggling loudly before looking to them "You all wouldn't understand, you're children" You giggled, they gasped at your comment before jumping and screaming out whenever they heard your boyfriend cough from the hallway "If I remember right it was, yesss, seung hyun" He stated making his way tiredly to you "You said you'd be back at noon" He frowned, you smiled at him, trying to hide the fact you were extremely flustered by the others knowledge of what exactly you sound like during sex. "Sorry, the boys are upset they don't see me as much" You giggled, Seung Hyun taking his rightful spot next to you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you tightly "They live with you?" He questioned before catching on laughing "Oh my!...you know..you guys are more than welcome to invite her to game or hangout, you just don't" He chuckled, you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder, only now realizing he had no shirt on, Not wanting to put him on the spot about his new found confidence you just smiled even wider hugging him "Not whenever you steal her!" Dae-sung whined, Seung Hyun just smirked "What you mean like this?" He asked before scooping you up with ease rushing to your bedroom, you screamed holding onto him tightly, not liking the fact he was running around corners with you in his arms.
As you got back into your room he smirked at you "Oh god, what do you want, my love?" You asked resting your hands on the base of his neck, admiring his eyes as he slowly lowered you down to your feet "You look really good in my clothes" He whispered stepping closer to you "You look really good with no shirt" You complimented, your words brought a bright pink hue to his cheeks as he blushed "You had my shirt" He protested shyly, you just shook your head giggling kissing him softly, Seung Hyun had other thoughts, taking the back of your neck in his hand as he pressed his lips against yours needier and rougher than you did. You just placed your hands in his hair, his other arm going around your waist to pull you closer to him if possible. "What has gotten into you?" You teased as he pushed you down onto the bed "You have changed me" He growled against your neck, you tilted your head to the side allowing him more access as he continued "I feel..more myself with you, you let me live my life while still being a big part of it, you know just what to say, you're perfect" He whispered, you just now realizing his lips were pressed against your jaw "You're so sweet, but I didn't change anything, you did that, Seung Hyun" You smiled, moaning softly whenever he started to leave a trail of hickeys across your neck "See? Just what to say" He smirked against your skin, before pulling away to make eye contact with you "I love you" He said, causing you to stare at him in shock, you watched the emotions run over his face "I love you too" You finally found yourself saying looking into his dark eyes, his smirk returned before you pressed your lips to his.
Gasping as Seung Hyun lined himself up with your entrance, you glanced up to look at him, his eyes were trained between the two of you, more concerned about getting everything right so he didn't hurt you. You slowly raised a hand to his cheek, tilting his head slightly to look at you "You're okay" You smiled, nodding a bit before leaning up kissing him deeply, Seung Hyun took that as his sign to ahead, pushing his dick fully in, bottoming out before he brought his hands to your face, cupping his cheeks as he kissed you deeply.
It didn't matter how many times you guys fucked each other, it would always take you both by surprise, Seung Hyun groaned quietly panting against your lips as he slowly started thrust his hips, You weren't doing much better to compose yourself, running your nails down his back and chest, trying your best to stifle your moans so your eavesdropping roommates wouldn't hear. "gongjunim, baby, easy" He groaned against your lips, it wasn't that it hurt him, he just didn't want to cum this early, not only would it be embarrassing, but he also wanted to savor the feeling before he had a whole new week of writing and recording. You turned your hands from his back to his hands, which he quickly used the advantage to pin them above your head, interlacing your fingers together as the speed of his hips thrusting increased, you whimpered loudly wrapping your legs around his hips, his hand finding it's way to your clit, rubbing a mixture of circles and figure eights against it, pulling away from your lips, he leaned back, getting a full view of you underneath him.
Feeling conscious of everything on your body settled over you as you noticed Seung Hyun's staring, you bit your lip, looking away from his gaze "Baby..look at me" He whispered, resting his free hand on your stomach as his thrusts slowed, whimpering as his dick basically slammed in and out of you. Slowly you looked over to meet his gaze "You're breathtaking my love, just like the most beautiful waterfalls, the most expelling art piece, just like the beauty of true unfiltered pure art, and it's all mine" He whispered, you wanted to giggle, even as he basically taking away your ability to properly walk for the next day, he still finds a way to be as charming as possible. "I love you Seung Hyun" You giggled, pulling him closer to press your lips against his hungrily, between his fingers on your clit and him inside of you, you were desperate to cum, but his speed was like a constantly tease, bringing you to the edge before ripping it away. "Fucking Please Seung Hyun" You moaned, growing frustrated with his teasing antics you threw your head back "Huh?" He teased, smirking, you rolled your eyes, of course, you had done it once before, as a joke, and of course he wanted you to do it again. "I'm not doing that" You giggled "Please just actually fuck me, baby" You asked, purposely pitching your voice lower with a slight seductive tone, Seung Hyun squeezed your hip tightly, not liking the reaction his body had to your voice. He just persisted, only now his lips were attached to your nipple, swirling his tongue to match the movements of his fingers on your clit, you whined loudly, cheeks growing hot with a blush, of course he had to think one of your cringiest jokes was hot.
"Please fuck me, Top, I swear I know all the words to your songs, you're so fucking hot- God damnit please!" You whined, your tone going from annoyed to just frustrated, he just seemed to find enjoyment in your neediness and frustration. "I guess" He smirked against your skin, pulling his lips off with a pop, replacing them with his hand that wasn't between your legs. "Just remember, whenever your legs hurt later, you wanted it this badly" He teased before moving his hips at a pace you swear you had never felt before, you couldn't stop the moan that was pulled from your lips as you arched your back, his fingers increasing their speed on your clit as well. You ran your hands down his back, feeling it arch under your touch, you whimpered as he groaned against your collarbone, trying to stay mindful of the headboard not smacking against the wall.
As you got closer to your orgasm you felt Seung Hyun move your legs slightly higher on his waist, his hand going right back to your nipples after words "I'm not cumming until you do, Gongjunim" He grunted, you just squeezed his shoulders tightly in reply, knowing if he kept up with the abuse on your clit you'd definitely fall apart soon. Before Seung Hyun could say anything else you pulled his lips to yours, desperate to try and muffle your moans any ways you could, your legs squeezing tightly around his waist as your pussy squeezing his cock even tighter if possible. Seung Hyun moaned himself for the first time with you, tilting his head down as he dropped to his elbow propping him up "That's it baby, use me for anything you need" He whispered leaving a final hickey right above your left nipple, you whimpered loudly as you came around him, Seung Hyun waited a moment to catch his breath before grabbing your hips, groaning, still in love with the fact your hips fit perfectly in his hands. You bit your lip looking up at him, this time as he looked between the two of you, he had a different look in his eyes, he bit his lip as he started his pace again, this time alot more sloppy, he felt like he was about to explode, somehow harder than he had been in months, and the way you felt around him wasn't helping the situation, the closer he got to cumming, the worse it got. Noticing his pace starting to falter, you placed a hand on his chest pushing slightly to roll the both of you, positioning yourself to straddle him, you started to roll your hips against his. His grip on your hips tightened as his head fell back "Fuck, please don't stop, baby" He begged, his tone pitched slightly higher "Why would I stop, my love? You look fucking amazing like this" You asked pressing soft butterfly kisses down his jawline and neck, leaving hickeys as soon as you got to his collarbone, knowing that they needed to be hidden in order for him not to be in trouble.
Seung Hyun never realized how hot it'd be to have you on top, especially while having you try to boost his confidence, but here you were and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his cock even harder if possible. "Fuck! Fuck! Baby I'm so close" He groaned sitting up to bring your lips to his for a very sloppy kiss, a mixture of tongue and teeth connecting as you copied your previous movement, squealing as he dug his nails into your hips, holding them where they were, his hips lifting up to meet yours as he started to cum, you kissed him deeper as you felt the warm liquid spill into you. After a few minutes, Seung Hyun slowly shifted to lay you onto the bed and pull out of you, much to your dismay, you let him, not without giving him one last short kiss. "I swear..everytime is like the first time" He panted as he hid his face in the curve of your neck, you trailed your nails over the back of his hairline and down his neck, feeling him slowly catch his breath, you couldn't shake the thought you had the entire time Seung Hyun said I love you. "Baby?..are you okay?" His deep voice pulled you from your thoughts "I'm amazing..trust me..but..did you mean what you said?.." You asked nervously, now twisting his messy hair in-between your fingers "That I love you?" He asked, almost like he could read your mind, you just hummed in agreement "Of course I meant it, I wouldn't ever say something to you that I don't mean" He said, leaning away to be able to look you in the eyes "I love you, Y/n, You make me feel like a good..happy person" He smiled softly, pressing a gently kiss to your forehead "I love you too, then" You smiled, before starting to sit up "Shower with me?" You offered, he just smirked standing up offering his hand out to you, taking a moment to admire how truly amazing he looked naked. "Oh Y/nnn.." He called out in a teasing tone "You like?" He smirked turning to face you to pull you up out of bed "I very very much like, sir" You replied, placing your hands on his chest as you walked him backwards into the bathroom.
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You like? No seriously though, I tried my best but everything today kept snapping me out of the zone, so I apologize it's not my usual smutty work
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