#The Belle and the Bane *Fic*

[zhaobear]

28 (teaser)

It takes you 28 weeks to leave Kim Gyuvin, but only 28 days to run right back.

PAIRING : kim gyuvin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, eventual angst, with a happy ending, enemies to lovers au, strangers to lovers au, rich girl au, bakery au, falling in love in france!!

WORD COUNT : 1209 (teaser), estimated to be 20k

SUMMARY : when you pack your bags and move to france on a whim, you don’t expect just how many challenges you’ll meet — whether it’s your difficulty in adjusting to the new country, the harsh truths of the fashion industry, or most infuriatingly, pastry chef kim gyuvin, whose immense talent doesn’t stop you from deeming him the bane of your existence. despite yourself, his shop soon becomes more of a home than you’d like to admit, as gyuvin’s delicious creations and honest words slowly worm their way into your heart and show you that affection is more than just a monetary transaction.

WARNINGS : profanity, might be suggestive, red hair gyuvin x blue hair mc, mc wants to go to fashion school and gyuvin owns a pâtisserie (both are 20), mc is a bad bitch but sometimes superficial/spoiled but!! has char development, gyuvin shows love by being a little shit, i apologize for the banner graphic design is not my passion

AUTHOR'S NOTE : happy gyuvin day!! i wanted to finish this whole fic for his bday but i'm not quite there yet so take this teaser <3 if anyone wants to be tagged for this lmk and i'll start a taglist! i'm super excited to finish this fic even though gyuvin already got rid of his red hair......i will pretend it's still there

"NOT TO BE RUDE OR ANYTHING, BUT COULD YOU MOVE THE CRYING SOMEWHERE ELSE? YOU'RE AFFECTING BUSINESS." 

Your mouth falls open. Out of all of the words you expected to hear from the employee with the red hair, these weren't at all what you imagined.

The sheer nerve of a stranger — you can’t help but fume. Your status has led you to experience all sorts of men,  most commonly the kind that fall to your feet at first sight, begging you for a mere minute of your time. You’ve unfortunately experienced their rotten sides too, particularly the petty insults and misogyny that come with your industry. You’ve also experienced the raging anger when they realize you take too much pride in yourself to become their dolls. 

But to be insulted so brazenly on the first meeting, given your name, your reputation — men do not dare. 

“Well, excuse me for choosing your store to have a mental breakdown under. I couldn’t exactly—”

“Excused.”

“What?” You seethe, your face growing hotter by the second. 

“You’re excused,” the boy repeats simply, before turning back to the door. “If you want to sit inside, you’re welcome. Please just don’t cry outside of my shop,” he calls over his shoulder. 

The door closes behind him before you can even say anything back. You’re frozen in place, shocked by the pure shamelessness of the boy. Surely no manager would let their employee act this way? You’ve never been much of a Karen, but you’re tempted to find out. 

Finally, you look inside the store, peering through the glass door. Despite yourself, you’re pleasantly surprised upon the realization that you’ve stopped under a pâtisserie. Although none of the French bakeries have made any lasting impact on you, the decent crowd inside the shop has to amount to something. 

A variety of pastries are neatly lined on the glass shelves, clearly crafted with great care and intricacy. Almost all of them are unfamiliar, but your mouth waters anyway. You didn’t even know it was possible to crave something you’ve never had. 

You observe a flash of red hair saunter behind a door at the back, and all your cravings disappear. That bitch. You’d rather die than sit inside the shop and let him win, but you cajole yourself with the thought of making a complaint as soon as you find the right person. 

You push the door open, greeted by the bell that chimes overhead. 

Warmth. 

That’s your first impression of the store, and it’s not just the significant temperature difference. Something about the aura of the shop itself, the quiet but contented chatter of customers and the soft music spilling through the overhead speakers — you hate to admit it but it gives you a sense of comfort you were missing in the past three days. 

You shake your head. Pull yourself together. 

You storm past the line of customers, immediately met with their indignant shouts and protests, and stop in front of the young boy manning the register. His eyes widen, flitting back and forth between you and the customer he was helping. 

“Miss, I—I’m sorry but you can’t just cut in line like that…” he trails off nervously. His expression makes you think of a nervous rabbit, cornered by prey twice his size with nowhere to go. Twitchy nose and all. It’s kind of cute, and a part of you feels bad. You know he didn’t do anything wrong, but maybe the intimidation will get him to help you faster. 

“I need to speak to your manager.”

The boy balks, clearly unsure how to respond. He covers his confusion with a small smile. 

“I’m sure whatever it is, I can assist you. Can I ask what the problem is?”

“Look, I appreciate you trying to help, but the best thing you can do for me is just get me the manager,” you huff. “Please,” you tack on awkwardly, feeling worse at the small flash of hurt in his eyes. The boy nods and leaves, disappearing behind the door at the back of the store. 

You tap your foot impatiently, ignoring the string of curses the customers in line direct at you. Already irritated with the amount of time they’re taking, you consider leaving, about to turn around until the door finally swings open. 

However, you’re not prepared for the man who emerges from the back. You gape at the sight of the red-haired boy, who raises an eyebrow at the sight of you, giving you an infuriating once-over. 

“Is something the matter?” He asks coolly, like he didn’t insult you mere minutes ago. Like you’re just a regular disruption and not — not you. The heir to one of the most widespread fashion companies in the world. The girl with everything. 

“I asked for the manager,” you hiss. But the boy’s face only brightens at the word, a casual grin spreading across his face. 

“Looks like you’ve found who you’re looking for,” he replies, raising his hands. “Manager by day, chef by night. What can I do for you?” 

Your hand clenches into a fist against your will, the need to punch the cheeky smirk off his face overpowering you. You hold yourself back, instead matching his attitude with a sickly sweet smile of your own. 

“I thought most managers were aware of basic customer service. But I suppose I expected too much from a hole-in-the-wall place like this,” you simper, watching his face turn the same shade as his hair.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” the man splutters. “I—I have five star reviews on Google!”

You try not to snicker at how quickly you’ve caught him off guard, schooling your expression into something that you hope is cool and unconcerned. “Well then, I’m sure Google would love to hear my thoughts instead. No use being here if I can just put a few dents in those five stars, right?” You shrug noncommittally and turn around. 

“Hold on,” the boy says, a hint of desperation in his voice. You face him, trying to smother the smug smile threatening to overtake your features. “Would a free pastry help?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “I don’t know. None of the pastries in Paris have been particularly outstanding to me yet.” 

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be a problem here,” he answers, smiling. The smile looks genuine enough, but you notice it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze is stuck on you — calculating, wary, like he’s still trying to make sense of you. “Yujin-ah!” He calls out without taking his eyes off you. The boy from earlier emerges behind him, refusing to look at you.

“Yeah?” He glances at the redhead with a lingering hint of that bunny-like anxiousness. 

“Get her a kouign amann on the house for me, please.” He finally breaks eye contact with you to look at the smaller boy with a gentle smile that you can tell is reserved for him. Yujin nods, hurrying to grab the pastry. 

“If it’s not to your liking, you can mention me personally in the review. The name’s Kim Gyuvin,” the redhead says, giving you a maddening wink before walking away. You splutter at him indignantly, but to deaf ears as he vanishes behind the back door.

[stevie-petey]

episode one: the vanishing of will byers

Steve nods, as if you almost getting hit by his car makes perfect sense to him. When you walk over to your bike and inspect it for any damage, he follows after you.  “So,” he whistles, trying to pretend that this is all a completely normal occurrence. “You, uh, need a ride?” Honestly you don’t know why you’re surprised he hasn’t noticed the clear signs of you crying, your swollen eyes and red nose. Not only is he a boy, but he’s also Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle he even stopped to make sure you weren’t dead.

summary: jonathan smuggles you free food in exchange for friendship, will goes missing the one time you listen to jonathan, hopper doesn't really like you, and steve harrington almost hits you with his car as you're sobbing like a damn baby (in a cool way).

rating: general, although there's plenty of cursing and slight innuendos, so fair warning.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 7k

before you swing in: hello ! this is the first chapter of my come home series, where i plan on rewriting the entirety of stranger things because i really love a good rewrite fic and this is me just indulging in my ideal fic fantasies tbh. before we start: this is a steve x reader fic, however there will be some slight feelings between the reader and jonathan, but it doesn't at all get in the way of steve and honestly just adds to the angst because i love a good tragedy. also, reader is dustin's older sister, but i tried to write her as neutral as possible in terms of physical features, so let's all just play along. that is all ! i'm very excited for this series and i hope y'all enjoy her as much as i do :)

-

November 6th, 1983

Your shift at Bookstrordinary ends at 8:30 tonight, so as soon as you’ve organized all the books within the store and cashed out the last customer, you say goodnight to your boss, Mrs. Waters, and clock out. Today had been a longer shift, and it didn’t help that you had to deal with a particularly eager bookclub mother who insisted that you had the latest copy of some obscure novel that she needed for her club. After several attempts to inform her that no, you really didn’t have some novel about a cowboy falling in love with a rodeo girl from Michigan, nor would you ever want to read that, the mother angrily walked away. 

You’re happy to finally be free from work though, excited to see Jonathan to tell him about the book club mom because you know he gets a kick out of those suburban middle class mothers that terrorize Hawkins. He works across from you, at The Hawk theater, and it’s one of your favorite things about the bookstore. Besides getting to be surrounded by books all day and reading Spider-Man, you get to be across the street from your best friend and share frequent breaks together. 

A bell signifies your arrival at the theater, alerting Jonathan to look up from the concession stand and smile at you. He looks tired, which you can understand. It’s been a particularly long school year so far with Jonathan having to work more shifts than usual to support his family. 

“Welcome to The Hawk, can I interest you in our specialty popcorn and candy corn mixture?”

You make a face, “No, thanks. Candy corn freaks me out.” 

Jonathan laughs, knowing you’d say that. It’s been a running joke between the two of you for as long as you can remember. You’re not picky with most foods, but candy corn? The bane of your existence. “Tough crowd, then.” 

You laugh as well, now standing in front of the counter, and you learn against it so that you’re in Jonathan’s space. After being friends for so long, personal space doesn’t exist between the two of you. You’re the only person that Jonathan lets get this close to him on a regular basis, which you’re secretly proud of. 

“So, you almost done so we can pick up our idiotic brothers?” Tonight, as usual, Will and Dustin are at Mike’s house playing DnD. They’d biked over as soon as school let out, while Jonathan drove you to work, so he was your ride back for the night. 

He shakes his head at you, wincing, “I picked up an extra shift tonight. Stacy called out sick, and it’s good money…”

You nod in understanding. He doesn’t have to explain himself to you, which he’s always relieved by. 

“It’s okay. Is my bike still in your trunk?” 

“Yeah, I can get it out for you since I’m kind of ditching you tonight.” 

You wave him off, already reaching across the counter to grab his keys from his coat pocket. “No need, I’ll get it out myself so you don’t get in trouble with your boss.” Jonathan’s boss is an older guy, extra scary. “I’m assuming that I’m taking Will home tonight?” 

“It’ll be late by the time you get the boys, and you’ll have Dustin. We only live a couple blocks apart, you can just bike with Will until you get to your street.”

“Are you sure? I know he’s scared of the dark.” 

“It’s fine, Y/N. You’re already doing enough being there for most of the ride; I’m sure Will can survive the last five minutes alone.” 

You give Jonathan an unsure look, but you don’t argue with him. He’s his brother, he knows Will’s capabilities, and it’s an unspoken fact that you baby Will a bit too much. He’s just so much tinier than the other boys, softer in a way that you want to protect. He’s special. 

Jonathan sneaks you a large peach lemonade and hot dog from the concession stand when you return with his keys. You’ve parked your bike up front, and you accept the food gratefully. You hadn’t had time to eat your usual dinner during your break due to the bookclub mother fiasco, so you inhale the food quickly and give his hair a ruffle. 

“You’re a lifesaver, bee.” 

Jonathan lightly hits your hand away from his hair. “Consider it your payment for dealing with Will and Dustin on your own tonight, bug.” 

Bee and bug were the names the two of you had given each other years ago. Jonathan had started it with bug, stemming from the fact that you love Spider-Man so much, and you had struggled to come up with your own nickname for him. Then it came to you: bee, or B, for Byers. It was perfect, and you’re still incredibly proud of yourself for the creativity, honestly. 

After your quick dinner, you say goodbye to your friend and head off. It’s late now, nearing 9, and you hope that Mrs. Wheeler and your own mom won’t be too upset with you for being late for pick up. You know they prefer to have the boys in bed by a decent hour, but in your defense, Jonathan did skip out on you.

You arrive at the Wheeler’s in a short amount of time and knock on the door. Your cheeks are flushed from the early November cold, and you’re regretting that you only put on a thin sweater and jeans this morning.

Mike answers the door, giving you a dirty look. “Did you have to come early?”

“I’m actually later than usual,” you sidestep him, making your way into his house; you’ve become used to Mike’s attitude. “I take it the campaign is still ongoing?”

“See, mom? Even Y/N understands how long a good campaign can go on for!” Mike waves his arms at you, as if to signify to his mother the importance of your understanding. 

Mrs. Wheeler ignores her son to greet you kindly, albeit a bit exasperated. “Hello, Y/N, please come in.” Then she turns to Mike, giving him a stern look. “Mike, why don’t you tell Y/N how you boys have been playing for ten hours? I’m sure she’ll be understanding then.” 

“You guys have been playing for ten hours?”

Mike looks down in embarrassment for a second before turning to his father for help. You laugh a bit at his enthusiasm and see a faint smile on his mom’s face as well. Quietly you excuse yourself to go downstairs to find the other boys, and Mrs. Wheeler wishes you luck. 

Everyone always acts like the boys are some giant pain; truthfully, you enjoy them. Sure, they can be a handful, but they’re just kids; it’s hard for you to ever stay mad at them. Plus they like you, so it makes dealing with them easier. 

Lucas, Dustin, and Will are running around the basement when you get down there, frantically searching for something. You hear Lucas inform Will that if Mike doesn’t see something, then it doesn’t count. The urgence in his voice amuses you; you’ll never fully wrap your head around why they take DnD so seriously, but you love that they can enjoy it with each other. 

Dustin is the first to see you. “Y/N!”

The other boy’s heads turn to you and they greet you with enthusiasm as well. Will rushes towards you for a hug, which you gladly accept. When you break apart, Lucas gives you a high five and asks about a comic you’ve put on hold for him at the store. 

“Any luck?”

“Sorry, Sinclair. It’s still sold out, but the second it’s restocked I’ll smuggle one for you.” 

“Sick!” 

Dustin walks over, now in his coat and holding a pizza box. “Want a slice?” 

You decline, informing him that Jonathan snuck some food for you. At the mention of his brother’s name, Will asks where he is. You tell him that Jonathan had to cover a shift and that you’ll be taking him most of the way home tonight. 

As you all make your way upstairs, you notice that Dustin continues up to the second floor. Lucas notices too, and the two of you share a knowing look. 

“Still have a crush on Nancy?” You ask, already knowing the answer. 

“Yup.” Lucas responds, smiling in disappointment. 

You wait for your brother outside, helping Will with his coat and listen to Mike’s rambling about the campaign. Lucas is already on his bike, ready to go. 

“There’s something wrong with your sister.” Dustin declares when he finally returns.

Mike looks at you, then at your brother, confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“She’s got a stick up her butt.” 

“Dustin!” You berate. Nancy isn’t your favorite person, but she’s always been nice to you the few times you’ve interacted. You guys used to be closer when you were younger, but high school has a way of distancing people.

“Yeah,” Lucas now speaks up. “It’s because she’s been dating that douchebag, Steve Harrington.” How the hell does Lucas even know about that? You didn’t even know about that until just now. 

“Lucas! Language!” 

“Yeah, she’s been turning into a real jerk.”

“Dustin, I swear to God-” 

The boys ignore you, which you’re honestly not surprised by. While they may like you, that doesn't mean that they listen to you. On a good day they maybe listen to you 25% of the time, but tonight was clearly not a good night. 

Mike finally cuts in, “She’s always been a real jerk.”

“Hey, she’s your sister. Give her some credit-”

Dustin is now the one who cuts you off. “Nuh-uh, only you get the sister leniency, Y/N. Nancy used to be cool, now she isn’t.” 

“Remember that time she dressed up as an elf for our Elder tree campaign?” Lucas asks, almost reminiscent. 

You shudder at the way he says it, and you shudder more when you see the dreamy look in your brother’s eyes. “Yeah, I remember…” 

“Gross,” you huff at your brother, now hopping on your own bike. 

Lucas and Dustin begin to pedal away, and you call after them to wait up. Will is still with Mike, and you promised Jonathan you’d get him home. You give the boys a bit of space, waiting a few paces ahead. Will has always been shy around Mike, something that you’ve tried not looking into too much, but to be safe you give them some privacy. 

Faintly, you hear Will say, “The Demogorgon, it got me.” 

Lights flicker a bit, but you’re too focused on the slight unease you feel by Will’s words. Before you can think too much about them, he joins you. “Race you up to Lucas and Dustin?”

“You’re on,” you tell him. 

Will beats you to the boys (which you let him do), and you’re out of breath. The four of you bike in silence for a bit until you reach Lucas’s turn into his neighborhood. 

“Good night, ladies.” He says, and you don’t need to be a psychic to know what your brother’s response is going to be.

“Kiss your mom ‘night for me.” Bless him.

You and Will giggle together, and Dustin smirks at the two of you, proud. He sits in the praise for a few moments before challenging you and Will to race home with the promise of a comic for whoever wins. 

“I call last year’s Black Cat issue of Spider-man!” You call out, already biking away from the boys. 

“We didn’t say go!”

Dustin and Will call after you as they try to catch up, and within a few seconds the three of you are speeding down the hill towards your home. You laugh gleefully, enjoying the way the wind whips through your hair and the way Dustin, though annoyed by your early start, laughs alongside you with Will. 

Somehow Will is the one who wins the race, which you’re impressed by. He may be small, but he’s surprisingly good at winning when it comes to a competition. Dustin shouts at Will that he’ll kill him, which makes you send a warning look at him. 

“I’ll take your X-Men 134!” Will retaliates, still flying through the street. 

You and Dustin are now stopped at your mailbox and you take a moment to catch your breath before shouting at Will, “Be careful, please! Stay safe!”

“I’ll be fine, I promise!” Will’s voice is distant, now a few yards away, and you stand outside for a few more seconds to watch his figure disappear into the night. Dustin has already gone inside but you wait to follow, only going inside when you can no longer see Will, hopefully home safe and sound. You feel fear creep upon you, but you chalk it up to your usual worry when it comes to the boy. 

He’ll be okay, Jonathan should be home within the hour. 

– 

The next morning you’re frantically biking to school, pissed off at Jonathan. He’s your ride every morning, or everywhere, really, and for the second time in 24 hours he’s bailed on you. Dustin left for school ages ago on his bike, so you’re thankful he doesn’t see you embarrassingly sweaty and gross as you race to school. 

It’s not that you’re pissed that Jonathan bailed again, you’re pissed because he didn’t even have the nerve to call you ahead of time to warn you. Now you have only ten minutes before the first bell rings, and your sweater clings to you uncomfortably as you sweat. 

You make it to school with a few minutes to spare, so you quickly make your way over to your locker to grab the necessary books for the day. You’re still sweaty, and you don’t want to even think about what your hair looks like right now. You look down the hall towards Jonathan’s locker, still not seeing him, and you begin to worry a bit. Maybe he overslept after last night’s shift? 

A body crashes into yours, sending your notebooks spiraling to the ground. Steve Harrington looks at you sheepishly, only saying a small “whoops!” before continuing his fast pace towards the girl’s bathroom. You scoff, now even more annoyed with your entire morning, picking up your stuff as you see Nancy enter the same bathroom a few moments later. 

“In a public school bathroom?” You mutter in disgust, collecting the last of your things and heading to class. 

You decide to give Jonathan until second period, sophomore English which the two of you share, before you freak out. You know you have a problem with over worrying about the people you love, so you try to calm yourself down. While Jonathan has never been the type to cancel without at least calling first, you reason with yourself that everyone has a bad morning. He simply slept in too late. When he wakes up, he’ll come to school and he’ll be sitting in the seat next to you in English. 

Except Jonathan isn’t in the seat next to yours when you enter the classroom an hour later. Now you officially let yourself begin to worry. Something about this doesn’t feel right. 

You’ve never skipped class before, school has always been important to you. You’re the top of your class with hopes of running away from Hawkins with Jonathan to a big city with an even bigger university. However, you don’t even hesitate to flee the classroom and find the nearest phone in the school to call the Byers’ residence. 

Jonathan answers after a few rings, and the words that leave his lips change your life forever. “Will is missing.”

You feel all the air in your lungs be knocked out of you. You can’t breathe and you sway a bit as your knees threaten to give out. This isn’t real, this can’t be happening. 

“What?”

“Will, he-he’s gone, Y/N. We can’t find him and-” 

You don’t hear whatever else Jonathan says. You struggle to get air back in your lungs. Will isn’t missing, you just saw him last night. Mere hours ago Will laughed next to you, face alive with joy, he hugged you and joked along with you. 

“He didn’t come home last night-”

“He didn’t come home?” Jonathan’s words catch your attention and you feel bile rise in your throat. Will didn’t make it home last night. You were the last one to see him, and the realization crushes you; it’s all your fault. 

“Mom and I just searched the woods, and there’s no sign of him and-” Jonathan is rambling now, his own fear and despair clear in his voice. 

“Jonathan,” you force his name out, now needing to be there for your best friend. You can worry for Will in your own time, right now Jonathan needs you. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” 

“Y/N, you don’t-”

You hang up before Jonathan can argue with you and stumble towards the exit. Your limbs feel heavier than normal, and your ears are ringing. Will is missing. He’s so small, he’s scared of the dark… You left him alone in the dark. 

The bike ride to the Byers home is a blur. You don’t remember much, your body going on autopilot the second you hopped on your bike. You’re running on pure fear and adrenaline right now, too worried for your boys to focus on anything else. 

You don’t bother to knock when you arrive, instead you let yourself in. Joyce is on the phone, arguing with some woman named Cynthia. Your eyes find Jonathan’s, who is sitting on the couch hunched over something. You walk over to him and sit down beside him and your stomach lurches when you see the words “have you seen me?” he’s so neatly printed out on a piece of paper.

“Bee…” you exhale, voice cracking a bit. 

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but you know him as well as you know yourself. He doesn’t want comforting words right now. You take his hand into yours and lean your head against his shoulder. Worry has made his muscles tense, but you feel him relax into you a bit as he rests his own head against yours. The two of you sit like that for a moment, taking in the comfort you bring each other. 

“Bitch!” Joyce slams the phone down, causing you and Jonathan to jump apart. 

“Mom,”

“What?” Joyce is a mixture of both rage and anxiety, and you feel awful looking at her. Her son is missing, you can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now.

“You have to stay calm.” Jonathan tells her, his voice firm but kind. You know it’s taking everything in him to be as stable as he is right now; he’s putting on a front for his worried mother. You squeeze his hand, hoping it conveys the support and love that you need it to.

He squeezes back, and you see Joyce finally recognize that you’re there as well. She sends you a weak wave, which you return, before she goes back to dialing and trying to reach Lonnie. Jonathan gives your hand one last squeeze and lets go, now returning back to the posters. You immediately understand that he’s doing this to distract himself, so you do the same and wordlessly help him.

You begin writing your own “have you seen me?” when Joyce once again slams her phone down. The sound makes you flinch, inadvertently messing up your writing, which you sigh at. Before you can ask Jonathan for another piece of paper, you hear a car pull up. 

Jonathan stands up to investigate, alerting his mom that the cops are here. You follow after them outside, your heart dropping when you see Will’s bike in the Chief’s hand. He ushers everyone inside, informing Joyce that he found the bike lying in the road.

“How far was it from the house?” You ask, your voice frail. 

The Chief looks at you, his nametag informs you that his name is Hopper, and raises his eyebrows. “And can I know who is asking?” 

You clear your throat, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m Y/N Henderson. I’m close with the Byers, I biked with Will home,” your voice catches in your throat, snagging onto the guilt that has been clawing at you ever since you found out Will was missing. You clear your throat again, determined to continue. “I was with him last night. My brother and I live right off Mirkwood, a few blocks from here. He only had a few more minutes before he would’ve been home.” 

Hopper stares at you. “Mirkwood?”

“It’s where-”

“Yeah, those moron kids explained it to me. I just didn’t think someone your age would call the street that, too.” Then, as an afterthought, Hopper adds, “The bike was found a block from here.”

His words sting, but you ignore it. If the bike was found only a block from the Byers’ home, then that means that something had to have happened to Will only minutes after you last saw him. You feel the familiar churning in your stomach, wracked with guilt. 

“Did it have any blood on it?” Joyce now asks, and you’re thankful she’s taken the attention off of you. 

Jonathan sees your distress and grabs your sweater so that you fall back a bit from the cops and Joyce. “Do you need a minute?”

You can only nod, afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll either cry or throw up. He gently guides you to his room, closing the door. Once you’re alone, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight. You’re shaking harder than ever now, Will’s happy and shining face from last night keeps flashing through your mind. 

You were the last one who ever saw him.

You’re the one who was last responsible for him. 

You.

“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan whispers, his voice muffled by your hair. You’ve always loved how you fit perfectly in his arms, your height difference being just enough that he always rests his chin against your head when he hugs you. 

“I’m the last person who saw him.”

“Y/N, I was the one who asked you to only bike him halfway-”

“No,” your voice comes out louder than you intend it to, and you push Jonathan away. He lets out a confused noise as you grapple at him, forcing him to look directly at you. “I should’ve been with him, Jonathan. It’s your job to support your family, and it’s my job to help you. I have to… I have to be the one who helps you.” 

You’ve always been fascinated by psychology, and you remember reading in one of the journals about codependency; the term was used in relation to addiction, specifically alcoholism, but it had caught your interest. To love someone to the extent that their actions make you feel responsible for them, to selflessly take on their burdens to a debilitating extent, well, it reminded you of your relationship with Jonathan. 

You’ve always taken on whatever Jonathan has had to deal with, ever since you were kids, and it’s always come so naturally to you. He’s never asked you to, and sometimes the extent to which you carry his weight angers him, but it’s how you love.

It’s who you are. You’re always the one who helps, it’s what you need to be able to do. If you can’t help the ones you love the most, then what good is your love for them?

Jonathan may not know about codependency, but he knows how hard you love those closest to you. “Bug, listen to me.” He grabs your face, almost aggressively, in order to cut off your rambling. “My mom, she-she’s already spiraling and I can’t… I need you. I need you to be here, with me, right now. If I lose you too, then I-I don’t know what I’ll do.”

His words cut through you like glass. He’s right, you know he’s right, and you feel another wave of guilt wash over you. This guilt is different from the guilt surrounding Will. This is mixed with shame for allowing yourself to spiral so far and forcing Jonathan to take care of you. Joyce is clearly unwell, you can’t fathom how much he’s had to deal with today. 

You gently remove Jonathan’s hands from your face and take a step back. If you’re going to help him, you need to collect yourself. From here on out, you have to be a wall for him to lean on, a shoulder to cry on, someone who will listen to him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jonathan shrugs at you, now allowing a hesitant smile to cross his face. “If it makes you feel any better, it took a lot less pleading to get through to you. I’m still working on my mom.” 

The joke is foul, one that should make you feel even worse than you already do, because what sixteen year old has to plead with their mother to remind her that he’s there, too? The joke is horrible, and it’s exactly what you need to find yourself laughing, and Jonathan joins. 

Codependency can be a bitch, but Jonathan understands you in ways that no one else can. 

“You think the cops are gone?” You ask, wiping away the remaining tears. 

Jonathan listens for any sign of them and shakes his head. “No, I think we’re all clear.”

He walks out the room first and you follow after him. Joyce is standing in the kitchen, staring at the counter with a far off look in her eyes. You and Jonathan look at each other and you motion for him to go talk to her. He nods, and then you motion to the living room to indicate that you’ll continue working on the missing posters. 

Carefully writing on the posters soothes you, in a way. It’s rhythmic, providing a sense of lull that you readily embrace. You faintly hear Jonathan talking with his mother, then you watch as he leads her to her bedroom and shuts the door. When he returns he sits next to you on the couch and begins to work on the posters as well. No words are needed. 

You work on the posters in silence for a few hours until it nears 3pm. Dustin will be getting out of school soon, and you have to be there for him when he’s home. While Will may be Jonathan’s brother, he’s also your brother’s best friend. You get up and head into the kitchen, long familiar now with its layout and usual contents within the fridge, and quickly prepare the ingredients for spaghetti. It’s a simple meal, but Jonathan and Joyce need to eat. Once it’s all laid out, you return to the living room and tap on your friend’s shoulder. 

“Hey, I have to head out now to check on Dustin, but I just put a pot of water on the stove along with some noodles on the counter. I also cut up some vegetables and put them in the fridge for the sauce. Start the meal whenever, I laid everything out for you.”

“Thank you, really,” Jonathan exhales, relief evident on his face. He hadn’t even thought about dinner, which you figured he wouldn’t. 

You bend down to kiss the top of his head. “Anytime, bee. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” 

“Just…” you linger at the door, not fully wanting to leave him all by himself. “Be careful, please.” 

“Go, Y/N. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Jonathan reassures you.

“I’ll be fine, I promise!” Will’s voice is distant, now a few yards away, and you stand outside for a few more seconds to watch his figure disappear into the night.

It’s brief, but the flashback punches you in the gut. You close your eyes, holding onto the image of Will’s face in the moonlight last night, and when it fades you take a deep breath and force yourself to leave. 

The second you’re on your bike, pedaling away from the house, you let the sobs that have wracked against your throat all day out. It’s messy, the tears coming down your face faster than you can wipe them away. All the fear you’ve felt is now able to freely come out. It’s not the safest way to bike home, but you know that if you hold the tears in any longer you’ll collapse. You do your best to still be alert, but apparently you fail because a BMW honks at you to avoid you hitting it. 

“Fuck!” You yank your bike to the right, having no idea that you had been on the left side of the road, and topple over. The fall isn’t anything bad, but it definitely is your final straw for the day. You lay in the ditch you’ve landed in, staring at the November sky, and let the pain from your skinned knee serve as something to ground you to reality. 

“Holy shit, did I hit you?” 

Steve Harrington stands over you, a horrified look in his eyes. 

“Unfortunately not, otherwise I’d be able to sue you and get money out of it.” 

“Uh… okay?” He offers you his hand, although still very confused. “You didn’t like, happen to hit your head or anything, right?” 

You accept his help, albeit mostly because you have to, and brush yourself off when you’re up. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t paying attention, sorry.” 

Steve nods, as if you almost getting hit by his car makes perfect sense to him. When you walk over to your bike and inspect it for any damage, he follows after you. 

“So,” he whistles, trying to pretend that this is all a completely normal occurrence. “You, uh, need a ride?”

Honestly you don’t know why you’re surprised he hasn’t noticed the clear signs of you crying, your swollen eyes and red nose. Not only is he a boy, but he’s also Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle he even stopped to make sure you weren’t dead. 

“No,” you say, now repositioning your backpack so that you can get back on your bike. “Thanks anyways, Harrington.” 

Steve continues to follow you, even after you’ve started to pedal away. “You’re welcome, random girl I almost hit!”

You’re a bit further now, and you still feel like utter shit, but his words somehow make you laugh a bit. For a brief moment, you forget about everything, so you call behind, “It’s Henderson!” 

“That’s an odd first name!” The boy shouts after you, still following from a distance. 

“Y/N Henderson!” You’re fully yelling now, a good yard away, but you can tell that Steve hears you based on the way he begins to wave eagerly, finally stopping next to his car. Faintly you understand the boyish charm that makes him so loved by all the girls in the school; you understand why Nancy Wheeler has fallen for him.

“Bye, Y/N!” It’s faint, but you swear you can hear a smile in his voice.  

The good mood that Steve Harrington inexplicably puts you in vanishes when you near your house. Nothing has changed, yet it feels as if something has shifted. Will had been here only hours ago. You spot Dustin’s bike laying on the grass, haphazardly thrown as usual. 

Dustin is just taking off his coat when you enter, immediately running over to him to pull him into a bone crushing hug. 

“Y/N!” he squeaks in surprise. 

“Are you okay?” You know you’re squeezing your brother harder than you need to, but God. He’s safe, in your arms, and you’ve now learned that not everyone can say the same about their own loved ones. 

Dustin wiggles a bit, trying to break away from the hug, but you only pull him in tighter. “Geesh, no one died.” 

Normally you’d berate him, but you embrace his snarky comments. They’re what make Dustin so unique, his humor one of your favorite parts of him

When you don’t respond, Dustin stops wiggling around and finally accepts the situation. “I love ya too, sis.” 

You giggle a bit, now pulling away. “At least mom isn’t home right now. The minute she hears about what’s happened, we’ll be on lockdown.”

Dustin’s eyes widen. “Shit, you’re right.” 

“Lan-”

“Language, I know.”

You ruffle his hair, now feeling a bit better. Dustin is still Dustin, so maybe everything will be okay. You and your brother go into the kitchen for your post school snack, and you call your boss to inform her that you can’t make it to your shift. The words “family emergency” catch in your throat a bit, and Mrs. Waters is kind enough not to push it.

Dustin catches you up on his day, informing you about Hopper questioning him and the other boys. 

You scrunch your nose at that. “Is that even legal?”

“Unsure, but it was awesome.”

“Will went missing, Dustin. It isn’t ‘awesome’.”

Dustin tilts his head at you. “Well, I bet Will is going to have a blast hearing everything when we find him.” 

His words are so matter of fact, as if he already knows that Will will be found after all. His naivety worries you a bit, but you also can’t help but indulge in his hope as well. Then you think about what he’s just said. “Wait, who’s ‘we’?”

Your brother pretends he can't hear you, miming at his ears. “Dustin-”

“What?”

“Dustin, you and the boys can’t just-”

“I can’t hear you!” He’s running to his room now with you quick behind his heels. 

“Dustin, I swear to God-”

“I gotta do homework, Y/N, bye!” He slams the door in your face. 

You sigh. There’s no getting through to him, years of being Dustin’s older sister has taught you that, so you go into your room instead. You might as well get started on the assignments you missed today, and you have a huge chem test tomorrow, so you’ll focus on that and keep an ear out for Dustin. Whatever he’s planning with the boys, you won’t let them do it alone. 

After a couple hours of silence from Dustin’s room, you decide to call Jonathan. The line rings for a while with no answer, and eventually you give up. It makes sense that he’s not answering, he’s had a long day. You hope he’s asleep, but you know him better than that. He’s probably holed up in his room, trying to distract himself like you are right now. 

A loud thud from Dustin’s room breaks you from your thoughts. Then you hear a quiet “shhh!” that sounds suspiciously like Lucas, and you immediately throw on your shoes and a jacket and march outside. 

Dustin is halfway out of his window when you arrive, and Mike and Lucas stare at you, caught red handed. 

“Guys, I think she can hear us.” Your brother says, breaking the silence. Mike scoffs at him and Lucas groans. 

You eye the three of them, unamused. “Your best friend just went missing, what the hell are you guys doing out here so late and alone?”

Dustin awkwardly finishes his descent down, finally landing on his feet with a thud. He secures his hat back on his head and goes to grab his bike. You block his path. 

“I’m serious, one of you needs to start talking, now.” 

Lucas and Dustin look at Mike, who is their unofficial leader of the gang, and he huffs. “Look, Y/N, I like you-”

“How thrilling.” You say, voice monotone. 

The boy ignores you and continues to talk. “But Will is missing, and we aren’t just going to sit around and wait. He’s our friend, we have to do something.” 

You open your mouth to speak, but Lucas interrupts you. “You’re definitely our favorite sister in the group, so you’d be even cooler if you let us go.” 

Again, you try to respond, but this time Dustin beats you to it. “Yeah, you’re like, totally cool already. If you pretend that you never saw us, that’d be great.” 

“Guys-”

“And don’t give us a whole lecture about safety. That’s all bull.” Mike says. 

“Boys!” You scream. They all fall silent, not used to you ever raising your voice at them. You’ve only ever yelled at them once or twice, preferring to be the “cool” sister whenever you can, but right now they’re seriously pissing you off. 

“Let me speak.” When no one says anything, you continue. “I’m not going to stop you guys from looking for Will. In fact, I support it-”

“You do?”

You shoot Mike a death glare, which promptly shuts him up. “Yes, I do. However, I’m not letting you guys go alone.” 

The boys all groan at this, acting as if it’s the worst thing in the world to have you tag along with them. You ignore their complaining and head over to where your bike sits against the porch. You zip up your coat, the chill from the night making you shiver a bit. 

“No arguing, or I’ll call all your moms. Ours included, Dustin.”

“Why me?”

“Look, guys. I’m proud of you for stepping up, but I’m coming with. The last time I let one of you boys go off into the woods alone…” 

The boys shift uncomfortably now, realizing how heavy the guilt weighs upon you. After a few beats of silence, Mike finally gives in. 

“Fine,” he says, pointing a finger at you. “But the second you start to freak out, you’re gone.” 

You salute Mike, hopping on your bike as you all begin to bike away. The ride doesn’t take long, since you live just off of where Will was last seen. Thunder rumbles when you all approach the crime scene, and you shudder a bit. 

“It’s going to rain, guys.” You inform them. 

Dustin looks up at the sky with uncertainty. “I think maybe we should go back.”

Mike is quick to shut down the idea, urging the others to keep going. You admire his loyalty to Will, and you figure it’s why the two of you butt heads so often. Out of the entire group, you’re the most similar to him. 

Lucas and Mike go under the caution tape first, and Dustin hangs back. You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We can go back, you know.” 

He clenches his jaw, jutting his chin out a bit. “No, Will needs us.”

Your brother puffs out his chest and follows after his friends, leaving you to take up the rear. More thunder rumbles and the rain begins to come down. You flip your hood up, thankful you remembered to grab a hoodie when leaving. 

Mike guides the way with his flashlight, then Lucas, then Dustin, then you in the back. You make sure to keep your eyes on the three boys, scared that the second you look away they’ll be gone. The woods have always creeped you out, but you push your fear down to keep them safe. 

“Will!” Mike calls out, the rain now pouring down on you guys. 

“Byers!” 

“Will, little bee!” You call out as well. He never liked when you called him that in front of the others, but tonight was an exception. 

“I’ve got your X-Men 134!” Your brother bribes, unintentionally making you laugh a bit. If Will is nearby, he’ll surely come out to claim his prize. 

Your foot catches on a tree log, and you slip in the mud before just barely managing to catch yourself. It’s getting hard to see given how dark it is and the rain surrounding you. Dustin voices his concerns, only to be called a baby, and you bite your tongue. If you defend him, he’ll only look more like a baby to his friends. 

“I’m just being realistic!” He retaliates, which you commend him for. 

“Dustin’s right, guys. It’s getting really bad out here. We’re surrounded by a ton of trees, don’t they attract lightning?” You ask, now paranoid that you’ll be struck down any second. 

“You guys are being sissies.” Lucas taunts, annoyed as well. 

You try to argue, but Dustin voices a thought that’s been at the back of your mind. “Did you ever think Will went missing because he ran into something bad?”

You think back to how Hopper seemed worried when he investigated the Byers home. From what you can recall, he suspected that Will had been running away from something, explaining why he’d abandon his bike.

“And now we’re going to the exact same spot where he was last seen, and we have no weapons or anything?”

Maybe Dustin’s right. This definitely wasn’t your best idea, and you’re regretting letting them follow through with their plan. For someone who claims to want to keep their loved ones safe, you really suck at it. 

“Dustin, shut up.” Mike voices, though he now looks a bit concerned as well. 

“He’s right, Mike.” You speak up, stumbling a bit in more mud. Your shoes are definitely ruined, now. “I was at Jonathan’s when Hopper showed up, he thinks Will was running from something.” 

The boys go quiet now, and when you’re about to suggest going home, you hear rustling in the bushes. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Mike asks. 

Your heart stops as the rustling continues and you all start to twist and turn, looking for the source of the sound. The rustling gets louder, almost as if it’s getting closer, and you tighten your hand around your flashlight, ready to use it as a weapon just in case. 

Then, the light flashes upon a little girl, drenched in an oversized yellow shirt, shivering. Her head is shaved, but her small stature suggests to you that she is indeed a girl. You all stare at her, no one saying a thing. She stares back, a terrified look on her face that breaks your heart. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper. 

Her eyes land on you; something about her reminds you of Will, and  you know that nothing will be the same again.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

[preet-01]

The plan originally was to write a Brocedes reconciliation fic based on a shared elevator in their Monaco apartment building, but that did not happen

His worst enemy. The bane of his existence. The site of all his fears. The fuel of his nightmares. 

The breath of fresh air. The hope of having all he wants. The moment in the presence of his one eternal love. 

It all comes down to an elevator. 

Pathetic. 

He's a seven-time world champion. The face of the sport he loves and has dedicated his life to. A desirable bachelor anyone would feel lucky to have. He is more than anything ever imagined possible for him and much more than those who wanted to shoot him down. 

But yet, it's in an elevator that he finds his hopes and fears. Locked away in a small cubicle for no more than two minutes is all he ever thinks about whenever he's at home in Monaco. Hoping that he'll find himself locked in there with Him. Fearing that when those doors open He'll be standing there. Wanting and dreading all in one breath, the most horrible juxtaposition of his life. And yet the greatest. 

His therapist would tell him to stop staying in that apartment. To permanently move into the apartment he'd bought in a fit of anger and sadness when He had retired from the sport they loved, dreamt of racing in ever since they were children. But he would have to talk to his therapist about Him for that advice to be given. He would have to tell someone about Him finally, finally verbalize the love, the pain, the sadness, the longing, and the desperation that surrounded Him.

Every time Lewis leaves his apartment and enters the elevator, it is a game of Russian Roulette. But he welcomes it like an old friend. 

Standing in front of the elevator with one airpod in his ear and his phone playing some song Daniel had recommended during a previous race weekend, Lewis does not hear one word of the song. He’ll have to relisten to it or lie to Daniel. For now, Lewis is busy praying and thinking. Whether he prays to see Him or not, Lewis does not know, nor does he wish to figure it out – fearing what either option means for him. 

The elevator dings as the doors slowly open. 

A flash of blond hair and a silk, patterned two-piece set are all he sees before He rushes forward and presses the close doors button. 

The choice is made for him and his prayers remain in question. 

Hitting replay, Lewis listens to Daniel’s song recommendation and texts him before pressing the down button. He only waits a few minutes for another elevator to arrive. 

It’s not the same elevator He had been in, but nonetheless, Lewis feels his ever-persistent presence haunting the space. 

The two-minute elevator ride goes by quickly and Lewis is just as quick to exit a space haunted by all his desires and hatreds. He had not faced Him today, not truly He had taken that out of his hand, but Lewis knows that he won’t always be so lucky or perhaps unlucky. 

_____

Sometimes Nico forgets and pushes the button for floor 32 instead of the button for the lobby. 

Sometimes he forgets and steps out of the elevator and doesn’t remember until he stands on the doorstep of Lewis’ apartment with his hand raised and ready to ring the doorbell. Sometimes he forgets and rings the bell. 

And each time, he has to rush to the stairwells, hoping that maybe Lewis won’t be home and won’t see Nico standing in the hall when he lives a floor above. 

But sometimes, he prays that today would be the day Lewis opens the door. Sometimes he dreams of what would happen if Nico wasn’t fast enough – just as he was rarely fast enough when racing Lewis – and Lewis saw him in the hall, running from him like he has so many times before like a coward. Lewis had always been the braver one between the two of them – forced to be brave where Nico was allowed, no expected, to be soft. 

So used to forgetting and pressing the button for floor 32, Nico rushes forward and presses the close doors button when the elevator dings. In his fear of being seen by Lewis, he doesn’t realize that the flash of tattooed brown skin and chocolate brown eyes was not some stranger but Lewis until the elevator dings again signaling its arrival in the lobby. 

The difference between them has never been clearer. For all that Lewis avoids him in the paddock, he had never avoided getting into elevators with him. Meanwhile, Nico, who rarely avoids speaking of Lewis, always ran at the first opportunity. 

Nico hates elevators.

A simple cell that should deliver him from his floor to the lobby and vice versa, easily becomes much more. It is a prison in which he’s confined for two minutes with a man that he’d once dreamed of spending eternity with, but now only gets fleeting moments with lest he feel like a coward and run. It is the ghosts of a life he misses terribly that guide him to his salvation and demise, deluding him into believing that they are still two boys who dreamed of a life together and talked about connecting the two apartments that were one on top of the other so they would never need an elevator to be together. 

Now they haunt the same elevators, imprisoning themselves for two brief minutes, just to be in one another’s presence. A simple elevator that they once hated for how it separated them, kept them apart for longer than needed, now is the only thing that keeps them together, forces them to exist in the same space. 

Sometimes Nico forgets, but most times he remembers and that remains the worst thing ever. Elevators are all he has and are all he dreads these days. 

[lolahaurisfw]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Here i'll only be taking requests for fluff, platonic, and angst! Reqs are always open like usual too, and you can request as much as you want and as detailed as you want! i just get to things when i can/want to.

Anon's: None Yet

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahauri @chowderpop

AO3: Here

BlueSky: Here

-> MASTERLIST <-

DNI: Map, Zoo, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Discourse Blogs. Block me if you don't agree. ❤️🖤🤍💚

What I Won't Write:

Smut. (Go to my other blog)

What I'm Willing To Write:

Reader Who Is: Tall, Short, Fat, Chubby, Curvy, Buff. Trans/NB.

Reader Who Has: Depression, Anxiety, DPDR, ADD.

Fluff, angst, platonic, hurt/comfort.

HC's, one shots, short multi-chapter fics, imagines/drabbles.

Canon-friendly, AU's, Canon Divergence, Out of Character.

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Fictional Other (F/O) Imagines: +18, no names, they/them only.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request others from these fandoms, but it will prob take me longer)

Adventure Time/Fiona & Cake: PB, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona.

Attack On Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin, Ymir. 

Avatar: Jake, Neytiri.

Batman Begins Trilogy: Batman, Catwoman, Bane, Joker, Scarecrow.

Beauty & The Beast: Belle, Beast/Adam, Gaston.

Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast.

BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Penny, Amy.

Bistro Huddy: All Staff Members.

Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite.

BNA: Michiru, Shirou.

Bob’s Burgers: Bob, Linda.

Breaking Bad: Jesse, Skylar.

Call of Duty: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria, Farah.

Creepypasta: Jeff, Jane, Ben, Toby, EJ, LJ, Slenderman, Splendorman, Clockwork, Kate, Masky, Hoodie,

Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabi, Edie, Lynette, Carlos, John.

Dirty Dancing: Johnny, Baby.

Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Zeebo, Wiploc, Valerie.

Elemental: Wade, Ember.

Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta.

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve.

Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.

Futurama: Leela, Fry, Amy, Bender.

Good Pizza, Great Pizza: Alicante, Octavia, Dr. Keh, Nasir, Flash, Cicero, Kimmy Slice, Dr. Price.

Grandma's Boy: J.P, Samantha.

Gravity Falls: Ford, Stan, Soos, Melody, Giffany, Bill.

Jane The Virgin: Jane, Michael, Petra, Luisa, Rose, Rogelio, Xiomara.

Jurassic Park (1993): Ian Malcolm, Ellie Sattler.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna.

King of the Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luane, Nancy, Dale, Khan, Min, John Redcorn.

Life Is Strange (2015): Maxine, Chloe.

Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy.

Little Mermaid (2022): Ariel, Eric.

MHA: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Shigaraki.

Miller's Girl: Cairo, Johnathon.

Moon Knight: Moon System, Layla, Khonshu.

Mulan: Mulan, Li Shang.

National Treasure: Benjamin, Riley.

Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Bowser, Waluigi.

Norbit: Rasputia, Norbit.

Princess & The Frog: Tiana, Lottie, Naveen, Shadow Man.

Ratatouille: Colette, Linguini. 

Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson.

Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Carlos Oiliveria, Lady Dimitrescu.

Rick and Morty: Rick, Jerry, Beth, Doofus Rick.

Riverdale: FP Jones, Hiram.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Kim, Ramona, Gideon, Wallace.

Scream 5: Amber, Tara, Sam.

Serial Mom: Chip, Beverly.

Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Shallow Hal: Rosemary, Hal.

Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V.

SheRa (2018): All Adults.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock, John Watson.

Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Huntress, Trapper, Wraith, Trickster, Pearl, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Patrick Batmeman, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven, The Artist, Amanda Young.

Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew.

Spongebob: Dennis, Man Ray.

Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo.

Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans (Except George & Evelyn)

Steven Universe: Garnet, Amethyst, Peridot, Lapis, Jasper, Blue Diamond, Rose, Greg.

Stranger Things: Robin, Billy Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper.

Supernatural: Sam, Dean, Castiel.

Super Store: Amy, Jonah, Dina, Garrett, Cheyenne.

Tangled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell.

The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler.

The Breakfast Club: John Bender, Allison Reynolds.

The Nanny: C.C, Fran, Maxwell.

Total Drama Island: S1 Contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley.

Triple Frontier: Frankie, Santiago.

Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee.

Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie.

YOU: Beck, Joe, Peach, Love.

Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie.

~

Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year)

Astarion (Baulder’s Gate 3)

Babbo Natale (Violent Night)

Barbie (Barbie 2023)

Basil Stitt (Lightning Face)

Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs)

Bruce (Beyond Therapy)

Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Praire)

Charlie Dompler (Smiling Friends)

Chel (Road to El Dorado)

Dale Kobble (Longlegs)

Dan Conner (Rosanne)

David Levinson (Independence Day)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Doug Remer (Baseketball)

Duke Leto Atreides (Dune)

Fezzik (Princess Bride)

Francine (American Dad)

Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia)

Jack Harrison (Translyvania 6-5000)

Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield 2024)

John Doe (John Doe Game)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

John Wick (John Wick 4)

King Baldwin (Kingdom of Heaven)

Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto)

Laurent LeClaire (In Secret)

Linda Gunderson (Rio)

Llewyn Davis (Inside Lleywn Davis)

Master Chief (Halo)

Mike (5lbs of Pressure)

Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops)

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch)

Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina)

Outcome-3 (The Bourne Legacy)

Orestes (Agora)

Paul Blart (Paul Blart: Mall Cop)

Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River)

Peggy Bundy (Married With Children)

Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby)

Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Prince John (Robin Hood 2010)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick)

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Shiv (Pu-239)

Stanley Ipkiss (The Mask)

Star-Lord (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Summer Field (Time Cut)

Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House)

The Janitor (Willy’s Wonderland)

Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980)

William Tell (The Card Counter)

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Kia Ora Koutou,  I finally got through the last list of requests and fics!! Thank you so much everyone for requesting, I could have never imagined this much love and stuff for my fics like..ever! so to have all these requests and other things like comments and all that come through means a lot to me, and i hope i can deliver good fics for yous ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I have the end of next month off, so I'll be able to write more often then, but for now, i just gotta try fit writing in between life :,) I've also updated my masterlists and request thingys, so yeah..wee~

This is the order in which I'll try to write everything: - Behind the Mask (Part 2) - Bunny (part 3) - Secret Ties (Part 2) - You are the right one (part 2) - Raymond request - Jonathan Crane Song request - Jackson Ripner request And these (with them only being headcanons) I'll just write sometime between the other fics above: - Montgomery Gator headcanon - Bane headcanon

Also with Part 6 to Office Hours/Bells, I'll just squeeze it in somewhere (as I ended up cutting part 5 up so it wouldn't be so long and so i could get it out sooner)

Sorry for the wait everyone, Nga mihi 💚

[levi-venn]

The First Toothpick

Chapter Six: Oh, He's Much Worse...

Characters: Cad Bane, Crosshair, Tech (Flashbacks), Hunter (Flashbacks), Wrecker (Flashbacks)

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapter Summary: When Crosshair finds Bane outnumbered, he disobeys orders to protect his mentor.

Read the previous chapters here:

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Also Available on AO3

Crosshair bolted past the spring-loaded mirrored panels breaching the wheat field like glassy-eyed sea snakes. There was no pattern to the way the panels appeared, and in the month he had trained here, they never popped out of the same place twice.

But he didn’t have time to think about that…or anything else.

Not with Bane watching him in the bell tower, the Duros's blaster fire hot on Crosshair's heels, searing past his ankles, his legs, and sometimes his ears if he stopped moving entirely.

Three panels suddenly burst around him, and Crosshair leapt forward, missing the bolt flying past his back. He fired his rifle three times. 

He hit two targets. 

He missed the third target by a mile.

A month ago, Crosshair would have frozen up over a miss like that, but then again, Bane wasn’t firing live blaster bolts at him before a month ago.

Crosshair dropped into a backward roll, hopped to his feet, and fired again.

Perfect bullseye.

I did it! I-

He ducked as a bolt sizzled over his head.

He kept running. 

Run. Dodge. Roll. Fire. Miss. Run! Dodge. Fire. Hit!

The exercise lasted all day, every day, and his accuracy soared to the low nineties as of this week. Bane told Crosshair to ignore the “damn numbers”, but Todo still snuck him the statistics after every session. 

Yesterday it was ninety-two percent. Today, felt like-

The panels suddenly vanished.  Crosshair skidded to a halt.  He stood in the middle of the field, his lungs on fire, sweat trickling down his back, muscles coiled, ready for the next challenge.

But no panels came.

Crosshair looked up at the bell tower and pulled his comm out. “I can continue,” Crosshair panted, trying (and failing) not to overanalyze the sudden end to his training.

Did I miss too many targets today? Has he given up on me? 

“Get inside,” Bane said, through the comms.

Crosshair’s heart dropped. 

Ninety-two isn’t good enough. I knew it. It’s not enough.

“I can do better.”

He saw the glow of Bane’s eyes glare at him from the bell tower. “Dank farrik, kid, you did great. Now get inside, now .”

Great? Crosshair thought, looking around the field as if expecting Bane to talk to anyone but him. He's never called me "great" before. Was I really-

A blaster bolt shot just past his pant leg, the fabric sizzling noisily. 

With an angry hiss, Crosshair ran inside the house.

The false wall within the fireplace slid open and Bane leapt down from the bell tower, firing his boot thrusters to cushion his landing. He pushed past Crosshair and pulled out his monoculars, looking at something past the field Crosshair couldn’t see.

Crosshair tried to stand beside Bane, but Bane  grabbed the top of his head and pushed him back. “Get upstairs.”

With a snarl of protest, Crosshair instead moved to the bay window beside the front door. He aimed his scope through the curtain, searching the field. 

Todo into the house from the back door. “Mr. Bane! Skatter is here.”

“I see that.”

Crosshair didn’t see…wait…there was a speeder in the distance ignoring the winding roads and cutting directly through the expansive wheat field. 

Todo floated beside Bane, his little hands on his blocky hips. “I don’t suppose he’s forgiven you for stealing his contracts from the Hutts.”

“Didn’t steal ‘em,” Bane said, tucking the monoculars away and leaning in the doorway. “They were Jango’s contracts to give away. Not my fault Skatter didn’t earn ‘em like I did.”

“Mmm…” Todo hummed. “I don’t think he saw it that way.”

“Move the Fabools to the storm cellar, then hide out of sight in the field. Be ready to fight if it comes to that.”

“Finally, a little excitement,” Todo said, cheerfully and flew off. 

Crosshair could see the speeder better now. There were four weequays in the back of the speeder and a dowutin driving, taking up the entire front seat. 

They all looked mean, and much bigger than Bane.

“You,” Bane snapped. “Go upstairs and stay in your room.”

Crosshair blinked. “But there’s five of them. You need backup-”

“I ain’t askin’, I’m tellin’. Now git.”

Crosshair held Bane’s gaze defiantly for a few seconds, before slinging his rifle over his shoulder and making a show of walking upstairs, his boot falls heavy and noisy. As soon as Bane went outside, however, Crosshair slid silently down the bannister and back to the bay window, peeking through the curtain.

Bane walked to the edge of the porch platform, leaning against one of the columns, pulling back his duster to reveal a pair of LL-30 blaster pistols at his hips. The brim of his hat was low, but Crosshair glimpsed a small, fearless smirk baring sharp, white fangs.

Crosshair didn't have fangs, but he curled his lip up all the same, checking his reflection against Bane's perfect sneer. He would try the expression when he got home. A Bane-quality sneer would definitely scare the shit out of the Regs.

Bane produced a toothpick from the pouch on his belt and set it casually between his teeth, resting his hands on his belt buckle as if he was getting ready to watch a sunset. 

Crosshair could mimic the sneer, and even fished his own wheat stalk toothpick from his pocket, but he didn’t feel Bane’s ease. He was a coiled spring, his heart pounding and palms sweaty. There were five mercenaries and one Bane by himself on the porch. He didn’t like the odds.

The speeder burned through the wheat field leaving a stinking trail of burnt grass and exhaust fumes in its wake. It slid to a halt in front of the porch and the dowutin climbed out, his duster dragging heavily behind him, weighed down by half-hidden weapons, detonators, and blades.

Crosshair had never seen a dowutin in person, but his Humanoid Studies Class didn’t prepare him for how large one was in person. Bane was on the top step of the elevated porch and the dowutin still towered over him. He was built like a carbonite tank, muscled arms and legs that were round like barrels, and a pair of blunt tusks protruded from his chin like a pair of ball hammers. There was a black lightning bolt tattooed over the dowutin's left eye.

“Well lookee here, boys,” the dowutin snickered. “It’s little Caddy, lookin’ all big n’ tough on his boss’s ranch.”

Bane tilted the brim of his hat up, his glowing red eyes boring into Skatter, though that sneer remained on his face. “You’ve been gone a long time, Skatter, so maybe you ain’t up on current events. This ranch belongs to me n’ the name’s Bane, now.”

“Ohh, I heard all about your name. Cad Bane. Real cute. You think that makes you a real merc?”

Crosshair’s teeth clenched in anger. No one talked to Bane like that. 

“You don’t get to talk to my brother like that, reg” Crosshair snarled, standing in front of Wrecker who was still kneeling over his broken tooka doll. “Back off.”

Both cadets laughed. “Ohh, look, Wrench! Another ‘Defective’. This one’s barely got a voice.”

“Sounds like a leaky faucet to me, Gutter,” Wrench laughed.

“They hurt Lula, Crosshair,” Wrecker whimpered, cradling the tooka’s head in his large hands. 

“That’s what you get for snoopin’ around our mess hall,” Gutter said.

“Yeah! This mess hall’s for real clones,” Wrench said, “not broken tube rejects,” 

“I said back off, regs” Crosshair’s fists clenched, “Final warning.”

Wrench stepped forward. “And I said, you’re defective.”

“Defective…” Crosshair sneered, his fists relaxing. “...but effective.”

He threw his forehead forward, hearing a satisfying crunch as he hit Wrench on the nose. As the cadet stumbled back, clutching his bleeding face, Crosshair ducked Gutter’s left hook and slammed his shoulder into his sternum, knocking him to the ground.

Wrench yanked Gutter to his feet and the two ran off down the hallway.

Wiping the blood from his forehead, Crosshair knelt beside Wrecker. “You good?”

Though his good eye was round and glassy with tears, Wrecker was still smiling ear-to-ear. “Hehehe, I liked that! We’re defective and effective!”

Crosshair smirked. “Well, I was at least. Next time, feel free to jump in.”

“I couldn’t leave Lula!” Wrecker sniffled. “She’s still broken.”

“Ugh, that stupid doll,” Crosshair sighed. “Come with me. Tech has a sewing kit.”

Crosshair waited for Bane to take a swing. To pull a blaster. To answer that insult with violence.

Instead, Bane sounded almost bored. “Nah, I let the bounties I collect for the Hutts do the talkin’ for me.”

The words seemed to hit Skatter harder than any headbutt. 

“Those were my contracts and you know it,” Skatter said, face going red, his lip curling higher than Crosshair could mimic. Then suddenly, the duwotin’s expression eased into a too-nice smile. “But hey, that’s all water under the walkway. Listen, me n’ the boys gotta lay low for a few days. We uh…had a lil disagreement with the authorities down South. You don’t mind us stayin' here, do ya? Only eight of us.”

Over my dead body, Crosshair said, rechecking his menacing lip curl in the reflective mirror.

Good, still looks fearsome. 

“Just eight huh? Don't y'all call yourself the Feisty Fourteen?”

“Fearless Fifteen,” Skatter growled.

“In any case, I can’t help ya. We’re full up here.”

“Funny, Caddy, last I heard you work alone except for that bucket of bolts that follows you around. Maybe we can be of some used to ya. Notice that lil enclosure behind the house. What's behind that curtain, huh? It ain't fabools is it? Cuz y'know, me n' the boys could look after them while we stay here.”

“Only thing in that enclosure are my collection of weequay heads that ask too many questions,” Bane said, giving the weequays in the speeder a little wink.

The weequays glared murderously from the back seat, their hands twitching near their blasters as if one wrong move meant a hail of blaster bolts aimed at Bane. 

Kriff that, Crosshair thought. I won’t let them hurt him. 

Bane may not be his brother, but he was Crosshair’s…someone. It didn’t matter that Bane was getting paid to do train him, he helped Crosshair find his confidence and that meant something. Even when Lt. Pynk gave up on him, even when Crosshair gave up on himself, Bane never stopped believing in what he could do. Bane may not know it yet, but he just earned Crosshair’s loyalty for life.

Crosshair slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked boldly out of the front door. 

“Cross, get out of here.” Hunter panted, clutching his leg. 

“Not gonna happen,” Crosshair said, grabbing Hunter’s blaster off the ground and taking cover the barrier. He pressed the blaster into Hunter’s hand and the two of them took down the second wave of training droids together.

“I just bruised my ankle,” Hunter grimaced. 

“I saw you fall off the platform. It’s fractured and you know it,” Crosshair said. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No.”

Crosshair glared at Hunter. "Don't lie to me.”

Hunter held that glare for half a second, then dropped his gaze. “I think I broke my wrist, too.”

Crosshair turned around and patted his own back. “Climb on. I’m carrying you out of here.”

“Like hell you are. You have to focus on your scores. Pynk said-”

“Fuck my scores. We don’t leave our own behind. Even when they’re being idiots.”

The next wave of clankers started their approach towards the barricade. "Either climb on or I stun you and fireman carry you out of here. I prefer not to haul dead weight,” Crosshair looked back with a cheeky grin, “but it’s your choice.”

Hunter chose to wrap his good arm around Crosshair. “Thank you,” Hunter mumbled.

“Shut up,” Crosshair snipped, and fired wildly behind him as he ran to the next checkpoint, trying to ignore his score plummeting on the holoboard overhead.

“I’m done talkin’, Skatter,” Bane said, pulling out the toothpick and flicking it at the dowutin. It bounced off his broad chest and disappeared into the grass. “If I were you, I’d skedaddle before you say somethin’ you n’ yer boys’ll regret.” 

As Crosshair walked out of the house, he realized Bane was already leaning against one of the porch pillars looking badass. There wasn't another spot to lean and look equally as menacing. So, Crosshair decided to stand in the center of the porch, arms folded, a piece of grass between his teeth and executing a perfectly threatening sneer. 

Bane didn’t seem to notice his arrival, but Skatter’s beady black eyes zeroed in on him with laser focus. Crosshair had hoped his appearance would make the dowutin think twice before messing with this ranch…

…but Skatter just sneered right back.

“Huh…well, ain’t that interestin’...”

Bane’s head shifted ever so slightly to cast his scarlet gaze at Crosshair.

“Didn’t know you were a family man now, Caddy. Be a real shame if we made some violence in front of yer son. He could get hurt.”

Son…?

Crosshair was no one’s son. Clones didn’t have parents and all they needed was a trainer and the brothers in their squad. Still, Crosshair understood the concept, and when he thought of a "son", he imagined still images from his old picture books. Boys riding on their father’s shoulders, being taught how to shoot a blaster, how to shave, how to be strong and brave and…and all that kraytshit.

Bane did give me a new blaster rifle. And I feel stronger around him.

…I feel braver, too. 

He’d probably say no to a piggyback ride, though.

Crosshair waited for Bane to correct Skatter. 

Instead, Bane wore an easy smile. “The kid’s gotta learn sometime. Might as well take the trainin’ wheels off now.”

The duwotin didn’t respond. 

No one moved.

The weequays looked from Skatter to Bane and back again.

Crosshair didn't breathe. 

Skatter laughed suddenly. “Now, now, ain’t no need for that today. C’mon, boys, let’s leave this little family to their business. Sorry for disturbin’ ya, Caddy. No hard feelin's.” He looked directly at Crosshair and gave him a little wink. “I’ll see y’all real soon, though.”

And with that, Skatter hopped back into the speeder and tore out of the golden field, leaving oily black smoke behind.

Bane whirled around, the leather of his duster snapping angrily. “I told you to stay inside.”

Crosshair took a step back, the wheat wiggling loosely in his lips as he spoke. “You needed backup.”

Bane snatched the “toothpick” out of Crosshair’s mouth and pointed it at him. “How exactly were ya gonna do that, huh? Your rifle’s on your shoulder. You’re standing in the middle of the damn porch like a sittin’ porg. You think Skatter and his boys are gonna wait for you to find cover and line up a shot?" he threw Crosshair's toothpick into the grass. "What were ya thinkin’?”

An icy devastation froze Crosshair’s nerves. 

“I thought…” Tears stung his eyes, his voice went quiet. “...I was your backup."

He said I was doing great…I failed him. 

“Shit, kid,” Bane sighed. He knelt down to Crosshair's level. From this close, Bane’s pupiless eyes, while still unrelenting blood red pools, were far from emotionless. “You saw me outnumbered and you wanted to help, I get that, but Skatter’s ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle on my own. Besides, this ain’t your fight.”

“This isn’t your fight,” Tech said, dabbing the cut over his own eyebrow with a bacta swab. 

“Your fight is always my fight,” Crosshair said, pulling out a bandage from the first aid kit.

“I have other goggles.”

“But you liked those goggles,” Crosshair insisted, swatting Tech’s hand away from the bandage. “The black straps are softer than the brown and don’t make your head itch.”

“True.” Tech sighed. He remained still while Crosshair fitted the bandage carefully over the cut. “But this is not a fight you can win. These Regs are older and bigger than us. You are as outnumbered as you are out-skilled.”

“I don’t need to win the fight, Tech,” Crosshair shrugged, standing up. “I just need to get your goggles back.”

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” Tech asked.

Crosshair gave an answer in the form of a snarky salute as he walked backwards out the door.

A half-hour later, Crosshair came back with a bloody grin, Tech’s goggles, and a Reg’s lunchbox filled with Tech’s favorite candy.

“Are those caramel Starsbars? Where did you get them?” Tech asked. He ripped the brown-band goggles off his head and fit his beloved black-band goggles on with a relieved sigh.

“I found them,” Crosshair lied. 

“I find your answer vague…and amusing. Thank you.”

Crosshair was about to say “shut up” like he usually did when his brothers gave him gratitude, but he was cut off by Tech lunging at him, wrapping his arms around Crosshair’s neck.

Crosshair and Tech were often mistaken for twins being close to the same size and stature. Technically, Tech was born second, then Wrecker, then Crosshair. Still, when Tech hugged him, it felt like those moments when Crosshair would hug himself, especially during the scarier lightning storms rattling the windows above his bunk. It may be incorrect, but...Tech was as closest thing to a twin Crosshair had. It was a comfort.

“You can still tell me to shut up if you want,” Tech said, as if knowing what Crosshair was thinking.

Crosshair smirked and hugged his brother back. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Your fight is my fight,” Crosshair said, folding his arms. A charging reek couldn’t move him from this position. Maybe he wasn't a badass mercenary, and maybe he only had a ninety-two percent accuracy rate, and maybe this wasn’t a mess hall fight over stolen goggles, but Crosshair was here for Bane regardless. Loyalty was loyalty, and he wasn’t going to leave one of his own behind.

Bane’s brow ridge furrowed, but it didn’t seem like a frown. “You got some real bent loyalty, if you’re willin’ to defend a bastard like me, but…” he stood up and folded his arms thoughtfully. “...maybe we can make this a real teachin’ moment. How about it, kiddo? Wanna kill some bad guys?”

Crosshair couldn't remember a time he smiled this big. It wasn't close to a Wrecker-sized smile, but it was bright for a storm cloud like him.

“Hell yess,” he hissed, excitedly. 

When Bane smiled it wasn't exactly made of sunshine, either but there was less snark to it than usual. "Atta boy. Now go get Todo. We got a lotta work to do."

[oceanspray5]

Perfectly Incandescently Happy

Dearest Gentlereader,

The subject that has set the ton abuzz and everyone bereft of answers may soon be coming to its conclusion yet. Naturally, I would hate to have to print any retraction however, it seems this writer, too, may have to reconsider concerning one of the more astonishing matches this season: the one between Viscount Anthony Lockwood and Ms Lucy Carlyle.

But did our handsome Lord Lockwood finally open his eyes to exactly all he had to lose at the Finchley Ball? Certainly, there can be no other reason for his interference with one of Ms Francesca Bridgerton's potential suitors. Paired with his early calling at Viscount Bridgerton's house two days after and ecstatic exit, perhaps wedding bells may be in Lord Lockwood's future after all... just not with the surely broken-hearted Ms Carlyle.

After the death of her best friend, Ms Lucy Carlyle is given the opportunity to be sponsored for the 1815 London season by Norrie's aunt. Instantly compared to the Diamond due to their astonishingly similar looks, she befriends Lord Lockwood quite unexpectedly yet is left wondering if she was a fool for believing he'd look twice at a mere country girl.

This fic has been the bane of my existence for more than a month now. To be honest I'm quite exhausted of it so I can't guarantee when I'll update. The chapters are all done but I do need to majorly rearrange them and I'm not sure when that'll be based on when I feel up to editing. I just wanted to get the first chapter out asap to hopefully distract people from the sadness and remind us all we can still fight. We're not giving up just yet and I've included more info in the notes of my fic about what we're trying to do across platforms to get L&C moved to another streamer!

Btw you do NOT need any extra info on Bridgerton to read this fic. I'll include what's important otherwise you'll be able to follow along perfectly!

If you enjoy this at all PLEASE leave me a comment so I know what I've written isn't awful and was worth fighting the wooziness to post.

[shinyasahalo]

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[thelightofthebane]

through the good and bad and all in between

Summary: Magnus was born a warlock. Magnus became a mundane for love and by self-sacrificing tendencies. Magnus turned into a vampire after an act of spite and revenge.

A story about survival, new identities, love through adversities, and accepting changes.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e17 Heavenly Fire, Vampire Magnus Bane, Turned without consent, Major Character Undeath, Immortal to Mortal to Immortal, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Boyfriend Alec Lightwood, Soft Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Cat & Alec friendship, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending

Rating: E

Chapters: 10

Words: Around 23k~

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2023: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

You can read it on AO3 or the eighth chapter below ~

Chapter 8 - You taught me to live each day like it's my last

“Are you really a vampire now?”

“I am.”

“And you only drink blood now?”

“I do.”

“And no magic? No more extra chocolate sprinkles?”

“No magic. But I can still give you extra chocolate sprinkles. In secret, or else Uncle Alec will punish us with a lot of tickles.”

Madzie giggled.

Children were so simple. In the best of ways. Although it hurt admitting some harsh truths out loud - like not being able to use magic anymore -, it was nice doing it only to fulfill an honest curiosity, full of wonder and awe.

Magnus wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous at finally meeting Madzie again, but he missed his goddaughter too much to keep pushing back a visit. Since the successful mission against Camille three weeks before, Magnus was making more visits to the New York Institute - and New York overall. He was slowly trying to get used to the city again with his new senses and also going to the Hotel DuMort to talk to the clan.

If he was also using the opportunity to keep an eye on his very, very stubborn fiancé who was still healing from the mission, well, nobody but him needed to know that.

“Are you okay with this new me, Sweet Pea?”

“I am.”

See? Simple.

“I like your fangs. They are cool. Much cooler than Uncle Simon’s.” Then, as if telling him a secret, she lowered her voice and came closer to him. “But don’t tell him that. Or he will have puppy ears.”

“Puppy ears?”

“It’s puppy eyes, kiddo.” Cat corrected her after snickering.

Madzie shrugged, then went back to play with her dolls in what seemed to be an imaginary tea party.

Magnus, who was drinking a special blend of blood tea, turned to Cat then.

“I know that I shouldn’t be surprised, but she took this change better than I anticipated.”

Catarina took a sip of her own actual tea, not bothering to hide a grin afterward.

"Your little brood of Shadowhunters plus Simon took it upon themselves to play with Madzie and distract her while her Uncle Magnus was away. But she spent more time with Simon. Alec’s idea. This way she could get more used to vampires and not feel uncomfortable when visiting your future clan."

Alexander…

“Anyway, vampire or not, that boy was a perfect babysitter. He talked so much, that even Madzie got tired. She never napped so quickly in all the time she has been with me.”

Usually, Magnus would make a teasing comment about that, but his mind was still processing what Cat told him about Alec’s idea.

"Cat, how the hell did someone like him choose me? If we weren’t already engaged, I’d barge into the Institute right now and ask him to marry me."

"Magnus Bane finally settling, huh? In all the centuries that I know you, you never mentioned wedding bells, not even with the demon."

Magnus chuckles. Everyone around him stopped saying her name - not out of fear, but because they believed it could erase her from their memories sooner than later.

"Alec makes me dream about things that I've given up a long time ago, Cat."

Marriage. Family. Children.

"I want everything with him."

“I’d say you’re already halfway there.” His friend wiggled her eyebrows, jutting her chin towards the ring he was wearing.

His real engagement ring. A couple of days after Alec was discharged from the infirmary, he received a message from the warlock jeweler to let him know that the enchanted pair of rings were finished. Even without his powers, Magnus could feel the magic pouring from them - it was very powerful.

He knew Alec had ordered them specifically for Magnus, to keep him safe, but Magnus was glad and relieved to know it went both ways - Alec would also have an extra layer of protection and he would know if the Shadowhunter was in true danger.

“Have you chosen a place to hold the wedding?”

“Not yet. Alexander and I are still discussing all the details. He said he wanted to get involved in the planning this time.” Magnus smiled, then chuckled. “But I called dibs on the decor. I love Alec, but his concept of color is black and different shades of gray.”

The warlock frowned. “I thought you would go with the traditional gold of a Nephilim wedding.”

“No. In another time, we would’ve gone with a mix of Nephilim gold and Warlock blue, but now…” Magnus sighed before putting his teacup away.

Suddenly, Madzie piped in.

“Are you and Uncle Alec marrying like those princes and princesses of fairy tales? Uncle Alec looks like a prince.”

Magnus laughed. “And you’re absolutely right, my love.” He picked her up, and she immediately snuggled with him.

“Auntie Izzy told me I could be a flower girl. Does this mean I’ll wear a dress full of flowers?”

“If you want to wear one, we can arrange that. But being a flower girl means you’ll create a path full of flowers for me and Alec. This way, our marriage will start more colorful, fragrant, and beautiful.”

“I like that.” Magnus could hear the smile on Madzie’s voice, and his heart couldn’t help but melt at that.

“Me too, Sweet Pea. Me too.”

~*~

“Alex reminds me of you,” Magnus commented, earning a deadpan look from Alec.

They were sprawled on the couch, Magnus bracketed by Alec’s legs, his head resting on the Shadowhunter’s chest - the sound of Alec’s beating heart still being Magnus’ biggest source of comfort.

Lately, this was how their date nights went by. A movie or a show, a nice meal, cuddling - or a delicious session of make out - until they fell asleep. It was a good way to keep the nightmares at bay, and gradually Magnus has been feeling more relaxed and settled again.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t share popcorn anymore - Magnus had his own snack soaked in blood.

“Because we both are called Alexander?” Alec drawled.

“That too, but you two are very good with politics, always trying to help others, born leaders, adorably oblivious when it comes to crushes, and have a dangerous public sex kink.”

“I don’t have a public sex kink!”

“Darling, Underhill has to deactivate the training room’s cameras every time we’re there.”

Alec grumbled under his breath, and Magnus snickered.

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s too hard to keep my hands off you, Your Royal Highness.”

This time, Magnus gasped.

Then, they both broke into a fit of giggles.

Alec let go of his popcorn in favor to hold Magnus closer and took the opportunity to nuzzle against the side of the vampire’s head. Magnus closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into that warm feeling so uniquely Alec, and only after a couple of minutes he went back to pay attention to the movie.

It was only when they were in the middle of the second movie, some underrated rom-com, that Magnus noticed how Alec was distracted.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Lydia.”

“Ah, I see. You’re thinking about your ex-fiancée while I’m right here with you.” Magnus teased.

Alec rolled his eyes. “It’s not that. It’s just…” He waved a bit upset to the TV. “I can understand that guy being afraid of coming out, but does he need to treat the guy he loves like that? Like a dirty secret?”

“Sometimes you don’t have a choice if you want to be with the one you love the most,” Magnus whispers, and there is an underlining of a past experience there.

Alec sighed. “As much as I hate how I treated you in the past when we first met, I think it was better than treating you as someone who should be hidden. No one should, but especially not you, Magnus. You are too big to conceal. If someone did that, they were a major asshole and didn’t deserve you. People should be proud to show you off, not hide you.”

Magnus looked surprised at Alec who was still fuming and cursing the main character of the movie.

“Even when I lost everything and was a mere mundane, you never minded, did you?”

“Of course not. I love you. All of you. And I accept any version you choose to be.”

“And if I became like one of those villains from superhero movies?”

Alec shrugged. “Some villains are hot.”

Magnus fully grinned by then.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe I am. But that’s okay. I got you.”

I will always get you.

They stayed in silence for some more time, until Magnus broke it.

“Alexander?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m ready to move back to New York.”

[merv606]

In Mercy is a Sharp Knife, does Terry eventually wanna put a ring on it? Wife Danny boy up? The man has goals after all! And the thought of Terry dressing Daniel up in clothes he’s picked out, perhaps tailored for him, and having a private and fancy dinner is giving me Beauty and the Beast vibes. If only Daniel would allow himself to be swept up for a dance in a lavish ballroom under the stars…lmao. Love your fic, thanks for writing!!! Also looking forward to A Seduction, Terry is so insane in that and I love it, good for him 💜

Terry wants Daniel in any way shape or form he can and in every way shape or form he can 😉

But yes - he wants his ring on Daniel’s finger - he wants Daniel tied to him legally.

Funny you should mention Beauty and the beast - I have a line:

It doesn’t help he’s in a red, deep, like the colour of sin - his boy looks so ravishing in red.

And now all I can hear is the wardrobe telling Belle, “you’ll look ravishing in this one.”

And thanks so much 🥰

Sugar Daddy Terry - even though that story has become the bane of my existence - has a special place in my heart.

[only-freaking-sunflowers]

BELLE I BE MEAN AND WANT ALL OF THEM DON'T MAKE ME CHOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSE

(but if I have to go put words in You Give Me Butterflies because THOSE GIRLS)

No no, I will give The Bandit what he wants, here's a piece from all the pies:

Shared Walls:

"These walls are thin, I hear it all.”

“Yeah? You hear everything scandalous I’ve got going on in there?”

“You talk to the TV a lot, am I right?”

Girls will be girls, too.

Being Shelly:

“I called you here to give you answers, cause you deserve them.”

“Yeah, I do. And I’m not zooming through time and space again till I have them.”

Erica grins. “It’s kinda crazy, right? Time travel. The novelty of it just doesn’t wear off.”

Untitled: (aka the Luke and Anna fic)

Anna can’t help but laugh, she doesn’t even know why. Luke’s eyebrows crinkle, forming a canyon in between them; he actually looks concerned for her.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not you,” she tells him, waving her hands. They need to stop moving.  “I don’t know how to date. I don’t know what I’m doing here…”

Soft Place to Land:

Anna doesn’t shy away from her touch. She never has; it’d be useless to start now. She inhales a deep sigh.

“Nervous?” Agatha asks her. 

“No,” she answers, but she doesn’t sound sure. “It’s more, like, you remember how you felt before a recital? That anticipatory march in your chest? Like anxiety, but not all bad?”

And finally, the bane of my existence, You Give Me Butterflies:

Ash waves that off and she opens the bag of pretzels. “What’s in the cups?”

“One’s pink Crush and one’s Dr. Pepper.”

“Ooh, can I have the Crush?” 

Ev smiles. “Of course you can, cause you’re my crush!” 

She giggles and puckers her lips. Ash takes a sip of the pink sugary drink and gives her a cream soda flavoured peck.

[fandomficticn]

upcoming fan fictions

so the fan fictions won out for my upcoming works!

now drug/eternal fans do not fret because I will still be continuing and finishing that fic. will I be writing simultaneously? you would be correct!

now, what shall be voted on today is which of my fan fics will I be writing along side of the eternals fan, "the last hope". below will be the summary of each fic and just like before, you all get to vote on which one I will be posting. whichever becomes the top vote will be the next fanfic to be written along side the last hope; the next highest vote will be the next fan fiction and so on.

gonna be honest, most of these I did already start like plotting out!

---

This is Poguelandia ( ofc x jj maybank )

Laurie Dubois was the new kook in town, with secrets that could give everyone a run for their money, but before anything could come to light, she ended up going missing. Four years later, Laurie is caught on camera, alive and well, and the hunt is on to find her. The Pogues could be the ones to find Laurie and be split the reward money and while that is enticing to JJ Maybank, he has a secret connection to the missing girl and knows there's more than meets the eye when it comes to why she went missing all those years ago.

Mr. and Mrs. Xu ( ofc x mafia!shang-chi )

Sara and Shaun come from opposing crimes families, both well-versed in undercover work. Both were sent on jobs in the States when they meet, not knowing the other's true identity. Now, years later after being married and having their daughter, the Xu's are living their secret lives while working for their families until one night changes and jeopardizes everything Sara and Shaun worked so hard to protect.

The Big Fix ( ofc x modern!anthony bridgerton )

It had been years since Anthony Bridgerton and Auralia Bell haven't been in the same room since they broke up their junior year of college. Now, almost ten years later, Auralia is the top performer at The Avalon Group, the top pr firm catering to London's finest. To get the promotion of her dreams, she is tasked with her biggest contract yet: fix Anthony Bridgerton's reputation. Auralia has to out her emotions aside and be the professional she knows she is, not thinking about the feelings that are clearly still there.

The Guardians ( ofc x ben miller )

Ben Miller is the happiest man he's ever been; his winning big with boxing with his brother and friends by his side and he's with the woman of his dreams. One day, everything gets turned upside down when she goes missing with nothing but a distress call from the other side of the world giving any insight. Now, the boys must band together for one more mission in the search of her before it's too late.

Fool's Gold ( ofc x nathan drake ; ofc x victor sullivan )

Victor Sullivan comes to Nathan Drake for a hunt of a lifetime, a hunt that he couldn't refuse. When the hunt takes them on the most dangerous path they've ever been on, up against bigger enemies than they've faced before, Nathan Drake has to decide if what's at the end is ultimately worth his life.

The Legend of Leon Winter ( ofc x simon lewis )

Leon Winter is well-known amongst the downworlders, Magnus Bane himself knew the warlock personally. Due to horrendous crimes committed by him, Leon Winters is locked away and never to be seen or heard from again. Until today. Somehow, someway, the powerful dark warlock has been freed and hell on earth is quite literally about to rain down. The only ticket to his demise is his illegitimate and unknown daughter, Cherish. No one ever knew she was his daughter nor how she could be the one to bring him down but everyone is in a race against the clock to get to her and end this once and for all.

Chrysós ( ofc x rafe cameron )

A new treasure hunt is on the horizon but this could be more dangerous than what the Pogues have already experienced. Blackbeard's treasure is the world's most hard to find bounty in the world but the Pogues are confident they can find it like they've found their last find. They must band together with Rafe Cameron and Barry when it comes to light they know the one person that has the edge to finding this treasure. OFC knows that Blackbeard had many wives and therefore many chances for descendants and she knows one of them. Could this descendant be their ticket to fame and fortune or lead to their downfall?

Don't Panic ( ofc x dodge mason )

The new season of panic is on the books and everyone's eyes are on the prize money, that being their one way ticket out of their small town. Dodge Mason knows what the money could do for his family but what take him by surprise is his old friend, Sherrie Edge, joins the game after she used to tell him that there was nothing wrong with staying in a small town. The two ex-friends are now in competition with other's in their class; the dangers are high, the secrets are big, and someone is not who they say they are...

Shimmer ( ofc x eddie munson )

Monica Nguyen usually kept to herself, little to no friends despite being on the Hawkins swim team, until a freak accident changed her and put her on the “hawkins hotties” map. Being thrust into the spotlight after being in the shadows for so long can be overwhelming but a certain long-haired dungeon master can make the obnoxious sounds of popularity die down. When outside forces come knocking on Hawkins door in search for the result of their "experiment" and the Hawkins Monster Hunting Club must band together to protect their new friend by any means necessary.

[ihatedtoadmit]

(Un)requited love

pairing: Lee Know x gn! reader

genre: angst, fluff (sprinkled in)

warnings: lack of communication, blood

word count: ~2.5k

summary: Emotions are your bane of existence, more than you'd think.

a/n: I know I said I'd post this sooner, but my mind was holding me prisoner. I apologise. Either way, I hope you enjoy this and the pictures I've chosen. I'm trying to make my fics prettier, so feedback is always welcomed. I also do have a general taglist, just write to me if you're interested. That's all, happy reading!

A Guide to the AU, in case you are unfamiliar with it (it does spoil the surprise though).

↳ Main Masterlist

All rights reserved. Please do not steal, repost or feed my work into AI. Thank you!

It started out small, a nearly unnoticeable feeling budding inside my chest, rooting itself there as if to make sure I would never be able to get rid of it. But how could I, when the cause of it was so alluringly sweet, irresistible no matter what I’d done? When the mere sight of his sparkling eyes brought a small smile to my lips, when the cheerful sound of his laughter sounded like gentle bell chimes ringing in the wind? How would I ever be able to let these wilt, to let my world become grey and monotone?

It had taken me weeks to realise the effect he had on me, too late to do anything by then. His presence itself brought me joy, taking every chance I could to spend by his side as a silent spectator. I was content with watching him fool around with the others, nor did I mind being dragged into all kinds of silly adventures, his happiness my own one in and of itself. I never minded it, how he joked around with Hyunjin, or how he clung to Jisung, or the softness that lingered in his eyes whenever he looked at any of the boys he called family.

None of that mattered, not even the specially crafted closeness he shared with each member, carefully reserved for every single one of them. Something I couldn’t achieve, no matter how long I’d known him. There was always a certain gap between him and me, something I could feel and never leap over. Thus, we were only ever good friends, and nothing more.

I was truly fine with it all, until our nearly daily meetings turned into weekly, the chat log we shared turning silent and cold. It was as if that gap that had been placed between us grew in size, devouring everything and turning into a chasm of hopelessness. At first, I thought I could still patch it up, at the very least bring it back to its smaller size.

But I couldn’t.

With each passing day and with each ignored message, I could feel the roots expanding inside my chest, dangerously squeezing the organs together. It was as if tiny needles were wedged between each miniscule cell, agony coursing through my veins. And yet… I ignored and pushed the numbing feeling to the back of my mind. It was nothing after all, nothing of importance.

My phone buzzed, my tired legs taking me to the device from the bathroom quickly.

It was Chan.

The man had a heart made out of gold, becoming a good friend of mine over these short months. Even after Minho’d started to ignore me, Chan never failed to check in on me regularly, never missing a week. His gesture caused a bittersweet feeling to linger in my chest. It was as if he was sensing what was happening.

I quickly replied to his message, telling him I was fine. He didn’t hesitate to respond, although his next question caused me to do a double-take.

‘Are you free this friday?’ the message read, causing my eyes to furrow in deep thought. I had no plans for that day so far, yet the mere thought of meeting the person who’d been ghosting me left a bitter taste in my mouth. Minho never told me why he was acting cold so suddenly, leading my anxiety-filled brain down a rabbit hole of despair.

Despite all that, my fingers typed out an affirmative reply, as if they had a mind of their own. I could only watch Chan’s enthusiastic reply with an empty gaze, a heavy sigh leaving me after I’d locked my phone and gently threw it back onto my bed, plopping right next to it face down.

I was so tired.

Tired of these questions circling in my head, tired of this taste in my mouth, tired of life’s unfairness.

I was so tired of it all.

-.-.-

The days went by relatively quickly, Friday arriving at my doorstep at last. It wasn’t hard to choose what to wear for this little get-together as I’ve long grown comfortable with the presence of the idols, knowing fully well they didn’t mind if I wore simple clothes in their midst. Looking my image over one more time, I swiped at my lips, catching the last bit of that rosy colour and washing it down the drain. It would be fine, I kept telling myself, a deep breath rattling my ribcage like a trapped little bird.

The ride over to their place was quick and silent. The driver they’d sent over never really initiated any small talk. It was something I was usually grateful for, yet maybe this once it would have distracted my troubled thoughts for just a bit.

Having been at their place countless times now, my body automatically knew the directions it had to take, their door soon appearing in my vision. I could hear their loud voices from where I stood, yet their playful tone told me there was no argument between them, mere playful teasing.

Two gentle knocks broke the boisterous atmosphere, their voices quieting down before hasteful footsteps could be heard.

Felix opened the door for me, his bright smile only widening once he’d laid eyes on me.

“Hey, I missed you so much! I’m so glad you’re here, we were just discussing what to play!” - he excitedly rambled out, arms not even hesitating to tightly wrap themselves around me.

I replied back to him, a hand softly patting his hair as he buried his head into the crook of my neck. I let him stay there until he was satisfied, knowing fully well how much the idol loved skinship.

“Yah, Lixie, stop hogging my bestie!” - a familiar voice shouted from inside, soon followed by a few thuds before I was ripped out of Felix’s arms, now trapped in someone else’s hold. “I wasn’t doing that, what the fuck mate!” - Felix countered, yet it was as if the male who had me in his hold didn’t even hear him. “I missed you soooooo much. Now, let’s go to the others.” - Changbin muttered out, voice muffled by my clothes as he’d pressed himself impossibly close to me.

I didn’t even have a choice in the matter as he’d lifted me up, carrying me away to where I assumed the others were, all the while Felix was whining at how unfair it was to him. The rapper just scoffed and argued back, never loosening his hold on me. He only let go once we were in their living room – a small wave sent towards the other members – , gently plopping me down on the sofa. And then he proceeded to plant himself into my lap, something that only created a smaller argument as not only Felix, but a few others wanted to have me sit by them. Or on them. You get the point.

And as they were playfully arguing around me, I couldn’t help but erupt in laughter, the situation utterly ridiculous-looking.

“What? What’s so funny?” - Chan asked, who was also part of this laughable scene.

The others joined in with their own questions, only making me laugh harder and harder, to the point of nearly falling out of Changbin’s hold onto the floor.

“I think you should all just sit down onto your asses, before you kill our friend here with your stupid questions.” - Seungmin stated, earning a few not so kind comments in return.

Despite that, they did as they were told, settling down and letting me calm down as well.

It was utterly absurd, yet their actions helped calm my nerves and loosen my stiff form. They didn’t even know how much they were helping me, how they continued soothing my burning lungs and scratchy throat. I leaned into Changbin, letting him wind his arms around me, securing me in place as we all settled on what to play. They chose Mario Kart, because of course they had to play that again, despite having played that countless hours already with little to no change to the end results.

Hours went by, the atmosphere around us bright and joyous, but still…

There was one person missing this entire time, his presence not there to light up the place. I was stupidly afraid to ask where he was, not wishing to know the answer. Because why else would Minho not be here, other than to avoid me? Why else would he miss out on a relaxing time with his group when no one else was working, but to not see my face?

My lungs painfully squeezed together, each breath turning smaller and smaller, rattling so loudly in the damaged cavity that I was afraid the others would hear it. Each inhale of air was agonising, the roots painfully making their presence known, while each exhale nearly forced me to cough, the taste of iron and copper growing more and more obvious in my mouth.

It was growing more and more apparent that I had to hide away and fast, my hands slightly shaking as I pried away the ones that held me in place. At their questioning glances, I uttered out the goal of my hastiness, urging them to not pause the movie for my sake.

I didn’t wait around for their answer, long strides taking me towards their bathroom, the door closing behind me with an audible click. I tried to lock it as well, not wishing to risk them opening it on me amidst my suffering. Although the action was seemingly impossible, a cough clawing its way out of my throat, so violent I was forced to kneel in front of the porcelain bowl, pristine white now stained red.

With each poorly suppressed cough came more drops of the once beautiful colour, petals of pink joining it in a flurry of blushing colours. I didn’t have time to think about the possibilities, the what ifs in case the others had heard me. No, this time around the organism inside my chest was vicious, mercilessly ripping tissue apart with ease. I’d had half a mind to not loudly scream in pain, the inside of my chest and throat hurting and hurting and just hurting so much I couldn’t breathe. With a shaky hand I let go of the bowl – nearly slipping without the much needed support – , determined to get rid of the thing that was blocking the path of the much needed air.

A loud snap could be heard as I yanked at it, an entire stem dangling from my fingertips, all adorned with leaves and flowers. They were small, thankfully not one with thorns, yet they hurt only more.

I couldn’t help but scoff at the stained pink petals as I was heaving for air, quite ironic that they were causing me so much pain, when they symbolised quite the opposite. Or rather, the one who they represented wasn’t there to do so, leaving me to be miserable alone.

The soft call of my name could be heard in the room, shaking me out of my daze as I’d nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of his voice.

Wide, frightened eyes looked up at him, the door wide open with no sign of damage, only a smeared speck of blood near the lock. Our eyes met, his own mirroring my own, although his was tainted with horror. I could merely watch him stand there, chocolate-brown hair stuck to his glistening forehead, clothes clinging to him for dear life. His chest wasn’t moving though, frozen in fear, a feeling that was quick to seep into his whole being, along with mine.

Not even a blink could tear my attention away from him, eyes glued to his lips that opened and closed a few times, seemingly thinking about saying something. I awaited the obvious flurry of questions, the harsh words, the hurt, everything.

Yet, none of that came.

No, Minho merely approached me, actions slow and steady. It was as if he was nearing a wounded animal, the hold on my hand gentle as he pried the stained flower out of my clasp. I merely let him, too exhausted to move at all. Breathing took away all my remaining strength, the simple thought of shaking his hand off sounding too tiresome.

Thus, I watched his every move with rapt attention, drinking in how every touch over my skin was caring as he wiped the blood off, how gently he held my head as he looked for any unseen wounds. His eyes gazed into mine, pools of amber and brown swirling inside, all washed over with worry and pain.

He broke the contact eventually, turning his attention to cleaning the toilet at last. The sound of the flush made my ears ring.

“I’m sorry.” - I muttered out, voice so broken and raspy even I could hardly make out the words.

As if that mattered not to him, Minho turned back towards me, hands gently cradling my face once more.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. This was as much your fault as mine, jagi, if not fully mine.” - he replied with a soft smile, a cough interrupting his serene expression.

He doubled over in pain, my own hands trying to soothe him as I stroked his back, wishing to grant him comfort, despite everything. Every cough sounded pained and strained, awfully familiar as my own chest tightened in recognition.

“I… I’d be quite a hypocrite if I didn’t apologise as well.” - he wheezed out, holding up something horrifyingly familiar.

It was a vermillion-coated pink petal, yet the smears weren’t able to hide the black spots scattered all over its surface. The thought of him suffering the same fate I’d been never occurred to me, the idea of him falling in love with me so deeply only sounded like a bad joke at best.

“I’m sorry as well, so don’t cry, please?” - his question was so sincere as he looked up at me, shaky hand placed back onto my tear-stained cheek.

The crystal droplets I didn’t even realise I had just kept flowing, seemingly running from an endless pool. It didn’t matter that he tried to wipe them away, their numbers were endless. So, he settled for a simple caress of the skin, urging me to subconsciously lean into his hold. My own shaky hand found his, settling on top, wishing to drink in his warm presence as much as I could.

“There’re so many things I need to, want to tell you, but… I love you. I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t remember how life was without you in it.”

His eyes glistened with his confession, the truth mirrored in his own glistening tears as they raced down his flushed skin. It was my turn to wipe them away, a gentle smile painted onto my lips as the words he’d uttered started settling into my soul, leaving their permanent mark.

“I love you too, Minho, my silly muse of life.”

Taglist: @michelle4eve @atinyniki

[malec-ao3feed]

Carol of the Bells: A Winter-Themed Drabble Collection

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IlzJVye by thegirlofthorns Drabbles about various Shadowhunter couples, friends, and families, written just in time for the holidays. Words: 6950, Chapters: 15/16, Language: English Series: Part 5 of Holiday/Seasonal Fics Fandoms: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Alastair Carstairs, Thomas Lightwood, Tessa Gray, Will Herondale, James Herondale, Sophie Collins, Gideon Lightwood, Clary Fray, Jace Wayland, Ragnor Fell, Catarina Loss, Grace Blackthorn, Christopher Lightwood, Matthew Fairchild, Lucie Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs, Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Tessa Gray/Will Herondale, Tessa Gray & James Herondale & Lucie Herondale & Will Herondale, Sophie Collins/Gideon Lightwood, Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Ragnor Fell/Catarina Loss, Grace Blackthorn/Christopher Lightwood, Matthew Fairchild & James Herondale & Christopher Lightwood & Thomas Lghtwood, Alastair Carstairs & Lucie Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Additional Tags: One Shot Collection, Drabble Collection, Winter, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, Christmas Decorations, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, short prompts read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/IlzJVye

[viking-raider]

The Belle and the Bane - Chapter II

Summary: Living with the Bane is turbulent, at best. But, you do your best to weather the storm of his moods.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,916

Warnings: PG-13 - Fantasy!AU, Dark!AU, Bane!Henry, Dark!Henry, Belle!Reader, Healer!Reader, Curses, Language, Angst, Light Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Very Minor Character Death, Multiple Personalities(?), Possessive/Controlling Behavior

Inspiration: My warped version of Beauty and the Beast.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long! Muse was spazzing from this fic to that fic and this idea to that idea. You know how it goes! Forever and always, thank you to the amazing @wondersofdreaming​ for being my beta, brainstorm partner and encouraging me! Tell me what you think!

You woke that morning with the bright sunlight streaming into your room, as Damien threw the curtains over your windows open, letting the new day stream in, brightening the remaining darkness out of the corners of your room.

“Good morning, Ms.” He grinned at you, standing at the foot of your bed.

“Morning.” You yawned back, sitting up.

“I have breakfast ready for you.” He said, motioning to the table in the corner of your room, by one of the windows. “Also, I have some clothing coming in for you, later this morning. It's not your full wardrobe, but it's a start.” He smiled, sounding happy and chipper.

“Thank you, Damien.” You smiled at him, getting out of bed and pulled on your robe, sitting at the table and looking over your breakfast.

Nodding his head, Damien exited your room and traveled down to Henry's room, finding his master in a similar position you were, but instead of his room being bright with the morning sun, shining off the calm waves of the ocean. Henry's room was nearly pitch black, minus the raging fireplace and a few candles in large candelabras.

“Morning, Sir.” Damien said softly, nodding his head at Henry. “I hope you slept well.”

Henry took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, taking a gulp of his tea. “As usual, Damien.” He sighed. “Other than that girl you went behind my back and allowed here.” He added, with a lifted brow.

“I simply thought that some companionship would do you some good, Henry.” Damien replied, daring to use his master's first name. “Other than myself.” He added, as Henry opened his mouth.

“What companionship can she give me, Damien?” Henry asked, setting his teacup down and rubbed at his tired face. “Other than physical.” He added with a huff.

“Perhaps you should try and find out.” He replied, making Henry's messy bed. “She loves to read! She's almost completely read 'Great Expectations' and she's only been here a day. I know how much you like to read.” He explained, smiling over at him, his eyes glittering.

“I haven't read a book, in a long time.” Henry countered, his blue eyes darkening at his servant.

“Maybe.” Damien grinned, unbothered. “She can read to you.”

“I don't need to be read too. I can read on my own.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes. “I'm not some invalid.” He growled, his body tensing.

“Of course not. It was only a suggestion, she has a sweet voice, was all I meant.” Damien replied, softly. “Give her a week, Henry. If you don't find her presence wanting by then, I'll send her back home to her father.”

The muscles of Henry's jaw flexed as he contained his fluctuating emotions. “Fine.” He huffed, angrily, then winced at the loud sounding of the door bell. “Who could this possibly be!” He barked, looking at Damien.

“I had a bit of a wardrobe made up for her.” Damien replied, finishing Henry's bed. “She only came with what she was wearing, and I'm sure that wouldn't have met your meticulous standards.”

“Spending my money on her, Damien.”

“Would you rather her look a peasant, or be nude?” Damien countered, lifting a brow at Henry.

Henry sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his back on him and staring at the dancing flame of the candle on his table. Damien half smirked at Henry, and left his room, going down the stairs to the third ringing of the door bell, and pulled it open, greeting the visitors. There were two men, holding several boxes, swinging the door open wide, Damien allowed them to enter the castle and showed them up the stairs to your room. You stood as your door opened and Damien entered with the two men, directing them where to put the boxes, then shooed them out.

“Your new clothing.” He grinned at you, pulling open the boxes and removing several articles, laying them out on your bed. “I do hope you like them. I wasn't sure what colors you would like, so I tried to keep them as neutral as possible.” He explained, pulling out more and more things from the boxes.

You stood beside him as he laid them out, surprised by the expensive quality of the fabrics and their current fashion. They were all so beautiful, you had never seen anything like them. Looking them over, you picked out the outfit you wished to wear for the day, and Damien put the rest in the empty walk-in closet. He smiled as he watched you stand in the full length mirror in the corner of the room, looking at yourself from every side and playing with the flow of the fabric of the dress you wore.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, standing behind you with a smile.

“Thank you.” You smiled back, your cheeks warm.

Henry groaned, stepping out onto his balcony, needing a breath of fresh air, when he saw a shadow move in the neglected garden below. Frowning, he leaned forward on the oxidized railing of his balcony for a closer look. He saw the shadow again, before you rounded an overgrown hedge, your fingers lightly touching the leaves. He watched you as you explored the ruined garden maze he had played in as a child, with his brothers. Biting his lip, Henry turned and went back into his room, throwing open his bedroom door and storming down the stairs, to the back garden.

“Christ.” You gasped, running straight into Henry, like he was a brick wall. “You nearly scared the life out of me.” You panted.

Henry grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you away from him. “What are you doing out here?” He demanded, glaring down at you.

“Enjoying some fresh air and sunlight.” You replied, staring up at him, your heart pounding. “Is there an issue with that, like wandering around the house at night?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

His hands squeezed your arms, before letting go of you as you gasped, realizing he had been hurting you. “No.” He gulped, relaxing. “But, you do need to be careful, if you turn the wrong direction, you'll end up stepping off the cliff.”

“Why would you design a garden to do that?” You asked, frowning up at him.

“It wasn't.” Henry replied, looking over the cracked and overgrown path you stood on. “There was a very bad storm, several years ago, and part of the cliff gave way, taking the back portion of the garden and a gazebo with it.” He explained to you, brushing his wind blown curls out of his face, then turned away from you, disappearing around a corner.

Blinking a couple of times, you followed after him, turning two corners, before you found him again, standing several feet away from the edge. Henry smiled at you over his shoulder, shocking you with the transformation it gave him, both physically and emotionally, he felt less threatening and harsh. You moved to stand next to him, a rush of strong ocean wind blowing against you so much, you felt the, surprisingly, gentle touch of Henry's hand rest on your back, keeping you steady as you both stood there.

“Damien said you've almost finished reading the Great Expectations.” Henry said, after a long pause of silence.

“I have.” You nodded, biting the corner of your lip. “Charles Dickens is one of my favorite authors.” You confessed to him.

“Mine as well.” Henry chuckled, looking down at you. “I've thoroughly enjoyed 'The Old Curiosity Shop'. I've read it numerous times.” He explained to you, looking out over the ocean. “But, it's been some time since I've read anything, but a financial or business report.”

“Why is that?” You asked, glancing up at him, a soft frown on your face.

“Because, life gets in the way.” He replied, his face hardening. “You should go back inside.” He said, moving his hand from the small of your back to your shoulder; turning you away from the cliff. “It's getting much too cold for you out here.”

“And you?” You replied, lifting a brow at him.

“I'll be fine.” Henry answered, in a short tone. “Go.” He barked, pointing back to the house.

Biting your lip, you nodded your head to him and wound your way back through the garden maze, finding your way back through the open veranda doors. You only whiled away most of the morning, before boredom took you, unaccustomed to just sitting around all day. So, you pulled on a coat and went downstairs, you could hear Henry and Damien's voices through the closed study door as you showed yourself out, going back down to the village to check on your father and see if any of the villagers needed you.

“Where have you gone?” Damien asked, appearing in your doorway as you removed your coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “I came to bring you your lunch, and you were gone.”

“I went down to the village.” You replied, turning to him. “To check on my father, and one of the young wives down there was in the middle of giving birth, so I helped her.” You explained to him, unapologetic for leaving the castle without notice, you weren't their prisoner, and refused to be treated as one.

“Mr. Cavill is quite unhappy about it.” Damien replied, pressing his lips together.

“I'm sure, Mr. Cavill can get over it.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. “He is a grown man, is he not?”

Damien narrowed his eyes at you and took a deep breath. “Well, be it as it may. If you're to leave the castle, please inform me, or I'm bound to worry you've fallen off a cliff or something.”

“I will.” You told him, your voice tight. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“That's a question I should be asking you.” He countered, a soft smirk tugging on his lip.

“No, I don't need anything from you, Damien.” You sighed, you really just wanted to soak in a hot tub of water, your back aching from bending over as you helped birth the young woman's babe into the world.

“There's nothing you can do for me, either.” He replied, nodding his head. “Yet.” He added, softly, turning and showing himself out of your room.

Sighing and rubbing at your face, you turned towards the bathroom door, stripping off your clothing as you went. You melted into the hot water, up to your neck, eyes falling shut as it slowly eased away your aches and pains, taking your worries and stress away with it.

“If I were to be stuck here for the rest of my life, the only thing I would get used to, is this glorious hot water.” You mumbled yourself, drifting off.

You were awoken in the middle of the night, shaken by your shoulders and the frantic calling of your name. You batted your hands at the ones holding and shaking you, whimpering as you were drawn out from your peaceful slumber.

“What?” You rasped, in a sleepy voice. “What!” You barked, jerking up in bed. “Damien, what in the world! You're acting as if the house is on fire.” You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face.

“It's not, is it?” You added, face snapping to your open bedroom door.

“No, no! The house is intact.” He assured you, no less frantic and antsy.

“Then, what is the rush?”

“It's Henry, he's terribly unwell, and you are a healer, are you not?” He asked in a jumble of words.

“I am.” You nodded, frowning and throwing back your blankets. “What is wrong with him?” You asked, getting out of bed and taking your robe as Damien held it out to you.

“I'm unsure, I went to check on him in his study, he always works very late.” He explained, leading the way down the hall. “He was quite pale, and I'm sure he's thrown up in the bin.”

Your frown deepened with every description Damien gave you of Henry's ailment, your brain shuffling through dozens of different possible illnesses based on them. When you and Damien finally reached the ground floor study Henry spent a great deal of his time in, you found him lying on the sofa, an arm slung over his pale and sweaty face. You knelt down on the rug beside him on the sofa, gently resting your hand on his elbow.

“Henry.” You whispered softly.

“What do you want?” Henry growled, but it sounded more like a pained whimper.

“I've asked her to look you over, Sir.” Damien replied, hovering from the other side of the couch, his face creased with concern and worry. “She's a healer down in the village.” He explained, chewing on his lip.

Henry huffed, but didn't remove his arm. You frowned up at Damien, then stood, going around the couch to whisper in his ear.

“Give me a moment with him.” You said and tilted your head towards the door.

Damien looked between Henry on the couch and the study door, but nodded his head and went out, quietly closing the door behind him. Rounding the couch again, you took up the fire poker and pushed the burning logs apart until they were nothing but glowing embers, then brought the burning candlestick on Henry's desk over to the small end table at Henry's feet on the couch, plunging the study into near darkness.

“You can take your arm away from your face now, Henry.” You whispered softly, kneeling back down beside him. “The light shouldn't bother your eyes so much.” You told him, tilting your head at him, having an idea of what was bothering him.

Henry slowly removed his arm from over his face, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the low light. His handsome face was quite pale, his eyes were red and damp, his curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. He carefully turned his head towards you, narrowing his eyes at you.

“How long have you had migraines?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him.

“Since I suffered that illness.” He replied, gulping thickly. “They're crippling.”

“I can see that.” You replied, glancing over at the waste bin by his desk, where he'd thrown up. “Come on.” You sighed, standing up. “Let's get you off to bed. You need to rest.”

“I have work to do.” Henry protested, slowly sitting up.

“It can wait, Mr. Cavill.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “If you don't rest, you'll end up throwing up more, and probably passing out. Neither is good for your business or your health.” You protested, planting your hands on your hips.

“So, up you go.”

Henry looked up at you, narrowing his eyes at you. Both of you stood there for a long moment, staring each other down, before Henry growled and stood up. Smirking, you moved around the couch, taking up the candlestick and opened his study door. You and Henry went up the stairs to his room, you paused, resting your free hand on his thick arm as he swayed outside his door for a moment. Henry squeezed his throbbing eyes shut, reaching out blindly to open his door.

You set the candlestick aside and guided him to bed, pulling back the blankets and made him sit down, before he fell. Frowning at him, then sighing, you bent down and pulled off his slippers, setting them aside. Henry watched you through half-lidded eyes as you fussed over him, helping him remove his shirt, then piled up his pillows, so he could rest back on them, and covered him with his blankets. Moving away from him, you went into his bathroom, soaking a washcloth in cold water and brought it back to him.

“Put this over your eyes, it'll help some of the discomfort.” You told him, holding the washcloth out to him.

“As you wish.” He smirked, his tone teasing as he pushed his head back and draped the cloth over his eyes with a moan.

“How is your stomach?” You asked him, watching him gulp thickly.

“Like a raging ocean.” He replied, licking his lips and fisting his blankets, then sat up suddenly, his face going pale as a ghost.

You reacted quickly, picking up the bin by his table and thrust it out to him, just in time for him to throw up, wrenching hard. Henry whimpered as the wrenching agitated his throbbing and pulsing skull. He looked so weak and harmless, like a small boy trapped in the body of a man. Sitting on the edge of his bed, you used the damp cloth to wipe at his sweaty face, the scent of vomit was something you had grown used to as a healer. Sighing, you set the now warm cloth on his nightstand, chewing on your bottom lip as you regarded him and thought about something that could relieve the pain of his migraine and the discomfort of his stomach.

“Do you have any willow trees nearby?” You asked, frowning at him, as a solution brewed in your mind.

“Of course, what kind of question is that?” Henry huffed, shaking his head at you, then instantly regretted it. “The whole county is known for them, there's three in the graveyard alone.” He told you, gripping the waste bin, as another wave of nausea hit him.

“Good.” You nodded, getting up. “I'll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Henry demanded, as you rushed out of his room.

“Is Henry all right?” Damien asked, he had been lingering in the hall.

“He's got an acute migraine.” You told him, rushing up to your room to pull on a shawl. “I need to retrieve some things to help lessen his pain and the discomfort of his stomach. But, I'll also need hot water and a tea set.” You told him, pulling on your shawl and grabbed the sharp letter opener on top of your dresser, before running downstairs and out the front door, into the darkness.

You knew where the Bane's family graveyard was, you had to pass the narrow path that led to it on your way up the castle. The air was bitterly cold and windy, pushing off the ocean and mixing with the late autumn night. The spooky shadows of the trees that lined the path to the graveyard were frightening, but you were far too focused to allow yourself to become scared and paranoid about them. It took some doing, in the dark of the quarter moon, but you found one of the willow trees, near an overgrown, dark stone mausoleum, the names of Marianne and Colin Cavill carved on the sealed doors. You removed the sharp letter opener from the inside pocket of your robe and started cutting into the bark of the willow tree, collecting enough to fill one of your robe pockets, then started searching around it roots, running your fingers through the leafy tops of small plants, until you found the second thing you were looking for, mint. You knew you could find it here, it was how the village of Mintwillow had gotten its name, after all.

Pockets full with what you needed, you raced back up to the castle and into Henry's room. Damien had gotten everything you asked for together. You dumped your pockets out on the table beside them and started breaking up the bark into smaller bits with the mint and dumped them into the boiling water of the teapot.

“What is all of that?” Damien asked, looking over your shoulder.

“Willow's bark and mint.” You replied, stirring the concoction. “Do you have any honey?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him. “Willow's bark can be rather bitter, so the sweetness of the honey will help with that, as well as coat his throat, after all the throwing up.”

“Certainly.” He nodded, rushing back down to the kitchen for the honey pot.

“Thank you.” You smiled, pouring some of the tea into a cup, then adding a drizzle of honey into it.

“You can go, Damien.” Henry rasped, his voice now sore from throwing up and wrenching. “I'm sure she can care for me now.” He said, his eyes on you.

Damien looked between you both, then nodded his head, excusing himself. Satisfied with his tea, you carefully brought it to him.

“Sip it slowly.” You told him as he raised it to his lips, then chuckled. “It's not meant to taste good, just to help.”

“It better.” He huffed, taking another sip of it. “Or I'm going to be very angry.”

You smiled at him, unphased by his mood swings. “I've given this tea to many people over the years, and it's never failed me.” You assured him. “But, I should let you rest. Sleep is the third best thing for a migraine like this.” You told him, turning away.

Henry's hand shot out, gripping your wrist and stopping you in your tracks. “Stay.” He said softly, his tired and glassy eyes staring holes into you. “Just for a little while.” He whispered, so quietly, you weren't sure he had said anything.

“Perhaps, you could read to me? It helps me sleep.” He added, glancing at a book sitting on his nightstand.

You swallowed slowly, surprised by his request, as the heat of his hand wrapped around your wrist, pushed out the last of the cold that had settled into you, when you were outside. This was a side of him you hadn’t expected, and you weren’t sure how it made you feel; perhaps conflicted from when you experienced his normally callous mood. Licking your lips, you nodded your head at him and Henry felt relieved that you agreed to stay with him, it gave some deep part of him a great amount of comfort, so he slowly let your wrist go. You grabbed a chair from his table and brought it to the side of his bed, picking up his book and saw it was 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'.

Clearing your throat, you flipped the book open to its marker and started reading at the top of the page. Henry relaxed against his pillows, sipping the rest of the tea you had made him, before setting the empty cup aside and closed his eyes, focusing on the soft and easy rhythm of your voice as you read aloud to him.

Henry woke several long hours later, his head still throbbing, but not as badly as it had been for the last few days. He opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep from them, when he noticed you, book open in your lap, and sound asleep. You had also fallen asleep, while reading to him. Henry smirked and got out of bed, carefully setting the book in your lap aside, and gingerly lifted you into his arms, your head lulling gently against his shoulder as he carried you out of his room.

“Good mo-”

“Sshhh.” Henry shushed Damien, angrily, as he appeared on the stairs. “Don't wake her.” He growled, in an almost protective manner, then tenderly shushed you as you whimpered and shifted restlessly in his arms, hugging you closer to his chest.

“My apologies, sir.” Damien replied demurely, moving out of Henry's way and bowing his head, to hide the smirk on his face as Henry went by.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Henry carried you up to your own room, pushing the door open with his foot and delicately laid you down, your blankets still thrown back from when Damien woke you up to tend to him. He stood above you for a long moment, after covering you up, watching you snuggle and melt into the mattress and pillows, a faint and sweet smile on your lips. But, he quickly turned away as his heart started to pound and his chest hurt, like he'd been punched by a giant.

Leaving you to sleep in your room, Henry returned to his own and felt his head start to throb again.

You woke just before noon and found yourself back in your own bed, figuring Damien had brought you back to bed. Rising and stretching your stiff body from bending over Henry and sitting in a chair all night, you got out of bed and dressed, just as Damien came in, carrying a tray.

“Oh, you're awake!” He grinned, setting the tray on your table, lunch no doubt, since you had slept through breakfast.

“Yes.” You replied, stifling a yawn into your fist as you sat down at the table. “Thank you for bringing me back to my room.” You added, munching on a bit of your food.

“Oh, I didn't.” Damien replied, making your bed. “Henry did.” He explained, seeing your confused expression.

“Henry did?” You replied, slowly setting your teacup down.

“Yes, you fell asleep, while you tended to him and when he woke this morning, he found you sound asleep on a chair.” He explained, fluffing your pillows. “So, he carried you back up here, to bed.” He said it all, like it was the most normal and natural of things.

“Oh.” You gulped, picking your tea back up and taking a large gulp of it. “Is he any better?” You croaked, keeping your eyes on your food.

“He was quite well, until a few hours ago.” Damien frowned, collecting your dirty clothing. “Seems his headache has re-surged.”

“Oh no.” You cooed, frowning over at him, very concerned. “I should check on him at some point today.”

“It could do him some good.” He agreed with you.

After breakfast, you dressed and found Henry hunched over his desk in his study on the ground floor. Even standing out in the hall and peeking through the cracked open study door, you could see the pain Henry was clearly in. He rubbed at his temples at regular intervals as he frowned at the report in his hand, eyes narrowed at the black lettering. Frowning and pressing your lips together, you turned on your heels and went into the kitchen, where Damien had taken the herbs you used the night before to help Henry's migraine.

Finding and filling a kettle, you set it on the stove to boil, preparing the cup of mint and willow's bark, with a drizzle of honey and a splash of milk. Smiling, you set the steaming cup onto a small plate, carefully carrying it down the hall, and into Henry's study.

“What are you doing?” Henry asked, sounding annoyed, as he looked up from the report he had been staring at for nearly an hour.

“Damien said, your migraine returned.” You replied, carefully setting the cup down on a clean corner of his desk. “So, I brewed you another cup to help.” You told him, smiling at him sweetly.

Henry set down his neglected report and stared at the steaming cup of tea, the muscles of his jaw flexing as his mind roiled with a kaleidoscope of thoughts, before huffing and picking his report back up. “You can leave.” He hissed, not looking back at you, with a cold aura rolling off of him.

“Um..” You floundered, then let out a soft sigh and excused yourself from his study.

You made it halfway up the staircase to your room before a wave of tears hit you, no one had been so rude and cold to you as Henry was, and you had encountered some stubborn people in your practice. Taking a moment to get a hold of yourself, you continued upstairs to your room. But, it was an hour or two later that Damien appeared in your doorway with a note in his hand.

“This came from the village for you, Ms.” He said, holding it out to you.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking the note from him and breaking the seal. “Oh no.” You gasped, reading the note.

The note was in your father's own hand, but wrote about one of your patients who suffered from a chronic illness, telling you that he had turned for the worst and you needed to hasten down to the village before it was too late. In a flustered rush, you grabbed your cloak and the bag you kept your herbs in and rushed down to the front door, your heart pounding and mind racing, praying that you made it back to the village in time.

“Where are you going?” Henry's voice boomed, aided by the echo of the vast foyer.

“One of my patients in the village needs me.” You replied, startled and out of breath.

“No.” He snapped, shaking his head, rage burning in his blue eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“What!” You snapped, gobsmacked.

“You heard me.” Henry hissed at you, his body tense. “You aren't to leave this house, unless you have my say.” He told you, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “And you do not. So, go back to your room, this instant.”

You stared at Henry wide eyed, shocked and dumbfounded. How could he refuse to allow you to go down to the village to tend to one of your patients, one so critically ill. Surely, being someone that has lost loved ones to such a crippling illness would understand that need and haste of trying to cure someone with something so life altering. Who did he think he was? Your warden, keeping you in this dark and oppressing castle, cut off from those you loved, with only his hot and cold tempers and Damien the rest of your life.

“No.” You replied, your voice a mixture of stubborn defiance, shock and outlined in fear of what he would do with your disobedience. “He'll die.”

“Then, he can die and you'll have one less obligation.” Henry answered, his voice cold as ice. “Now, do as I told you.”

You gulped, watching him practically grow with his rage and impatience towards you, and your hand still resting on the handle of the front door, gripped it tighter. Henry saw the small action, like a wolf seeing the small twitch of a rabbit's body, readying itself to bolt from the reach of its mighty jaws. You had the door open by the time he took a step towards you and felt the brush of his fingers against the fabric of your cloak as you bolted out the door and into the bright light of the early afternoon sun.

Running several yards, and expecting Henry to catch you at any moment, you realized he wasn't and paused to look back towards the castle. You saw the outline of his tall frame standing just before the threshold of the doorway, unmoving to dash after you and drag you back inside. Henry just stood there, fuming with rage and shaking with something far more complex as he battled to go after you. But, after several long moments, he disappeared, the door slamming shut with an echo.

“Such a strange man.” You panted to yourself, before turning back down the path towards the village, wasting no more time to reach your patient.

“Sir?” Damien frowned, hearing the crash of the front door slamming closed from the other side of the house, and came running to make sure nothing nefarious had occurred.

“Damn that girl!” Henry roared, storming into his study.

“Has something happened to her?” Damien asked, alarmed for your welfare.

“Not yet.” Henry replied, angrily pacing the room. “She's left, after I explicitly told her not too.”

Damien's brow creased for a moment, then it dinged in his mind. “Her note, of course.” He nodded, smiling to himself.

“What note?” Henry growled, stopping his pacing to look at his servant.

“She received a note about twenty minutes ago, from her father.” He explained to his master. “One of her patients suffers from a chronic illness. Her mother cared for him before her death, and she's picked up the patients, in her wake.”

“You read the note?”

“I might have glanced at it.” He replied, smiling softly. “But, the rest of it, she told me herself.” He added, he had grown quite fond of you.

“Why didn't you tell me she received it?” Henry hissed, his lips pressed into an angry line.

“I didn't want to bother you.” Damien gulped, biting the corner of his own lip. “I know you've been very busy lately. Especially after one of the ships go-”

“I want any correspondents she gets, I don't care who they come from!” Henry barked at him. “I'll determine whether or not she'll receive them or not. Do you understand?”

“Of course, sir.” Damien nodded, nervously licking his lips.

“Clear this away.” Henry huffed, waving a hand at the tea cup still on his desk as he sat back down.

“Right away, sir.” He rushed over and picked the empty cup up.

“Close the door.” Henry called as Damien started to leave.

Nodding his head, Damien closed the door behind him and took the cup into the kitchen to be washed. With the door closed, Henry leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingertips to his temples. His migraine had gone away after drinking the last cup of tea you had made him, but now it started to come back, his anger with you disobeying him and leaving the house, and him not going after you, to bring you back.

“Why didn't I bring her back?” He growled at himself, pressing his fingers harder into his temples. “Why couldn't I go after her?” He panted, squeezing his eyes shut against the throbbing pain in his skull.

You sighed as you stepped out of a hut in the village, exhausted from the run to the village and the struggle to help your patient. A warm hand rested on your shoulder and you didn't need to see who it was, before you turned into the warm body it belonged to, enveloped by iron hardened arms that clasped you to an even warmer chest.

“You did your best, little lamb.” Your father's rough voice whispered into your ear, his hot breath warming the cove of your cold nipped ear. “You did your best.”

“Ma would have done better.” You mumbled into his tunic.

He smiled into your hair and brushed it out of your face, before cupping your cheeks in his calloused hands. “Your mother would have done all the same things, little lamb. She taught you well.” He assured you, before gently kissing your forehead. “I should walk back with you, it's getting too dark for you to walk alone.” He said, letting you go.

“I don't want to go back, papa.” You frowned, not willing to let him go. “Please, don't make me go back to him.” You begged, looking up into his eyes. “He's so cold and mean to me.”

“Has he tried to wrong you?” Your father frowned, a flash of anger in his eyes.

“No. Thankfully. But, all I do is sit in my room and read or stare out the window. The only person I have to talk to, other than myself, is his servant, Damien, who is a very sweet and attentive person, it's just..” You paused, your chin dropping to your chest as tears started to overwhelm you.

“It's lonely.” You sniffled.

“I know how you feel, my sweet.” He sighed, huddling you back up into his arms. “It's lonely for me as well. But, things will get better, he'll warm up to you, once you work your sweet charm on him.” He chuckled. “I've seen you melt the icy heart of so many, I doubt Mr. Cavill will be immune to it.”

“I don't know, Papa.” You sighed, fruitlessly dabbing at your tears. “He's not like anyone I have ever met before.”

Your father's roar of laughter echoed in the growing misty darkness. “The man is the richest in the county and among the elitist rich in the country, lamb. He's got airs and graces, self entitlement, ego and everything at his fingertips. He's spent his life with people at his beck and call, doing his bidding and obeying him.” He chuckled. “You've never dealt with a rich person before. But, you'll adapt, you are so much like your mother in that aspect. You are strong, independent, intelligent and like a red hot piece of steel coming out of the forge, capable of shaping and molding yourself to fit into any situation.”

“You just need to show him that.”

“So, you think I should go back to him and his dreary castle?” You frowned up at him, your stomach in knots.

“I do, lamb.” He nodded, but you could see he had knots in his own stomach. “If he ever does anything vile against you or your person, you come home, and he'll feel the strength of my hammer.” He told you, showing where you had inherited your stubbornness.

“All right, Papa.” You sighed, but straightened your stiff back. “I'll go back, for you.”

“Then, let's be off!” He said, taking your bag for you and accompanied you back through the village and up the road leading back to Cavill and his Castle of loneliness. “I'll write to you more regularly.” Your father said, as you both reached the turn on the road leading up to the house. “So, it will seem like I am with you more.” He promised, his voice slightly weak.

“I would love nothing more.” You replied, your own voice weak with tears and emotions, as you reached out and squeezed his hands.

Taking leave of your father, you made the solitary and anxious walk up to the castle, trying not to let the shadows from the trees and sudden animal noises spook you, keeping your eyes forward. Once you reached the front door you thought of knocking or ringing the bell, but knew if you did it would wake Henry and you weren't in the mood and didn't possess the strength for his cold wrath. So, you tried the handle and found it open, which in actuality, didn't surprise you. No one in their right or ill mind would try to rob the Bane, no matter how rich he might be.

You quietly closed the door behind you, before taking off your shoes, not wanting to make the old floorboards creak under their soles. Gingerly tiptoeing by Henry's study door, it was closed, but you weren't willing to risk him being inside and hearing you, before mounting the stairs, pausing with each small noise you or the house made. Only letting out a soft sigh of relief, you weren't aware you were holding, when you reached your floor, no one but you occupied the floor, with the Bane on another floor and Damien sleeping somewhere below stairs no doubt.

But, you lifted a brow at the stream of light coming from under your room door, but brushed it off.

“Maybe Damien made up my fireplace to keep my room warm, while I was away.” You said to yourself, it was something sweet and thoughtful Damien would do. “Has to be, what else would it be?” You sighed at your silly paranoia and went inside.

“So, you came back.”

You yelped, dropping your shoes and bag to the floor with a clatter, pressing your back to the now closed door and your hands to your pounding chest. “What are you doing in here?” You demanded, out of breath from your fright.

“Waiting for you.” Henry replied, leaning forward in the chair by the window, that you usually occupied to read during the days.

“In my room?” You asked, lifting your brows at him and trying to collect yourself, not wanting to give the beast the satisfaction of seeing you off-guard.

“It's only your room, because I allow it to be.”

“How kind of you.” You hissed, finally recovering yourself and relaxed. “I didn't think you were capable of it.”

An oddly sinister smirk tugged up one side of Henry's mouth. “I am capable of a good many things.” He replied, licking his lips and resting his elbows on his knees. “How was your little patient, anyway.” He asked, lifting a brow at you. “Did you cure him with your cute little leaves?”

“Don't mock me!” You snapped, hands tightening into fists.

“I'll take that as a no, then.” He smirked more at you, apparently pleased with himself.

You drew in a shaky breath and let it out, trembling with a built up amount of emotions, before suddenly snapping towards him, in a fit of rage. “You fucking bastard!” You growled, jaw clenched and hands raised.

Henry snapped to his feet, like a flash of lightning, grasping your raised wrists in his hands, instantly restraining you and pushed you up against the wall beside the window he had been sitting next to. “That is fowl language from such a sweet mouth.” He growled, looking into your angry eyes.

“Did your patient break your little heart?” He mocked you, venomously.

He didn't believe for a moment that you had actually gone down to the village for a real patient, that your father had only sent the note as a cryptic message for something entirely different. Like a lover or beloved, trying to plot something to get you away from him.

“What are you talking about!” You yelled, struggling against him, confused and frightened.

“Do you think I'm a fool!?” Henry bellowed back at you, painfully pinning your hands to the wall at either side of your head. “I know that note was a fucking lie! A feign to get away from here, probably to see some peasant lover.”

“What do you care?!” You huffed, even more confused and shocked at him and his outburst. “You'd pawn me off to anything that gave you the chance to do so! You didn't want me here to start with, I know that, the whole village, if not the county, knows that.” You taunted him, hotly.

“Yet, here you are acting like your my scorned lover!”

“Because you are mine.” Henry growled in a low tone. “My possession to do with as I please.”

“Ha!” You laughed in his face. “I am no such thing.” You huffed, shaking your head at him. “I don't belong to you. My only misfortune is being held prisoner here, with a monster as a jailer.”

You yelped as one of Henry's hands gripped your jaw in a vice-like grip, forcing your head back to look up at him. “You belong to me.” He hissed, his face so close to yours now that your noses brushed and his hot breath wafted over your face. “I paid for you. All that money your dear father owes me; for the goods he uses to sustain his profession, for the taxes on the land his forge and house rest on, and so much more.”

“He sold you to me, to have those debts paid for and cleared away.”

The dull nails of his fingers pressed into the smooth skin of your cheeks and you whimpered, pathetically, immobilized by one of his hands pinning your wrists above you, his other hand gripping your head, like a bear trap, and his body caging you in, preventing even the smallest of movements of your body.

Your rage was forgotten in that instance, seeing the true Bane, and fear paralyzed you.

“So, yes.” He grinned at you in a way that made your heart stop. “I am your jailer, and you are my prisoner, and if you ever leave this house again, you will feel my wrath. Do I make myself clear to you?”

“Yes.” You gulped in a breathy whimper, unable to move your head to nod.

“Very good.” Henry replied, tipping his head slightly to the side. “Now, that's settled.” He looked to the clock, then back at you. “It's almost two in the morning.” He moved to stand sideways, but still stood close to you.

“Go to bed.” He ordered you, his tone leaving no room to argue.

Licking your dry lips, you slowly moved away from him, to the edge of your bed and pulled down the blankets, while he approached the door. You gulped, your throat sore from where the heel of his palm had pressed as he held you. “My patient,” You dared to say, as he opened the door. “died.” You informed him, your face hardening against the hurt of losing a patient and the fear that gripped you as Henry turned around.

Henry regarded you with a tired, cold and indifferent face, but his blue eyes gave away to something deeper you couldn't place your finger on. “You no longer have any patients, real or otherwise. So, you should put your mind to other things.” He told you in an emotionless voice, then left.

“Other than you, you mean.” You said to the closed door of your bedroom.

You stood by the side of your bed for a long time, paranoid that Henry was just standing in the hallway listening in on you, which he did for several minutes, before going to his own room, before your turned and went into the bathroom, desperately needing to soak in a hot bath. You needed that delectable heat and steaming water to melt away every ounce of stress, fear and exhaustion that you had coursing through your sore body, and it did just that. You didn't get out of the tub until the water turned as cold as Henry was towards you and it was almost four in the morning. Then, and only then, did you put on a nightie and crawl into bed, using the dying light of the fire in the grate to read your current book and fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon and tree tops.

“Good morning, Ms.!” Damien's chipper voice rang out as he entered your room with breakfast.

You groaned and tossed the blankets over your head, you had only gotten four hours of sleep and weren't in the mood for how happy-go-lucky Damien sounded, especially after what had happened with Henry during the night.

“Oh, come on!” He teased you, setting the silver tray of food down on the table. “It is a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the wind is hardly blowing and the birds are singing!” He said, trying to infuse his energetic mood into you, coaxing you up and out of bed, as he threw the curtains open and opened the windows, letting in the fresh sea air.

“Not today, Damien.” You sighed, turning your face into the plush pillow with a groan.

“Didn't sleep so well?” He asked, tilting his head at you, as he stood at the foot of your bed.

“You can say that.” Your mumbled reply answered, staring at the thin seam of light at the edge of your blanket.

“All right, then why don't you stay in bed, until you feel ready to get up and meet the day.” He suggested to you, though the concern was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, Damien.” You replied, closing out that thin line of light, plunging yourself in the darkness you felt yourself being swallowed into.

Lingering for a moment longer, Damien quietly showed himself out of your room, silently closing your door after him. You laid in bed for a long time after he left, not moving and barely moving, before letting out a deep sigh and tossed the blankets off of your body with a huff.

“Damn that man.” You growled, staring up at the canopy of your bed. “Damn him to hell!” You shouted, your anger and despair culminating inside of you.

You didn't care if he could hear you, let him hear you and rot for it. You had done him no wrong, you had done nothing to him, other than the misfortune of your father giving you to him to pay a lifelong debt, before you were even born and your father owed his father, before his death.

“Why couldn't all of you died in this miserable house, that's never been a home.” You growled, beating your fists against the feather mattress. “Do this already dismal world a spot brighter for the rest of us.” You raged, jerking your body to sit up and threw your pillow against the door.

You sighed and rubbed at your face, trying to calm yourself, not wanting the Bane to reduce you to this mood and attitude, it was one thing for him to act like it and another for you to do it. Your parents raised you better and would be disappointed in your tantrum. Straightening your back and taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you got out of bed, pulling on your robe and tied it around your waist, before moving over the breakfast Damien had made for you, it was almost cold now, but you didn't mind; your stomach was rumbling like an angry tiger.

Finishing your breakfast, you glanced around your room and sighed, there was nothing to do. But, read, that was.

Getting up, you went into the attached library, since you had finished your last book, The Iliad by Homer. You froze half way into the room, there was a package sitting on the table that hadn't been there the day before. You glanced at the door that led out of the library and into the hallway, it was closed, but the cobwebs that usually covered it, were broken and disturbed.

“Damien.” You sighed, shaking your head, figuring the man was just trying to cheer you up.

Picking the wrapped package up, you touched the delicate, fancy, black and gold wrapping paper, feeling the heft of what was inside and wondered what in the world he had gotten you. It felt like a book, from what you could feel through the paper, and you didn't want to ruin such nice, and clearly expensive, paper. So, you carefully unwrapped it and setting the paper down on the table, it was indeed a book, a hardcover of deep brown leather and gold stamping decoration on both covers and the spine.

Turning it over, you blinked at the cover.

“The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas.” You read off the front cover, before opening it, a folded piece of paper with your name scrawled on it slipped out and fell to the floor, making you bend down to pick it up.

Setting the book down, you unfolded the note, then frowned and shook your head at it, it was written on Cavill Industries stationary. But, the words surprised and shocked you even more.

My actions last night were unspeakable, I do not wish to keep you a prisoner in a place that has become my own penitentiary, nor make you feel fear, while you stay within these walls.

I have my reasons, that are not your fault and beyond your understanding. Take my apology with this gift, I have read it myself, and would love to know what you think of it.

Perhaps over dinner, one night.

If you would be so nicely inclined to have it, with me. - Henry

Your mouth was agape by the time you finished reading his note, having to read it twice over to ensure you weren't misreading it. You were so taken aback and dumbstruck by it, how could this be the same man that had pinned you, bodily, to a wall the night before, telling you of the wrath you would endure if you considered leaving the castle without his permission.

Was it some sick and amusing joke of his?

Was he trying to lull you into some sort of false confidence?

Was he trying to brainwash you into falling into being his good little pet?

Or was Henry being genuine and trying to make amends for his inexcusable and ungentlemanly behavior towards you?

It was all too confusing and made your head throb.

So, you set the note down on the table and picked up the book, rubbing your palm over the orate cover, before moving over to the window seat, settling on its plush cushion, the filtered gray light coming from the cloudy sky came through the windowpane, illuminated the pages just enough for you to read by, and you quickly got lost in the world that inked its pages.

[babblydrabbly]

Distracted (Peacemaker x Reader) Smut

Pairing(s): Peacemaker x F!Reader; Brief Javelin x Reader

Characters: Peacemaker/Christopher Smith, Amanda Waller, Javelin

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning(s): Smut, language, mentions of blood/violence. Choking, cream pie, semi-rough sex.

Summary: Out on a Task Force X mission, Peacemaker notices you're acting... different. He generously offers to help with what's distracting you. Asshole.

A/N: What's this? Baby's first Peacemaker fic? Takes place before The Suicide Squad (2021). Metahuman!Reader has super strength/speed abilities. Also, what kind of vanilla name is Chris Smith.

---

"Again?"

Amanda Waller arched a brow at your perturbed expression.

"My apologies." She droned. "Am I not stimulating you with enough variety, [L/n]?"

You scoffed, folding your arms in deference. It wasn't about that— It was about the deliberately repeated pairings with Christopher Smith. The dynamic that was becoming a pattern. You never would have worked with someone like Peacemaker on the outside. As much as you appreciated the job always getting done with him, you still bumped heads with him too much on the way to the finish line. He was frustratingly serious and flippant at the same time.

You decided to shut your trap before Waller decided she didn't need you anymore.

"You've got one skillset useful to me, [L/n]. I suggest you get used to the prospect of being paired up with Smith on a regular basis— While you're still around."

You nodded when she dismissed you. You had gotten used to it. You were seeing so much of Peacekeeper you were practically partners.

So, you pointedly sat to next the one called Javelin on the helicopter out of Belle Reve, as far away from Smith as possible. You were about to spend over twelve hours with him— It didn't have to start right away. While Colonel Flag gave you all the spiel on the mission, you glanced over and saw Javelin toss you a nod.

"You're Team B," The thrower noted over the whir of the helicopter. "[L/n], yes?"

"Yeah," you said. Your eyes flitted over the muscular squad member. He looked more like a superhero in his light blue and yellow get-up than the rest of you. You personally kept the lower half of your face covered with a black hard shell mask— Your armor from before you were incarcerated (Yes, you've heard the 'Baby Bane' jokes from the others). Even if you had to get used to working with a bunch of weirdos, you could at least conceal your face from them while you did it.

"You move very swiftly." He complimented, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to take that.

"Thanks," You tried, "I like your... weapon of choice?"

Javelin held his namesake in his arms, his legs spread wide to accommodate it as he rested it against his inner thigh. The innuendo normally would have had you rolling your eyes, but today they lingered, and you wondered if he still looked as broad and muscular without the suit on.

You frowned. Without the suit on?

Were you still staring down at his thighs?

You supposed he was a goddamn Olympic athlete at one point. And prison didn't seem to stop him from his regimen. —There it was again. You blinked and looked away, thankful nobody seemed to notice. Javelin seemed content with the brief introduction, so you left it at that.

Okay, so maybe it had been awhile since you...

You reprimanded yourself. These were not recreational outings. As much as you liked feeling free every once in awhile, you were never in a position to consider doing something so stupid. The last few missions were some of the closest calls you had while on the task force, but now that your job today was more about recon, you could at least let your mind wander to the less... imperative things. You crossed your legs at the ankles in front of you and let mind drift for the rest of the trip.

But christ had prison been rough. And a little boring. You didn’t have to think about Javelin moving closer to you for long— Pressing up flush against you— Before you were imagining yourself against a wall— Hell, right here on this bench— hooking your legs around his waist as he thrusted into you. You pictured him going for two, three rounds, that stupid suit lying on the floor with your back on top of it. You pictured him going down on you too, a handful of his wavy blonde hair in your grasp as you pressed your thighs around his ears. You swallowed behind the mask, glad it was there to hide your face.

You get dropped off an isolated point a few klicks outside the target area, the rest of the team traveling further in to handle the bulk of the mission. You lug some extra equipment in a canvas bag— Guns, surveillance tech— already annoyed by the heat.

The heat of the jungle. Definitely not the heat you'd been feeling in the helicopter. You walked a half mile in total silence just trying to focus on the mission again.

"What's got your tactical suit in a twist?" Smith finally uttered as you got to your destination. You almost forgot he had dropped down the rope onto the ground after you. He stood out against the green around you in his obnoxious red shirt and white pants.

"Nothing." You lied, and you could tell from under his helmet that Peacemaker thought you were full of shit today. Great.

You set up inside a small building— An outpost long abandoned. Whatever organization you were taking down for Waller, they clearly had to downsize over the years. You kicked open the metal door, sending it flying off its hinges. Smith entered first, clearing all the rooms before you joined him. Upstairs, you begin setting up the equipment together. Peacemaker started with standing up a rifle by the window, aiming it at the road below.

You fiddled with a tablet; You went downstairs to put a sensor on the door frame and on the rusted gate blocking the road outside. They were supposed to warn you when any vehicles were approaching, but when you came back up, it lost signal. You did this twice; You batted at the little screen, vexed. There were probably signal jammers over at the main compound that could still reach all the way out here. You thought about how Team A was doing— So inevitably, your thoughts drifted back to the damn Javelin guy.

"Jesus!" You snapped. You were grateful when you didn't break the small screen in half with your strength.

"Okay. What the fuck is wrong." Came Peacemaker's voice from across the room. You stood there without turning around. You took a breath, tossed the tablet onto the bag at your feet.

"Nothing is wrong, Smith. Fuck off." You said. You reached up and unclipped your vest. Beneath it, you felt the cool air of the shelter hit your jumpsuit. You tossed the vest on the floor, then turned around. "When are they supposed to get here?"

He quirked a brow, as if proving his point. Since when didn't you remember the mission details? Rather than give him the satisfaction of thinking you were slipping you waved your own question away.

"God, never mind."

He scoffed. You watched him remove his helmet and gloves, setting them down carefully next to his own pack. He'd made his own area across the room from yours, another tablet showing him a view of the road propped up against the wall. Smith took a seat on the floor; The two of you were going to have to play the waiting game now.

In silence. The thought made you pinch the bridge of your nose right above where your mask stopped.

"You know, I've been at Belle Reve for four years now." You finally relented. You leaned back against your wall, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah? So?" Smith retorted. You rolled your eyes.

"So," God— You were really confiding in Christopher Smith. That's what it was coming down to. "I haven't had sex in four years. It's... not a big deal— Nothing's wrong. That's just what I was annoyed about earlier, you know? Consider me over it."

"That why you were ogling the Javelin in the copter today?"

Shit. Shit!

You dropped your arms. "You piece of garbage. You saw that?"

"I'm garbage? You're the one sexually harassing our fellow teammates with your eyes."

"I was not sexually— Nope. I'm done. You're ridiculous." You said. You reached down and went back to your tablet, busying yourself with it idly.

Peacemaker did the same. From the corner of your eye, you just knew he was doing it smugly.

"You know," He said after a few minutes, "If that's all you're bitching about, we can just get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

"You and me. Target's not coming in for another six hours, by the way. You don't need that much time do you, 'four-years-dry'?"

You stared at him from across the room. When you didn't reply, Peacemaker set his screen down so damn casually you consider just shooting yourself in the head.

"You're off your game. I'm not going to let you compromise our objective."

You threw your hands up. "There it is. You're like a broken record."

"What? Am I fucking wrong?"

"No, you're fucking crazy."

"Get over here." Smith instructed in a low voice.

The words shot up your spine, sending a very mixed signal to your brain. Directly across from you, Peacemaker was pinning you with an expectant look— One that was clearly a challenge. It pissed you off.

It was the look he used when he said you couldn't rip a guy's spine right out of his back— It dared you. And when you did succeed, you would shoot him an equally smug look in return. Your back and forths were always crass, always a test of who would back down.

You weren't normally so brutal when you worked alone, but something about Peacemaker brought it out of you. Whenever you were paired together, it was like your powers weren't something you had to hold back. They were something he was always prodding you to embrace. The jabs, the snark— It made you want to punch him in the face.

Standing up, you crossed the room. Smith didn't move as you stepped over his legs, as you leaned down to straddle his waiting lap. He simply watched you shift around until you're comfortably seated, your hands resting on his shoulders. He moved to place his own on your thighs but didn't do anything more.

"Well?" You said.

He shrugged, "Your call."

"What am I gonna do? Dry hump you?"

"Hey, if that's what it takes."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fuck."

Finally, you reached up, unclipping the back of your mask.

"Whoa, wait—" He started, finally reacting to this ridiculous situation, but you already had it off, in your hand.

"I—" He stared at you. You shifted, feeling nervous as you stared back. It occurred to you that you'd never seen him shocked before.

He blinked. "I've never seen your whole face before."

That wasn't true— was it? You tried to think. "What about in Cuba? We camped out for like three days. I had to take it off to eat at least."

"I didn't look."

"You didn't look."

"I don't fucking know! You wear that fucking thing everywhere. When you took it off to eat I assumed you didn't want me looking."

"Wow. How courteous."

"Fuck you."

"Well, isn't that what we're doing here?" You said, putting your hands on your hips stubbornly. Smith's were still resting on your splayed thighs.

"I can't wear this when we— How am I supposed to...?"

He snorted softly, "Don't tell me you're a romantic, [L/n]."

Nothing about this seemed romantic. Least of all with him. Still, if you were going to take the opportunity, you were going to do it your way. You looked him over.

He had a few tufts sticking out from wearing his damn helmet earlier. You reached up and brushed some of it back into place at his temple first. Smith blinked up at you, his brows pinching together.

"This okay?" You heard yourself asking him. He eventually nodded once, watching you as you placed your palm on the side of his face. Finally, you leaned down and caught his lips with yours in a long kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to know his reaction.

But you felt him return it. Slowly at first— Then he was kissing you back. You moaned somewhere in the back of your throat as he ran his large hands up and down your legs, his fingers folding to grip your ass tightly. You were already reacting, already so touched starved. His lips parted, and you felt him swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, over the front of your teeth. You opened for him, your tongue darting out to meet his hungrily.

You tugged at the front of his uniform. Without a word he reached down to pull it up over his head, the fabric dropping off somewhere beside you. You glanced down at his bare chest. You ran your hands over it, dragged your nails down his pecs experimentally. When you looked back up he was still watching you.

Your mouths crashed to meet again, this time with a fervor that threatened to split your bottom lip with every bruising kiss. You felt his hands on you again, pressing into your sides, your waist. He didn't move to take off your clothes, so you drew your hands to your own chest, pulled the zipper of your suit all the way down to your stomach.

He took the invitation, and you gasped when he roughly reaches in and cups a hand around your breast; He kneaded it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. His other hand worked at your shoulder, yanking the rest of your suit off of you. You reached back and tugged the sleeves off, finally exposing your upper body.

You felt the clasp at your back come undone, and Smith was tearing your bra off next. A muscular arm came around to scoop you up by the waist, bringing your chest closer to him. He leaned down, took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Smith—" He bit you roughly, and it sent a shock of electricity up you. He palmed your other breast again, tweaked at your nipple until your back was arching into his touch. You squeezed your thighs around him.

Then he was back in your face again, bruising a kiss against your lips as you took a breath. Your eyes flew open when you felt the press of his fingers to your mouth. You shot a look at him, but didn't object when he pushed his index and middle fingers past your lips. You sucked them hungrily, your eyes fluttering shut again.

"Fuck," Peacemaker murmured, feeling your tongue swirl around the digits. You slurped sloppily until they were soaked, until he was pulling them back out with a light pop. He brought his hand down to the base of your suit, where the zipper stopped just above your pelvis. A pair of black panties peaked out from the V shape there, the same shade and material as your bra. You gasped when Smith finally pushed down past the layer of cotton, gripped his bare shoulders when you felt his wet fingers dip right into your cunt.

"Fuck," He said again, because you didn't need any help down there. "You're so fucking wet."

You expected to feel humiliation— To hear a joke about how it really had been while. But all you felt were his warm, thick fingers; He ran them up and down your slit, pressed them in small circles around the peak of you a few times. You cursed, your head falling back. Smith leaned up to kiss your throat, teeth dragging across the base of your collarbone. He bit you some more, daring to take your meta-human skin between his teeth. You cried out, your arm reaching to wrap around his head in pleasure.

Smith slid his fingers up into your pussy. He crooked them, scissoring them inside you. Your hips bucked, unable to resist meeting his short thrusts. You felt him grin against your neck. "Damn, baby."

"Shut up." You whispered, letting your hips rolling down to fuck yourself on his fingers some more. When he slipped in a third you moan loudly.

"Fuck! Fuck me." You demanded, yanking the short hair at the back of his head. A groan left Smith's lips, his head jerking back. Quickly, he removed his hand from your suit, pulling the rest of your clothes further down your waist. You lifted yourself off him, but Smith didn't wait. He picked you up and lifted you both off the floor. You grabbed at him as he laid you down on your back, his body between your legs. Then he was ripping off the last of your suit, tearing your boots off.

"Watch it," You snapped— If he fucking ripped anything you—

"Oh please." He huffed, and your thoughts stopped in their tracks as you watched him lean back on his knees above you, undoing his white pants. His cock sprang free from a pair of just as white underwear, his arousal already thick and ready. You stopped yourself from expressing how the sight of him made you even wetter.

He took a moment to drink in your face, a hint of that smug smirk forming. You growled, pulling him down by the neck again before he ruined the moment with speaking. Smith caught your lips again, his hand running down your naked body. He gripped one of your legs and nudges them apart, planting his knees between you.

Despite his earlier preparation, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock pushing inside you. You groaned as he entered you, your walls stretching around his length. Your back arched as you took him in, eyes rolling a little into the back of your head.

"Fuck— Chris—" You shuttered. His hands squeezed your thighs at the sound of his name leaving you. You heard his breath shake, his hips remaining utterly still as you got used to the size of him. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see him waiting for you; You nodded once, another moaning already escaping in anticipation.

It was like a brick wall knocking into you. Smith didn't hold back as he began fucking you— Knew you could take it— what with your powers and all. The idea seemed to drive him, and he began hammering into you, his hands moving to bracket your hips so he could fuck you better. Faster. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

Fuck— You couldn't think. You arched up off of the floor as you rolled your hips to meet Smith's. It felt like he could keep up this pace forever the way he wasn't stopping. Your breathing turned to panting, a high whine escaping you when he shifts just right— he picked you up again. You arched up into his arms, holding yourself up from around his neck as he fucked up into your soaking cunt. You bounced on his cock, a sheen of sweat blooming across your skin.

When you opened your eyes, Smith was still watching you intently— witnessing every little expression on your face while he fucked you. You could hardly discern what he was thinking. All you could focus on was him ramming you, the feeling of his cock hitting and stretching you out.

“Choke me.” He said, and you have just enough wherewithal to oblige. You wrapped your hand around his throat, pressing firmly on either side. You felt the tightness of his skin shifting under your touch. His pulse beat a fast rhythm in time with his rough thrusts. The strength of your grip was a little vice tipping Smith over the edge.

The look on his face, his eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing sends a jolt up you. You used your other hand to slip two fingers down between your folds. They found your clit, making quick work of bringing you to close to climaxing. You shuttered as you felt the tight coil of it building. Finally, with a cry you were coming, squeezing your legs around him as your hips rolling through every wave of it. Smith groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm until your walls were fluttering from the unrelenting stimulation.

“Going to—“ He warned, and you squeezed the hand around his throat harder, making his eyes roll up. You whimpered as you feel the hot spurt of him fill you, his hips finally locking as he pumped you with his cum.

You both took a moment to catch your breath, your hand releasing from Smith’s neck so he could take in a long gasp. His skin was reddened along his throat and chest. You saw the beginnings of your handprint bruising around his Adam's apple, your fingers a mark on his skin. You hung onto him like that, your arms back around his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck.” You finally said. Out of habit, you checked your watch to assess where you were on the mission. He took your chin in his hand, drawing your eyes back up to him. You saw that his hair had fallen back into his eyes, his face glistening with sweat.

“I’m not done with you.” He said. It sent a shiver through you. You felt your walls flutter again, some of his cum leaking out with his half-hard cock still firm inside you. You gasped as he pulled you off of him, guiding you down until you were turning around on all fours on the floor. You glanced over your shoulder, already craving the feeling of him filling you up with his cock again.

And fuck it, you two do take the whole six hours.