#and THIS beauty was in the pile. marked at $1. i almost did a little jig

[postingcards]

aquitania at new york art card from charles turner's ship portrait series, ca. 1923 @postcardtimemachine

[britcision]

AND HERE WE ARE! Totally getting this out in February well done team! And this is gonna be our last chapter before a wee teeny tiny time skip and Jason’s finished core! What a beautiful day 🥰

We’re getting another two-parter too, because Danny and Jason refused to let me get to the end of this lil introductory arc without at least one more pile of abject fluff! But finally, we’re ready to begin the plot!

Once again, the link to the AO3 version is in the first chapter and the 15th chapter; you can see it in the text for the link if you wanna subscribe to be told when it updates 😁

First Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

——————

So That Just Happened part 1

Back in her own room on the other side of the country from Gotham, Sam Manson reclined back into giant, coffin shaped body pillow her beloved girlfriend had given her when they moved and contemplated her phone.

The brand new Wayne-chat was blowing up satisfactorily, although apparently Tim was a massive stalker too. That was probably a good thing; it meant she hadn’t actually nuked Tuck’s chances with his nerd-crush. Now they could bond over their mutual stalker tendencies.

But, did that make her revenge less effective?

It wasn’t like she was actually out to ruin his life, but she’d kinda like to leave a mark. Something that would make him think twice about letting her think he and Danny had fucking died in Gotham in her absence.

Or. Well. Gone radio silent in Gotham, which was probably actually worse because if they were dead she’d know exactly where they were.

The Wayne chat were all pretty sure Tim and Tucker were together too, and Sam’s new best friend Babs had even pulled up the feed from their living room tv somehow. Sam wasn’t exactly the tech wizard Tucker was, but… after seeing that, she disconnected her and Val’s TV from the wifi.

And settled in to remote watch Tuck get his ass kicked at Spiderheck, apparently. At least for a little while; until something else on her phone caught her attention.

It was… almost funny. While she knew she was a whole three timezones away, she’d never really felt left out before. Like maybe she should have stayed on the east coast…

Not that she regretted it, of course. She had a good job, a good school, a wonderful girlfriend who’d been so excited to get into a good school and really go to town on the business department.

(Apparently there were posters of Val’s face in the ethics classrooms. Sam refused to ask if they were golden example or dire warning.)

She was just… a long way away. Even a long portal away, and… being back with the guys, even in Gotham, made the quiet of their comfy little apartment seem lonely.

Huffing, she turned and traced her fingers through the leaves of her mimosa plant on the windowsill beside the bed. They curled gently shut at her touch, and made her smile. Just like always.

She was happy to be home. She wasn’t technically liminal enough yet that it was her haunt, but… well, for all the jokes Val made, Sam had to admit she’d put down roots. She loved her job at the greenhouses, and her internship at the botanical gardens.

She loved scaring the hell out of the dudebros in Val’s business classes who thought ethics were a waste of time. She loved sharing messages with Jazz about the boys, laughing that even three hours ahead, Tuck and Danny still couldn’t get up before them.

She was kinda considering texting Harley about Timblr too. Not like, for any particular reason; if Tim’s family weren’t gonna embarrass Tucker enough, Harley probably wouldn’t either. She’d probably think it was adorable.

Or, y’know, worrying evidence of obsession. Psych types worried about stuff like that, usually.

Sam was kinda also considering sending Harley Jazz’s number. Jazz might still be skating just on the neurosurgery side of the line, but she’d always been big into psychology. Big enough to try and triple major, and only drop to major-major-minor after the third pre-exam meltdown.

And she could use having someone else do the shrink bit on her a little more often. Although really, for that Sam should make her a professional appointment; friends didn’t ask friends to psychoanalyze their overprotective pseudo-sisters. And Jazz could use more friends.

Jazz could use a transfer to a specialty that would let her sleep once in a while, a more stable supply of fresh ecto, and about six weeks in a meditation retreat to get the accidental telepathy under control, but more friends would be good too. And less stubborn insistence on her second try for double majors.

Maybe the switch to psychiatry full time would be good for her? Or psychology. Sam was a little fuzzy on the difference, which one Jazz was currently still minoring in, and which one Harley did.

(Jazz’s current second major was neurosurgery, which Jazz insisted was totally less taxing alongside a neurology major because it was the same body part. She was the only person in her class attempting the double major though, so.)

Humming tunelessly to herself, Sam flicked back into the group chat. Babs was still sharing the feed… brows drawing in, Sam frowned at the little spider figures still fighting to the death. Now, she wasn’t as big of a gamer as she used to be, but she was pretty sure Spiderheck didn’t actually offer red berets.

Snorting a laugh, she flicked back out of the chat and opened a new one, adding both Jazz and Harley. All it needed was the perfect name… something that would grab both of their attention.

Obvious. Child’s play.

Snuggling back into her coffin pillow, Sam grinned down at her phone screen.

Danny Has A Boyfriend chat was live.

**

Having eight legs wasn’t exactly the same as suddenly having four new ones, or two new legs and two new arms. While the first two were definitely functioning as “hands”, being the ones to pick up and use all of the weapons, Tim had quickly learned that he could grip with any of the eight “feet” that were available.

Yeah, spinning a laser staff all the way down one side of his body and up the other was fucking cool.

He’d adjusted pretty quickly during their “practice” round, while they all got used to the web slinging and worked out how to open the boxes and use the weapons.

(Tucker had swung himself into the lava by accident, so they’d started a second round.)

Tim felt pretty much ready to go, although if he was honest with himself… his only actual complaint was that he didn’t have a camera.

Conner had asked Tuck at the start of their second round if his powers had been nerfed to make it “fair”. Tucker, sweet innocent Tucker, had managed to convey a sidelong look even looking at even without a face on their little blob bodies and said he didn’t think Conner needed a nerf.

He just needed to understand how the powers worked, and they could be incorporated into the system. Which, well, was like catnip for Conner.

At least Tucker seemed a lot less flustered about talking to him while they were both spiders, because Conner had started talking his ear off about TTK and hadn’t stopped since.

Tim was kinda considering swinging over and taking them both out, just to get the game moving. But Conner was cute when he got really into something, and being a headless little spider body did not seem to have changed that.

He spent the time practicing with the webs instead, spinning and tossing himself around the map. It was pretty similar to using a grapple, although he wasn’t exactly sure whether or not the web was coming from his own body.

If it was, it was coming from inside a foot, which wasn’t how actual spiders worked… but Tim was pretty sure that was on Spiderheck, not Tucker.

Being able to run around upside down was the biggest change for him, and pretty cool. Tim scuttled around under a couple of the higher platforms for a while, planning his strategy.

Honestly, he was pretty sure TTK was going to wind up fucking Conner over rather than making anything easier for him. You’d think that flying would be an advantage in Spiderheck, at least as far as avoiding lava or an out of bounds, but Tim knew pretty explicitly how far it took Conner to stop.

It wasn’t exactly on a dime, and in this game? The pace didn’t exactly allow for imprecision.

And they were wasting time talking about it rather than getting used to having an extra six hand-feet.

Still upside down, Tim twisted until he could see the other two spiders. Which was when he learned that… they did kinda have their faces on them. Just, instead of being in a face position, on the front of his body that he was seeing out of, it was just sorta… plastered across the body.

Like a photo skin mapped onto a flat blob.

He considered letting the other two know; if anyone walked into the room, they’d probably be able to see their little faces on the screen. If they were just standing around talking.

Also, the pictures’ mouths weren’t moving, which hadn’t been weird when Tim was listening to them talk and didn’t think they had mouths. Kinda was to look down on Conner’s smiling face and hear his voice at a mile a minute.

Tucker probably already knew, and might have done the faces on purpose? And if he hadn’t, it was gonna be pretty funny to see what happened when he noticed.

He’d gotten progressively better at actually talking to Conner the longer he wasn’t actually looking at him, and the focus being on the game had helped too. Face in the game? Probably gonna throw him again.

And it was probably time to get things actually moving, so he could enjoy that.

Humming softly to himself, Tim scuttled across to the loot crates, found himself a double ended lightsabre, and dropped down on Tucker and Conner’s heads.

**

“Sooooooo…” Danny clapped his hands, doing his best to make his broad grin at least look a little innocent as he floated sideways into Jason’s field of view, “not that that wasn’t adorable and dramatic and everything, super touching, buuuut…?”

He almost laughed as Jason jumped, having apparently forgotten Danny was there for a hot second, then pulled his hand back from Lady Gotham’s to glare at him. The Lady herself didn’t bother hiding her chuckle, settling back to recline once more on a cloud of smog.

“Was there something you needed, Phantom?” She asked with a dry amusement.

Danny shrugged innocently, sticking his hands in his spectral pockets. Much more dangerous than regular pockets, but he’d not been doing more than blob wrangling lately.

“Not so much what I need, just, y’know, trying to keep things on track. I dunno if you’ve got other plans for the night Jay, but we were with Frostbite for a while and if you did…” he trailed off, and Jason grimaced.

“Not what you’d call set plans, but…” Jason trailed off as well, and Danny could feel the guilt even before it tried creeping in.

Nope, not having that. He’d almost talked himself into that bullshit already tonight, none for Jason. He nodded airily, floating up to drape an arm over the larger man’s shoulder.

“All I’ve gotta do is get to bed before midnight, so I’m not rushing now that Tucker’s found himself a new ride.” Waggled eyebrows punctuated that comment with enough emphasis that Jason snickered, darker feelings pushed aside without finding purchase.

“What, you don’t wanna go watch that train wreck in person?” Jason teased with a lopsided half smile.

Danny pulled a face, both at the thought of Tucker’s goddamn disastrous attempts at flirting and… well, the possibility of running into Bruce again. Maybe Constantine.

Danny was maaaaaybe kinda avoiding the wizard since he’d started collecting the other contracts on his soul; it wasn’t like he wanted them for nefarious purposes, it was just fucking weird. He didn’t like owning people. Not even overgrown Sour Patch Kids in trench coats.

(At least Constantine was still alive though. Those unlucky souls who died still bound to Pariah damn near went through a full reboot. No memories, no personality, none of what Danny would have thought of as like, the core components of a soul.

So far nothing anyone had done had been able to help them, and Danny had a nasty feeling the final answer would be Ending them. The Observants didn’t want to, they were perfectly happy with a thrall army so long as they controlled it, but Danny was firm.

No slaves, no thralls. If the only way he could free them was through a final and permanent death… he would.

But Clockwork was still looking, and so long as the ancient of time thought there might be a way… Danny held out hope too.)

For now, he shook his head quickly, holding up both hands.

“No way man. Bruce already hates my guts, I’m gonna keep a healthy distance.”

For both their sakes, really. Jason’s mood every time Bruce had spoken to him today kinda proved he hadn’t listened to Danny’s advice and stepped up. Not that Danny had exactly expected him to; again, hated his guts.

Jason pulled a face but didn’t bother to argue; he’d probably rather not actually deal with the old man for a third time either. Instead he just shrugged, turning his attention back to Lady Gotham.

“Do you know what time it is in Gotham now, my lady?” He asked, and the really weird thing was that it didn’t actually sound weird.

Danny always felt awkward and formal whenever he tried to address a ghost by their title, and Lady Gotham was the very worst because she never bothered to hide when she was laughing at him. Which was, y’know, every time he said it.

(He wasn’t gonna just call her “Gotham” though. That would be worse, so he just sucked it up.)

On Jason’s lips, words like “my lady” just sounded right. Danny flashed back for a moment to snow in a graveyard, and Jason knelt before him quoting Shakespeare. There was something in Jason that was just made for flowery language and dramatic proclamations.

Lady Gotham clearly agreed, bestowing a fond smile upon Jason before inclining her head back for a moment, those red on black eyes glowing suddenly brighter. Looking into the living world, or right up Clockwork’s ass?

“It’s coming to ten o’clock,” she said softly, something almost like regret in her tone. The smile that she turned back to them was softer, sadder.

Danny’d feel bad about being the one to point it out, except, yeah. He’d had to. Ghosts in general didn’t exactly think about time. It was a problem for the living, so - him. And Jason.

Who didn’t seem nearly so sorry with the answer. He nodded, fingers beginning to drum against his thigh.

“Time for a few more questions, then.” That wasn’t a question, and if Danny was completely insensate or possibly locked in a sensory deprivation tank he might have warned Jason about talking to a powerful spirit like that.

It’d need to be a damn good tank for him to miss all the signs though; Jason was so in the good books. Lady Gotham just smiled and nodded, gesturing once more with her traffic cone.

“Of course. And, of course, we will have plenty of other opportunities to speak. I may spend much of my time here, but now that we have been introduced… I can also speak to you there, if you would like?”

It was a delicate question, and Danny hesitated, suddenly wondering if he should… well, elaborate again.

“Uh… yeah, sure? I’d like that?” Jason asked, clearly confused by the reticence, and that made up Danny’s mind.

“She’s not going to sound the same,” he explained quickly, giving Lady Gotham a quick smile. She smiled back, gesturing for him to continue, because none of the damn older ghosts explained shit for themselves.

Danny totally didn’t roll his eyes.

“Like, the way we talk to her in the Infinite Realms is kinda the abstract? She looks kinda human,” he added, gesturing vaguely at the Lady.

Jason’s brows furrowed for a moment, but he felt more curious than concerned.

“So… she’s an anthropomorphic personification, but not in the living world?” He asked, and Danny’s eyes nearly crossed.

He turned to Lady Gotham, hoping that this might be some weird city slang, and she laughed at him. Again.

“Yes,” she agreed with Jason instead, which absolutely did not help. “It’s easier for me to speak with you here, using eyes and ears like your own. But building and maintaining this shape in the living world is… complicated.”

“Because her real body there is the city,” Danny added, privately resolving to ask Sam what the fuck Jason was talking about later.

Honestly, Jason would probably get along real good with Mr Lancer. They both liked weird words.

At least he actually looked a little confused too now; Danny had freaked the first time Lady Gotham talked to him out in the city itself. He gave Jason a consoling pat on the shoulder.

“You’ve gotta see it to believe it, man. Just… it’s gonna be weird.” Not the most helpful, sure, but Danny was doing his best!

Jason nodded slowly, willing to table it for now, and refocused on Lady Gotham, something darker now welling in the purpose building inside him.

“So you said the Joker wasn’t from the Curse,” he said bluntly. Danny flinched, more from the lack of any aura inflection than the remnants he could feel.

Yeah, a lotta Gothamites hated the Joker specifically, but if Danny had even the faintest doubt of who’d killed Jason… the black, leaden lump of Death in Jason’s aura wiped it out.

Lady Gotham stilled too, her own smile fading as she regarded Jason. Those red and black eyes were suddenly so much older, so much sadder.

“Yes,” she agreed softly, lowering her traffic cone to rest at her hip. “Are you sure?”

‘Are you sure you want to know?’

Or ‘Are you sure you want to know now?’

Danny wouldn’t put money on which she’d intended, but it didn’t take a genius to know the answer to both. Stubborn, emotionally repressed, and self destructive as hell, bat-training only left one answer.

Jason nodded firmly now, his jaw clenching.

“Yes.”

Lady Gotham studied him for a moment longer but didn’t argue, inclining her head gently.

“Then I will be brief. While the Curse has always been part of the city, feeding on fear and despair, in recent years we have both felt… something else. I told you of the malevolence on the land?” She asked, and Jason made a soft, impatient noise.

“And that it’s where the Curse comes from, yeah. And that the Joker is different,” he prodded.

Danny made a face. He was usually very much on the side of blunt answers, and knew full well that the Lady wouldn’t actually like, break Jason for being mouthy. He was very, very used to seeing favouritism from the outside, and Jason was clearly a firm favourite.

Maybe because he was currently Gotham’s only actual part ghost child? (To be fair, Danny didn’t think that’d change much in the fullness of time; Jason was his favourite of all the bats alive or dead.)

Whatever it was, his interruption only brought a flicker of a smile to the Lady’s lips, which vanished just as quickly.

“Yes. The Curse is indeed the original manifestation of that malevolence, given form and now, purpose. But even that malevolence came from somewhere; Gotham lies on a crack between worlds, older than time. Every world in the multiverse exist along certain markers; certain weak spots. Gotham is one of them.”

“Of course it is,” Jason grumbled beside him and Danny shifted closer, brushing their shoulders together.

Personally, he figured that if Gotham was a weak point in the universe and all the bad shit just leaked through, they were probably doing pretty well for themselves. Then, he’d seen the depths of the Ghost Zone; he knew what else could be trying to leak through.

Which, obviously, meant the good luck had to end.

“When the Joker died,” Lady Gotham continued, only to be cut off by a startled “What?!” from Jason and a totally-super-dignified squawk from Danny.

“You are not gonna tell me that asshole’s a ghost!” Danny moaned, dragging his hands down his face. Honestly, if he’d missed a whole actual ghost in the city for an entire year too, he was never going to live it down.

Like any of the other ghosts had any fucking clue what it was like being half alive… or living fully inside a city spirit’s haunt. Let them visit Lady Gotham’s and see what they sensed.

“Who the hell killed the Joker?!” Jason demanded, something weirdly like panic spiking through anger. “It wasn’t fucking Bruce-”

Lady Gotham silenced them both with a pointed look, shadows growing suddenly long and dark under her stare. Then she returned her gaze to Jason, her expression sombre.

“The Joker is not a ghost, nor a halfa. Bruce Wayne resuscitated him, which may be all that kept him from becoming a manifestation himself; he was killed not only in Gotham, but by a nexus point, in rage and revenge and hatred.”

There was something dark in Lady Gotham’s eyes now, something black and burning and for half a second Danny could swear he felt that rage himself, deep in his chest.

“Something else leaked through in the short time that he was dead,” she went on, her gaze firmly locked on Jason’s and Danny couldn’t imagine just how much the older-younger halfa was feeling under its full force. “Something small, and hungry, and craving death because it was denied his - the death I believe would give it shape.”

It wasn’t enough for Jason, that much was obvious; bitterness-frustration-grief hung in the air in a cloud almost thicker than the Lady’s smogs, and this time Danny gave in to temptation.

Let his own soothing-sorrow-loss twine through, even if he didn’t exactly understand the cause of the feeling. Jason startled a little, knocked from grumbling something that hadn’t been for anyone but him, but his hand reached back for Danny’s. Squeezed tight, even as the bitterness deepened.

His eyes narrowed, he remained focused on Lady Gotham though.

“Of course. Of course he fucking brought the clown back, even after someone did the world a fucking favour,” he hissed through his teeth, then raised his voice more clearly. “So, what? No one can ever kill the Joker, or Gotham gets another curse? Who’d fucking notice at this point?”

A genuine sorrow and pain passed across Lady Gotham’s face but she schooled it, kept her own aura calm and composed… or at least in closer than they could feel. There was probably a reason she’d put space between them again.

“Not quite, but close,” she agreed softly, those red bat eyes somehow more gentle even against the black pupil. “This other entity is already here, growing each day. Every violent death in Gotham is being consumed by it, which I will admit has strengthened the truce between the Curse and myself. Neither of us wish to feed it any more than necessary.”

Danny’s brows furrowed at that and he tried to think back to everything that Frostbite had ever told him about spirits. Not the dead-people kind, but the Neverborn; entities, concepts, ideas given form. Like time, and cities.

“So… when did the Joker die?” He asked cautiously, and felt surprise jolt through Jason. Lady Gotham gave him a quick glance, and cocked her head at Jason himself.

“Not so long after Jason did. A matter of months, less than a year, though he was dead less than a few minutes.” There was something in her tone, a weight on the words that made Danny think he was on the right track… but that she didn’t want to say it.

Which. Well. That was all kinds of bad fucking news if an entity as old as Lady Gotham was wary of speaking it into being. Luckily, Danny was just a fucked up little half ghost who had absolutely no supernatural tie ins to things like belief.

And he believed in just laying all the cards on the table before he decided if he had to flip it.

“That’s really young for any kind of belief spirit,” he said bluntly, watching Lady Gotham’s eyes. Saw… just a hint of something, creasing the corners, and seriously considered reaching his aura to hers for the first time today.

It’d save so much time to just get the message through feeling, but… if she preferred words, the words had to be important, and Jason probably needed words.

Fuck, they’d all need words, because this was going to be a goddamn bat-briefing if Lady Gotham was filling them in, and Mr Emotional Repression Is My Soulmate was not going to be up to aura reads.

Chewing his lower lip, he thought through the next stage a couple times before speaking slowly, watching for any hint he was still on the right path.

“If… it’s grown fast enough that you both noticed… it’s not new?” He tried, wondering briefly if he’d retroactively doomed them all by thinking about “what else could break through” from the depths of the Zone.

Lady Gotham shook her head though, gesturing impatiently through her smoke to clear it… maybe the first sign he’d ever seen that she didn’t control it entirely.

“No. That much, we are both certain of. This entity… it is new and unformed, with no Name of its own. At the moment, all of the fear it wreaks is only feeding belief in the Curse, which is why it only has death. But there is already a will there, long before it should even have awareness. And it wants to grow.”

“Oh great, so Joker’s got a Pitty 2.0 but his is on the outside,” Jason quipped, irritation sparking through him… and Danny was kinda glad to see it, honestly. Just a little flash of the guy he’d been getting to know in all the dark.

Even Lady Gotham managed a brief smile, and didn’t actually bother refuting it; closing her eyes for a moment, she waved her hand and the clouds of smog between them solidified briefly into a model of the city. Buildings only, but with horribly empty shadows between them.

“The Joker’s death gave it an entrance, and his revival denied it his shape, his Name, and the fear he commands. But it is no longer fixated on killing the Joker - and it was, for several years. It pushed him before it had the power for anything else, driving him further, feeding poison to those around him, trying to have him killed so that it could become The Joker, the pure essence of every bloody mark the clown left on Gotham. And it very nearly succeeded,” she added softly, her gaze turning back to Jason with an almost tangible sorrow.

Something in Danny’s gut iced over, and suddenly he was really, really glad he didn’t know what she was thinking.

**

Bruce looked better as he rose from the table, Diana decided, watching her old friend closely. For all that he’d come with an actual reason for his doom and gloom (for a change), his attitude during the briefing was positively relaxed compared to their own discussion that followed.

He would still be worrying and fretting, she knew him too well to believe anything else, and… she knew why. While Diana had no children of her own (though she had met and heard of other versions of herself who had), she did dearly love her own proteges, and those of her friends.

She remembered Jason as the young, sweet boy who’d stumbled over every word he said to her and stared at her like she’d hung the stars. She remembered Bruce’s grief, Batman’s rage, and the shadow that hung over the Dark Knight with every step until Tim Drake took him to heel.

She knew that there was too much there, the guilt and pain and loss and grief for Bruce to see Jason objectively, and she didn’t begrudge him that. Nor did she condone it.

It only hurt both men, and while she would not give her opinion when it wasn’t wanted… well, she was aware Bruce spoke to Clark of his worries around Jason much more often than he would to her. This time though, she’d had no choice.

She knew the man well enough to know what was truly scaring him in this situation; that Jason would be taken from him again. He was at least as upset by this “Danny” boy as the thought of war with an entire realm.

It would have been cute, if he wasn’t a grown adult man who prided himself on critical thinking. Or actively forcing his son away with his own actions at every turn.

Still, there was one piece of counsel she could give. The thing he hated the most of all was a mystery. And while she also didn’t usually condone his stalking-as-a-sign-of-affection…

“Batman.”

He stopped in the doorway but didn’t look back, still as a statue. At least he was listening.

A fond smile pulling across her lips, Diana shook her head. Let the formal tones of Wonder Woman return to the voice of a friend.

“You see many dangers in the unknown. Perhaps you might reassure yourself by getting to know young Danny Fenton as a person, rather than a potential threat.”

He stayed frozen in the doorway for a moment longer, then nodded his head sharply and swept away.

Diana stifled a chuckle. Honestly, for all Constantine had come to her as if the world were about to end… all of their problems with this Infinite Realm were perfectly clear to her.

The American government had overstepped drastically with their Anti Ecto Acts and would be brought to heel.

The new ruler of the Infinite Realms had turned their head in this direction, and guided them to what must be fixed.

And young Jason Todd, while far from the only hero who had died and returned, had been chosen by this ruler to be favoured with protection, in exchange for service.

Of course, it may all blow out of control and become as dire as her dear friend already seemed to believe it was, but for all Bruce was constantly creating contingencies and backup plans, he very rarely had to use most of them.

She turned her attention to John Constantine instead, the magician seeming much less inclined to make himself scarce than usual. At least he had also calmed considerably, and was even smiling in his own crooked fashion after Bruce.

“You know he’s gonna go stalk that poor kid even more now?” He asked sardonically, pulling another cigarette from his pack but not reaching for the lighter.

Diana hesitated for a moment.

She’d meant for Bruce to talk to Danny, preferably directly. But Bruce did not like talking to new people; not without thorough research and a chance to prepare.

Then she shrugged.

“If it will keep him from disrupting our already tense situation with the Infinite Realms, better that he distract himself with more fatherly concerns,” she said simply.

Constantine snickered again, then frowned.

“Wait, fatherly concerns? For some kid his boy’s known like, a week?”

This time, Diana didn’t bother to restrain her smile, glancing down at the phone in her pocket.

“Merely a week, perhaps, but according to Wonder Girl they have already been caught at least once without their trousers.”

Which hadn’t been part of the official presentation, of course. Nor apparently whatever Bruce had already shared with Constantine, as the mage promptly nearly swallowed his unlit cigarette and began choking.

Diana gave him a carefully gauged slap to the back, sending the now soaked and crumpled smoke across the meeting table, but politely did not laugh.

**

Jason was pretty sure he was going to puke. Or scream. Maybe both.

It wasn’t bad enough that Bruce had refused to kill the Joker, to stop him from killing anyone else, no, he’d fucking brought him back to life. Given the fucking Joker the chance that none of his victims ever got.

None of them except Jason.

And now apparently even wanting the bastard dead was all part of some master fucking plan to make the fucking asshole even worse.

He’d wanted Bruce to be the one to avenge him from the second Tallia pulled him out of the Lazarus Pit, but when he’d come to Gotham… when his plans to carve out his turf, provoke the Joker with an old alias, set the trap had suddenly become stuffing heads in a bag…

He’d thought about it. A lot. About just hunting the fucker down, putting a bullet between his eyes, and leaving him in the Batcave deader than dead.

Had nearly done it, but no. He’d wanted… he’d wanted Bruce to choose him. To put him first, to say he loved Jason more than some moral stance, to value Tim’s life more, and Steph, and Cass, over the fucking scum who would have happily killed every last one of them with a smile on his face just to see if Bruce finally broke.

And Bruce hadn’t.

Bruce had nearly killed him.

And in and around that whole mess, he’d never gotten around to actually thinking about how his fucking daddy issues had saved the Joker’s life for… years, by now.

Jason wasn’t killing anymore. Not like, actively. Intentionally. Not because he thought Bruce was right; something, someone, had to be willing to stand up for the people of Gotham and actually stop fuckers like the Joker from killing them.

But… well, Crime Alley was his territory, and a scared enemy, a cowed enemy who’d seen their life in Jason’s hands and knew just how easily he could end it was more useful than dealing with the power vacuum, or the next million upstarts who’d think they knew better, would be better, and could take on the Red Hood themselves.

Ironically, keeping fuckers like Black Mask and Great White Shark alive and in power (at severely reduced scale) saved him time. Kept him from dealing with all those upstarts himself.

That was how Waylon had put it, back when Jason was considering adding to his bag of heads. It was… like farming. Keep them low, but keep them stable. Break anything new they went for, or anything that got on his turf.

Let them harvest some of the power hungry fucks who thought they could take a piece of the Alley.

And then Dick had noticed. And reached out. And didn’t stop until Jason gave in and reached back.

When Danny came to Gotham. Somehow, it all swung back around to Danny.

And the fact that if he actually believed what he told Bruce, he could have gone to kill the clown himself at any time since returning to the city.

And he never had. The time wasn’t right. Something came up. Something went wrong, or broke, or distracted him before he thought too hard about it.

Killing the Joker hadn’t even been in his original plans for his triumphant return. He’d just wanted to take back the Alley, prove his point to Bruce. Keep his home safe.

When had killing the Joker become such a big part of the plan? Who the fuck had gotten into his fucking head, redefined him as the last moment of his fucking life, demanded his new life be all about how the last one ended?

Eyes narrowing, he looked searchingly into Lady Gotham’s face just in time to catch her slow nod, like she’d heard every thought. Like he’d been speaking aloud.

“I could not stop it from reaching to you,” she said softly, her voice heavy with sadness, “but I could… distract. Get in the way, make its path harder. That you did not give in…”

Something soft, something proud flickered in her eyes again, and it made him want to squirm.

“You may not have consciously known that you fought yet another enemy, yet you triumphed regardless. My dear Jason…” she sighed, heavy with sorrow, and reached out a hand again as though to cup his face.

Jason found himself moving to meet her before he even thought about it. Stopped himself just before it actually got him anywhere.

He wasn’t done being angry yet. He wasn’t even sure he’d actually started. If he could ever, would ever, be angry enough for this.

There was something building in him like a tide, riding high on resentment and his spiralling thoughts. It wasn’t green tinted like the pit rage, his vision was still clear… if anything, it felt sharper, like everything had been dialled up to eleven. Like the terrible, roaring anger was seeking a target.

“I am sorry that you have been robbed of your justice in this way,” Lady Gotham said quietly and once again Jason’s focus narrowed down with her intensity, like she was the only real thing in the world, “that even your own emotions of this, your death, have been used against you. It is…”

She hesitated, actually looking to Danny for help herself for the first time. Judging from the sudden low horror Jason could feel from the other man, he might actually be under reacting.

Or the tide was still rising.

He felt like razing the whole city to the fucking ground, with his own hands, brick by brick. Or puking. Or screaming until his lungs ripped out of his chest, if only he could move.

It felt like something had reached into his brain and cranked up the contrast, made the already neon brights of the Ghost Zone brighter, the shadows darker, the very air prickling at his skin like needles with the urge to do something.

Because if he moved, did anything, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Not when every muscle ached to tear the whole universe apart.

He was almost a passenger in his own skin as something else, a different, slow boiling rage barely under control clamped him in a vice.

“So y’know we talked about not asking about how ghosts died?” Danny said slowly, his voice suddenly low and hoarse.

Jason managed a stiff nod, every muscle twanging tight with tension. It had been pretty important, pre-Ghost-Zone.

And he could put the pieces together, right from the tight hot center of that ball of rage that he was pretty sure was his own core.

“This is worse,” he said gruffly, not bothering to look over. Didn’t have to, when he could feel the face Danny was pulling through the worry-worry-fear-anger-horror still surrounding him.

He… fuck. He was a little afraid of what he might do, if there was even an ounce of pity on Danny’s face, and honestly that panicked him more than anything else. All the rage wanted was a target, and he didn’t think he’d be able to choose what it was.

Danny nodded anyway, making a conscious effort to try and reign his aura in. Like he couldn’t hear the subtext, feel it in Jason’s, or like he could and didn’t care.

It left him feeling cold, icy and alone, but still relieved under the echoing slam of rage in his veins. A little more alone in his own head. A little less watched. Judged. Not good enough.

“Like, worse than worse, dude. Ghosts will throw down and rip each other apart just for fun and no one’s actually hurt, but… you don’t fuck with somebody’s death. You just don’t. It’s the worst thing you could do to a ghost, worse than Ending them. Not even Pariah Dark…”

“Exactly,” Lady Gotham hissed, baring her teeth in something not even remotely a smile, full cheeks and lips suddenly gaunt and hollow as the teeth became fangs. It lasted barely a moment, a flicker before it faded, but it snapped Jason straight out of his fury with a sudden shock of terror.

She’d been intimidating before. Effortlessly, gracefully powerful and commanding, the kind of person people would beg to step on them without a hint of aggression. Those teeth though… just the moment of that rage, of something so powerful suddenly nothing but raw, feral danger…

It wasn’t even directed at him but it still felt like a bucket of cold water down his spine. An instant urge to duck his head, show his throat, convince this much larger predator that he wasn’t a threat.

She was immediately contrite, turning her head away as her face cast into shadow, only the red pupils still visible.

“My apologies. It is… less personal for me than it is for you, yet it seems still too close to my heart.”

Forcing himself to swallow, Jason took a couple of deep, heavy breaths. The anger was still there, kind of. He could feel it in an almost distant way, past the hammering of his heart, but it wasn’t all he was anymore.

It was just… a feeling now. One he was in control of.

The shadows were just shadows again. The green of the Zone no longer blinding.

He blew the last breath out slowly, and let the remnants of the anger go with it.

“No, uh… it’s fine. I think that helped, actually,” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and suddenly embarrassed at just how tense he’d become.

Justified, apparently, from both the other ghosts’ reactions, but that didn’t mean Jason wanted to feel so out of control. How close to just… being carried away by the anger.

No matter what anyone else said, no matter what the damn Pit or Joker-monster or whatever the fuck else tried to do, Jason Todd was not going to be defined by rage.

For one thing, he’d never live it down.

Danny sagged beside him, relief as tangible as that last breath flowing out of him, despite the core of concern underneath. That was fine; Jason was still concerned too.

And maybe thinking about his stash of ecto-candies again, but he honestly didn’t feel half as drained this time. He wasn’t even scared of Lady Gotham anymore - that moment had ended as soon as it started. As soon as she’d tucked those terrifying needle-like teeth away. Now she just looked…

Proud. Proud, and fond, and so, so sad. Like Alfred had been the first time he presented Jason with his very own Robin suit for the field.

It choked something inside Jason just a little, made his throat tight and breath hitch.

“You are so much more than anyone gives you credit for, Jason Todd,” she said softly, her sclera softening briefly to a bright, sunshine yellow. Like the cape he’d drowned in as a boy flying from her rooftops, “and they all think far better of you than you believe.”

That caught him up for a moment, confusion pulling into the absolute fucking mess of emotions he was pretty sure he was projecting to all and sundry.

Then Danny sighed heavily and draped himself sideways over Jason’s shoulders like a particularly lanky and bony scarf.

“Yeah, yeah, and your ghost mom is fucking terrifying. Did not need that reminder, Ladyship,” he tossed at Lady Gotham with a cheeky wink, effectively steam rolling the tension yet again.

Jason could have kissed him, but from the angle Danny had flopped on, his options were armpit or hip, and neither appealed.

Sassy comebacks, he could handle. Reassurances that people didn’t think he was a complete sack of shit, apparently not.

The whole batfam were just perfect poster kids for mental health, alright?

The Lady herself laughed softly and inclined her head, not arguing the point.

“Of course. Still, I am sorry Jason.”

He cut her off this time, raising both hands and stopping just short of reaching for the back of his neck again, which was about where Danny’s waist was sat.

“Don’t be. I… think I needed to be knocked out of my head there. I really do feel better now,” he added, and Danny huffed a noncommittal noise and ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, well. You’re allowed to be pissed about it,” Danny informed him like he wasn’t sure if Jason actually knew that.

Which, obviously, Jason absolutely wasn’t. He had a pit ghost baby to teach good habits to, and Danny still had no idea what Jason was like when he actually lost control of the anger. But he could appreciate the sentiment.

And deflect like a Robin.

“Oh, is that a royal decree?” He asked archly, and while this noise was no more coherent than the last it was decidedly more whiny and drawn out into wordless protest.

Which still ended in a very quiet “yes.”

Luckily, quiet enough that Jason could pretend he didn’t hear it.

“Anyway, I’m good. Still gonna kick this thing’s ass for messing with my head, and maybe put it in a blender, but for now I’m good. Chill vibes only for Pitty,” he added with a roll of his eyes when Danny made a confused little chirping sound.

Lady Gotham chuckled softly to herself and nodded, resettling herself to recline on her smog clouds once more.

“Indeed. You currently have more pressing concerns; as little as I enjoy the present situation, it can wait. The Curse and I can monitor this new being’s behaviour through the rogues it has affected; they are noticeably becoming more violent, while the Curse is swaying the rest towards being less. For contrast,” she added before Jason could ask.

Which… might actually explain why Riddler had tossed a broken game box at Croc and the Wayne gala rather than trying to fix it. He’d stripped most of the interesting stuff according to Tim’s report, sure, but Nygma never let a thread go.

So he wasn’t gonna be on this new bad guy’s kill list.

Nor would Waylon, and Harley had been more destructive than homicidal for years. Already making a mental list on the events he’d caught wind of in the last few weeks, Jason didn’t even realise the conversation had moved on without him until Danny stuck a wet finger in his ear.

“What the actual fuck!” Jason demanded, trying to shrug the ghost off his shoulders. And while there was deadass no weight to Danny in this form, it was frankly unfair that he just rolled with the movement like he also didn’t have bones, snickering.

“You had Resting Bat Face,” he explained with a grin, twisting upwards to look down at him in a way that actually really shouldn’t have been doable with a human spine - and Jason had grown up around Dick Grayson, who ran the limit of everything a human spine was capable of.

“He does best with a problem to solve,” Lady Gotham noted with a sly amusement. “This one, however, has no time limit as yet. If I thought you would listen, I would have insisted on telling you at a later date.”

And that was just pointed enough that Jason rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush in spite of himself. He just… liked to have all of the information. It’s not like he was Bruce.

“Yeah, well, I like to know what I’m dealing with,” he grumbled, folding his arms and scowling at Danny. Who grinned back and ruffled his hair.

“Well, either way. Not like you need to pull the spandex back on imminently, right? There’s plenty of bats around,” he offered hopefully, and Jason felt a quick pang.

Danny… really didn’t want him to have to be a vigilante. He could taste it in the hope, in the worry, in everything his king was putting off. For some reason, he seemed to think Jason had come back to life and left the masks behind.

Like he hadn’t even thought about why Jason was still in fighting shape to be his fucking knight in the first place.

He knew he’d be annoyed if it was anyone else trying to insist he stay out of the game. He’d shot at Dick more than once for suggesting he go home when he was injured; the rest knew better than to say a word.

He hadn’t even considered giving up the vigilante life when he came back from the dead… except that brief period when he’d sort of been a rogue. He’d never even been a normal crime lord, most of them were way less hands on.

If he looked at the future now, he couldn’t imagine ever giving it up. The rogues would apparently literally always be a problem; the city would always need protectors.

That thought had never made him sad before, and yet…

Was it really the first time anyone had suggested he’d done enough? He’d died, and sure Jason was back now, but Danny seemed to really, actually believe he could stop wearing the mask.

That he’d given enough, given everything, and could and should just have a peaceful life now.

It made him almost ashamed to admit that he’d never even considered the possibility.

For all Jason railed against teen heroes, he’d only stopped being one for a temporary villain arc. Which was apparently at least partially supernaturally motivated, which was fun.

It’d shut Bruce up if Jason ever dragged that out in an argument, but Bruce already thought Jason was too volatile and susceptible to being controlled. Never mind that he hadn’t actually killed the Joker and started the apocalypse or whatever, all Bruce would hear was “someone else made Jason a villain so it could happen again”.

He’d probably try and take Jason off the case of this mystic whatever that was feeding on death. Fuck that noise. Until Bruce got a face to face with Lady G, Jason probably wouldn’t even tell him the details.

(Honestly, if there was even half a chance of avoiding that subject altogether, he’d take it. Bruce got ornery about magic in his city in a way none of the Robins had ever enjoyed dealing with, and that had been back when he and Jason had a good relationship.

Now… well, Constantine had been sticking around, so hopefully he could handle that mess and Jason could just get the actual work done.)

He gave Danny his best reassuring smile anyway, rolling his eyes and reaching to try and ruffle his hair. Found that he actually couldn’t quite reach with the way Danny was twisted around him, which was kinda weird.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard Frostbite. Side effects of the forming core could be pretty much fucking anything, and til Pitty pops out I’m not even gonna do research on anything that’ll set us off.”

Which wasn’t the same as saying he wouldn’t start the case. He could arrange what he already knew, start a plan of action, and organise his next steps without doing any additional research, after all.

Something about Lady Gotham’s delicately arching eyebrow let him know that she, at least, was onto his bullshit. Lucky for Jason, Danny just accepted the words, grinning and twisting around to wrap his whole head in a hug.

And then flowed back off his shoulders like a fucking liquid before Jason could worry about having to breathe.

“That’s great! Oh, and we should set up your haunt too! That’ll help!” Danny enthused brightly, clapping his hands and doing his best impression of a totally solid human that was apparently not his default.

Maybe it was a ghost thing.

Just so long as he never did it in human form, Jason could ignore that he definitely shoulda felt a ribcage being squeezed like that…

And no, Jason absolutely wasn’t wondering about what else Danny could use that noodley flexibility for. Totally not letting Dick know either… for competitive gymnast reasons, definitely.

No one wanted to deal with that.

And then his brain fizzled to a halt as Danny’s actual words penetrated and a sliver of concern slipped in.

Because… yeah. They’d talked about haunts. It was practically the first topic on the list; what to do in someone else’s haunt, what to never ever do even near someone else’s haunt, what a haunt meant to a ghost.

It was soul-underwear again, one of the most sacred parts of a person’s soul; their truest, actual home. Fortress and power source.

Halfas had to have them too, since Danny and Frostbite had both insisted that keeping and maintaining his haunt were going to be vital to his health while his cores stabilized. As in, Frostbite told him not to leave it for long and suggested redecorating as a soothing activity.

(Danny’s was officially Amity Park, which had not escaped Jason’s notice when he was apparently being put on haunt-arrest. It might have been an older halfa thing; very few ghosts actually stayed in their haunts all the time, although Jason could see the temptation.

It also might have been something else, and Jason had this thing about secrets and surprises down the line. He’d ask later, if he couldn’t work it out himself.)

Danny called Crime Alley Jason’s haunt, and that had felt right from the first time he’d said it. Crime Alley was his, his territory, his space, his home more than anywhere else. He knew it inside and out, could feel its moods and taste the changes in the air when something went wrong.

Baby ghosts usually couldn’t claim a haunt of any size as their own, but Jason knew that the Alley belonged to him.

That was before he’d met Lady Gotham. And if she was the spirit of the whole city… maybe he’d been wrong? Maybe it was just through her that he knew it so well?

He found himself looking to her uncertainly, searching her face in case there was any trace of displeasure. Any sign she didn’t want another ghost’s haunt in… well, what was kinda her physical body.

He couldn’t see or feel anything, but when she’d already been so careful about keeping her feelings her own… no better time to ask, really.

“Yeah… about that…” this time he did scratch the back of his neck, Danny safely down beside him. Which was about when he realized that he had no clue how to word the question.

Haunts were personal, he knew that much.

Then again, Lady Gotham said she was his ghost-mom. That had to include stupid questions. Blunt it was.

“Is it weird if I have a haunt in the city? I mean, it’s obviously your city, duh, but how do I… it feels like I’m squatting in your closet,” he said finally, giving up on not being just the most awkward creature in a thousand mile radius.

Danny’s mouth opened and closed a few times, excitement fading to a confused fascination as his words sunk in.

“Y’know, that’s a really good point… except it’s more like he’s squatting in your kidneys,” he pointed out to Lady Gotham, turning to face her too.

Lady Gotham chuckled softly and took a slow drag from her traffic cone, which had almost stopped smoking.

“Ah, I forget the limitations of a halfa’s knowledge… all ghosts begin with a haunt within their parent’s, Jason. From the moment you returned to my arms I opened up the Alley for you, and it has been yours ever since.” She paused to blow out a long plume of smog, which shaped itself into a tiny row of very familiar buildings.

Jason didn’t have to see more than a couple to know what they were; he could feel it right down to his core.

“When you are older, stronger, you may desire another, although being in the mortal world is already a degree of distance, but Crime Alley will always be your first,” Lady Gotham continued as Crime Alley bloomed from the smog before them, tiny and yet more than just an image, more than just a replica; the real thing in the scope of her power.

There were no lights in tiny windows, nothing moving through the smog, and yet it was still clearly alive. No, filled with things that were alive, people and noise and even the rats.

And it was his. His beating heart.

Lady Gotham’s smile was a tender beacon in the fog, her hands coming up to caress the smoking Crime Alley and gently waft it in his direction.

“Every crumbling brick, every pothole, every shadow. It is a heavy responsibility, and one I shall share with you until you decide you no longer need my help, but it will always be yours, Jason. It would not have accepted anyone else.”

The cluster of smoggy buildings fell apart as they reached Jason and for a moment he nearly panicked trying to keep them together, but… he was suddenly washed in a wave of old, familiar scent.

Not the burned rubber and pollution of all the rest of the smogs, the constant smell of the city. This was… floral. Soft, and sweet, and chemical in the way that cheap perfumes always were because they couldn’t have afforded the good ones.

Watered down, because they could get even that so rarely that she would begin refilling the bottle with water when it was barely half empty. Catherine Todd’s favourite perfume.

It hadn’t covered the stink of cigarettes and worse coming from the very walls of their apartment; he’d only smelled it when she was holding him close. Shielding him from Willis’s rage, tucking him into bed, cuddled up on the couch to wait out the rain or sickness.

The smell of home.

It brought tears to his eyes, the pressure of the day threatening to spill over and overwhelm him again.

Intellectually, it felt like another moment that should have been terrifying. More than any show of teeth, this was her strength. Who and what she was, she could break him with a wave of her hand, a wisp of smoke, and yet…

He felt warm. Comforted. Wrapped in her smile and at peace in a way he hadn’t in… fuck it had been years.

There was something else too, a layer under the flowers that only the deepest detective-trained parts of him tried to pluck apart; it was part of the home smell, inextricable, but it didn’t make sense. Wasn’t the perfume. Just the very faintest hint of baking far away, and Catherine Todd had never been able to afford…

Oh.

Of course not. Because Catherine Todd, his mother in every possible sense of the word but one, had never met Alfred.

**

So, the good news: Tucker was currently in the lead for Spiderheck. Bad news: they’d finished the first set (Tim won, but he’d been two ahead from the start which was cheating), and… the game had ticked directly over into another set.

They hadn’t been planning on changing any settings, so it was fine, and Conner and Tim hadn’t noticed anything wrong.

But… Tucker was beginning to worry, just a little. He’d done video games before, with Danny and Sam; no worries, they’d taken a turn directly in pretty much every game they’d played together.

Just, y’know, he knew Danny and Sam really well. And Tim and Conner were really cool, and he understood a lot more about how the Supers worked than he ever had before? But, maybe that was why he’d kinda screwed up.

Because he wanted things to be fair, and didn’t want them to think he’d given himself extra advantages. So they were all spiders, all the same.

And he wasn’t completely sure where the meta controls were?

Danny and Sam always insisted he have a version of the controller somewhere, so they could flick to the menu (and sometimes run riot there too). Last time they did Spiderheck, he’d put the buttons on his stomach, so Danny and Sam could try and hit them for an extra level of difficulty.

But he wanted to be fair. Didn’t want extra powers. And, apparently, technopathy had sorta maybe converted that wish into him not being able to feel it while he was spidered up.

All his combat moves were fine! The break, grab, web commands were smooth and easy, just like every other time he did them. Different attacks, no worries. And, obviously, he hadn’t stood still and tried to look for the code, because they were playing Spiderheck and that was a really easy way to get wiped.

Dodging another swinging attack from Tim, he scuttled at top speed across the platform and jumped behind a box. No weapons here, and he scanned quickly for the next spawn point.

Which, normally, shoulda shown up on two levels; the normal game vision, and the white lined underlay of the code, which he could always see through from top to bottom of the level.

(This was usually an active impediment rather than an advantage in Spiderheck; it was way too hard to know what he could stand on.)

He couldn’t see one, just the platform above and the wall behind.

Maybe he should take an early death, just to give himself a little time to work this out. Just so he could stop worrying. He was 21, he’d had these powers for years, he totally knew how they worked by now.

He just, maybe, might have gotten overconfident.

Danny would never let him live it down if they all had to be rescued from Spiderheck.

And, way more importantly, Tim Drake-Wayne and his super hot boyfriend would only remember him as the loser who couldn’t even control his powers.

Nope. Absolutely not.

A loud buzzing heralded the arrival of one of the spinning laser traps, and Tucker made up his mind. Just one early death. No worries. He had a two win lead, and honestly he’d rather lose the set than admit he’d fucked up.

Scuttling “away” from Tim’s probable next attack, Tucker scurried into the path of the spinning laser trap.

And saw, at the very last second, Conner swinging in from the other side, directly into a laser.

Shit.

**

Sam was comfortably snuggled down into her pillows and thoroughly enjoying the chaos her new chat was creating when she finally heard the door. A little too buried to easily get up, or look particularly graceful doing it, so instead she stuck a hand straight up into the air.

“In here, love!”

And, like the angel of mercy that she was, Val only made her wait ten minutes to get out of all of her winter gear and put the kettle on before coming to save her from her fate.

“Not the fastest rescue I’ve received,” Sam teased, even as Val hauled her easily to her feet. Val grinned back and pulled her in for a quick peck.

“I wasn’t aware I was being timed. I can do better.”

“I bet you can,” Sam laughed, draping her arms around her girlfriend’s shoulders. Val gave her another, deeper kiss, then drew back enough to press their foreheads together.

“So, how was Gotham? I saw Danny made the front page,” she teased back, and Sam hesitated.

In amongst all of their various plans for disaster, it hadn’t really come up that whatever they did at the party, it was sure to make the gossip rags. Front page though? That was probably an achievement.

And, given what she herself had done, really annoying.

“What, they gave the front page to him? I blatantly accused at least two CEOs and Lex Luthor of weaponizing misogyny, with citations, and Danny got the front page?” She huffed, drawing back and folding her arms, fully intent on turning away to sulk, but not remotely objecting when Val’s arms snuck around her waist and pulled her back in.

Val’s chin tucked in over her shoulder and the taller woman snickered.

“I know, right? Sadly cold hard facts just fade away in the face of a scandal.” Val sighed dramatically, then dropped a kiss on the side of Sam’s neck. “You’re on page seven. It’s mostly about your parents, but using Lex’s name got a couple other points in. Oh, and Vicki Vale did a three page piece on how Brucie Wayne specifically upholds the patriarchy. I think she quoted you.”

Sam considered that for a moment, her arms automatically coming around to cover Val’s for a brief squeeze. It wasn’t like she’d actually been planning to change anything at the gala. Mostly she’d just wanted to be heard.

It could be an interesting starting point, though. Especially since she got to pick her outfit for the next gala; her mother hadn’t even specified that it had to be a dress on the document, which was definitely a peace offering.

Cass Wayne had looked really good in that suit.

Her cheeks suddenly hot for absolutely no reason, Sam twisted in Val’s arms to kiss her again.

“I’m sorry my mom’s… the worst,” she finished lamely, wrapping her arms around Val again.

The whole fall-from-grace thing may have been seven years ago, and Val had more than moved on, but. Well. Sam didn’t exactly believe all the scars had healed.

Especially when Val stilled for a moment in her arms.

Then she chuckled, wrapping her arms a littler tighter around Sam and lifting her off her feet.

“Hey, at least she’s not actually a bigot. It’s always nicer to be hated personally than in general, y’know?” She teased, echoing something Sam was pretty sure Danny had said to her back in her Phantom-hunting days.

Sam huffed and wrapped her legs around Val’s waist too, raining kisses down on her face.

“Yeah, well, she can still shove it up her ass. You’re my date for the next gala, if you actually want to come.”

Which.

Well.

Was about when she realized that the next gala was probably going to be extra interesting, after all their shenanigans. Maybe they should have been more discrete? More careful?

Her worry must have shown on her face, because Val gave her a very gentle bounce to shake her out of it.

“Hey. Samantha Manson. I would be delighted to go to the next gala with you, and tell all the little journalists that yeah, I’m that Val,” she said firmly once Sam had refocused on her. Then she grinned. “I’ll even be on my best behaviour and not one up Danny until the second one.”

That made Sam laugh again, hugging on tight even as Val turned and easily carried her through to their little kitchenette and sat her up on one of the counters.

“Hey, did you get that autograph from Harley for me by the way? I wanna send it to my dad for his birthday,” she added, sneaking another kiss and then pulling a pair of mugs next to the steaming kettle.

Sam considered hopping off the counter. Didn’t bother, reaching behind herself instead to pull her favourite tea for the month and drop a bag into her mug.

“Yeah, a couple actually. And she said if we wanna meet Ivy she’ll let us know when they’re back on the west coast, but it won’t be any time soon.” That hadn’t been particularly surprising, but it still made Sam a little sad.

Just another reminder that they were on the outside looking in all the way over here.

Valerie stilled, coming back and resting both hands on Sam’s thighs.

“Do you miss being on the east coast?” She asked quietly, those gorgeous green eyes so large and gentle.

Sam hesitated a moment longer, then sighed and let her head thunk back against the cupboard behind her.

“Honestly, I think I just miss being closer to everyone. It’s not far for Danny with the Zone, but if you or I wanna visit anyone we have to hop on an airplane or spend weeks driving, neither of which are good for the environment. We just… get forgotten out here, stuck out of the loop.”

Val raised an eyebrow, a smirk on her face but eyes still soft with understanding.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk. I thought I’d pick up a new phone and rejoin the group chat that day, but suddenly I gotta wait nearly a week for “new secrets”,” she teased and Sam sighed, shaking her head. Not quite able to lift all the way out of her funk.

“Yeah, I know… it probably woulda been fine, Danny shouldn’t have dropped anything at all in the main chat if he didn’t want everyone to see it, I just…”

“Wanted to be more sensitive than he is,” Val finished the sentence, leaning in for another kiss. Not needing to reach up even with Sam sat on the counter. “That’s why I’m still dating you.”

It did pull a smile from Sam anyway and she draped her arms over her girlfriend’s shoulders again.

“For some reason. So, what did you think?”

Val shrugged, her hands sliding up to settle around Sam’s waist.

“About a new halfa? Probably sucks for him. Especially when he’s gotta come out as dead to his family. The Waynes aren’t exactly known for being stable,” she pointed out when Sam snickered.

Which was a fair point.

“They’re actually worse when there’s more of them,” she mused, glancing back towards the bed where she’d left her phone, “and the oldest’s a cop now.”

This time it was Val’s turn to snicker.

“Yeah, I heard. Tuck already sent me the blow by blow of you eviscerating the poor guy.”

Sam preened. Deservedly.

“Hey, you know me, I’m not gonna play nice just cuz I’ve been dragged to some social function.”

The snicker turned to a chuckle as Val leaned in, rubbing their noses together.

“And you know me, baby girl, ACAB all the way, and I still think that should extend to the Justice League. Heard half of Batman Inc also showed up, did you let them have it too?”

“You know I did,” Sam purred, locking her ankles behind Val’s back and nipping playfully at her lower lip. Val laughed, her hands creeping slowly up the small of Sam’s back.

“That’s my little leopard. Tea’s done.” And then, totally unfairly, she reached back with one hand and pulled Sam’s ankles apart, slipping free with a laugh as Sam pouted. “Hey, you’d be more upset if I let it over steep.”

“I can make more tea,” Sam grumbled, finally slipping off the counter, but a rebellious smile made it onto her face anyway. Val toasted her with the french press.

“True that, darling, but I’m not wasting the good coffee beans. Daddy asked me four times if I was sure about taking the train but honestly, he’s a state away now, it’s not worth a flight.”

Setting her teabag aside, Sam squirted in some vanilla agave syrup and took a deep breath. Gotham was fine, but no hotels could match her home tea stash. Not even the Waynes could.

“Beautiful, strong, environmentally conscious, and a Daddy’s girl. How did I land you again?” She asked innocently as Val dropped creamer into her own mug.

“By being all of those but the last one,” Val countered easily, taking a mug and holding an arm out for Sam to tuck under. “Now c’mon, if I’m going to the next gala you need to tell me allllll about a certain cutie Cassandra Wayne,” she cooed, making for their couch.

Sam’s face flushed red and she made to duck away instantly, but those damn vigilante muscles made it so hard.

“Okay, veto, you’re not allowed to do that anymore! My mom is trying to hook me up with her!” Sam did not whine. She. Protested. With dignity. Totally no idea why Val snickered, holding her coffee up and away in her other arm.

“Yeah, that’s the point. How funny would it be if Danny and I both stole a Wayne from you?” She asked with a vicious grin.

Which… did make Sam pause. Because that would be really funny. And Cass would almost certainly be down for it; she wasn’t as loud or attention seeking as any of the boys, but Sam could recognize the wicked gleam in anyones’ eyes when they enjoyed the chaos.

Then she sighed.

“No, we have to be good for the next gala. Otherwise no one’s going to listen to what I actually have to say.”

Val hummed an agreement, guiding her to sit on the plush, well loved cushions. It was an old couch, and a hand-me-down from Sam’s work, but it was just too good to pass up. They could both lie comfortably side by side on the seat, if they snuggled just a little, and the back was wide and plush enough for two throws.

“Okay. The gala after that, then. It’ll make our slow burn long distance romance all the more compelling,” she added when Sam snorted, finally releasing Sam to sink comfortably into oblivion.

Sam swatted at her and put her tea down on the table.

“You’re dreadful. I love you. We’ll ask Cass, lemme just get my phone and I’ll hook you into the group chat with her, Steph, and Babs. They’re Wayne family friends,” she added at Val’s questioning noise, “I haven’t met Babs yet, but Steph is great. You’re gonna love her.”

“Only if we’re going for some three’s company action,” Val snickered as Sam jogged to the bedroom, flipping her girlfriend off as she went.

**

Jason was quiet as they left the Zone. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, especially after the day he’d had and the emotional whiplash.

Danny was doing his very best not to let it bother him. He remembered the early days of being a halfa, how much he’d second-guessed himself, how much every new change and discovery had rocked his world. And he’d been a teenager, all hormones and fire and energy.

He hadn’t even been dead a month before shit got weird.

Jason was twenty-two, and had already been dead for almost seven years. Danny’d like to think he’d found ways to cope, but seven years in himself he was pretty sure he still hadn’t.

Whatever Jason had dealt with in those six and a half years was being ripped up in front of him day by day.

If there was anything he wanted, anything he needed, Danny would be there for him in a heartbeat. Before he could even have to ask, if possible. Aaaand the only thing he couldn’t do that for was if Jason needed space.

Lady Gotham had been able to open them a portal directly into Jason’s apartment; Danny preferred to aim high enough to miss walls and buildings on the way back, but it was her city. She knew exactly where everything and anything was - the portal had been in the back of Jason’s front door.

Danny totally wasn’t jealous. He could come back out almost at the same place he’d gone in, if he was quick. And he could go intangible anyway.

It was still really cool to watch the city spirit do it, the way the realms opened easily and willingly at her touch. She’d given Jason a token, a coin that had to be at least six hundred years old that showed the city’s skyline. Apparently he could use it to get in touch with her, or get back to the Zone on his own if Danny couldn’t take him.

Danny was fine with that. For sure.

The Infinite Realms were dangerous, but the token should bring him straight to Lady Gotham, in an emergency. And then Danny could follow and find her, and find Jason. It was a super reasonable backup plan.

He still found himself hovering in the doorway, unsure if Jason wanted him to stay or go while the other man shrugged out of his coat, boots, and shoulder holster that Danny had totally missed this entire time. And then walked directly into the bathroom.

Danny hovered a little closer, entirely unknowing what exactly he’d do if Jason was crying. Or screaming. Or beating a hole in the wall away from prying eyes. Or, actually using the bathroom for its intended purpose, apparently.

Because Danny forgot Jason was still in mandatory human form at all times.

He couldn’t hear anything from inside the bathroom with the door shut anyway, not even movement or the sink running. But then again, Jason’s family knew Superman personally. That probably lead to some inside jokes and really specific precautions.

Danny hovered back to the door. Stared around at the incredibly clean, well organized display of video games and weaponry on the walls, the double shelf of books.

This, he was beginning to suspect, was a third, larger, more expensive apartment. The furniture and room layouts were about the same, but he was like 80% sure the apartment they’d played MarioKart in hadn’t had as much stuff.

This one had some dishes waiting by the sink though. Given how well organized everything else was, they stuck out.

…

Five minutes. Jason was still in the bathroom.

Danny hated waiting. If he was going to stick around, he could justify it by helping out. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

———————

Part two imminent! All my love to the tag list, you’ll be following the link on this one so you don’t get both separately

Part 2:

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop p @mayoota-blog @xysidhe e @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper r @bun-fish @aroranorth-west  @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking g @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor r @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 8 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf f @frivolous-pastel

[beezonia]

Reign Of Mouserink

Chapter 1 - Mouserink’s origin

[Warnings: Mentions of smoking and a few mentions of ways to die]

Thoughts are in italic!

———

Long ago, in a far away place lived a mouse. Now this mouse was like no other, her smarts and wit made sure of that.

She gained the mouse king’s approval along with his wife, becoming their most trusted right hand.

The mouse was cold to most, her heart thawed for her king and his wife. Along with their soon to be son.

A small dormouse, who scurried after her master, fulfilling his every wish no matter how big or small it was.

She grows tired with each passing day, her master piling more and more work upon those small shoulders.

He even tasks her with looking after his son in his stead. The Queen long gone, she died mysteriously leaving them a broken court and family.

Until one day she decides she’s had enough. She wants to be in his place, she wants the power.

This dormouse wanted to be queen. She’d stop at nothing to get it, even if it meant treason.

Queen Mouserink would rise once more.

———

If it had been up to her, she would have retired.

Retired and gone somewhere far, far away from Paris. Far away from the people who held her heart.

That did not happen, she’s stuck in the godforsaken city, with those godforsaken people who know how to push her buttons each and every hour of the day!

It’s such a supposedly wonderful life. Not!

Yet she finds comfort in the beer garden she and her friends frequent on weekends. The clouds of smoke fill her lungs as she takes small, shallow breaths.

Not like she was going to die if her lungs coiled themselves together and choked her.

Her friends taking drags of cigarettes as they drone on and on about the latest office gossip.

Yet she was hurting on the inside, swallowing shot after shot after shot.

Nathalie Sancoeur was dying inside, and no one seemed to actually care.

No one cared about her bones breaking and shifting into indescribable pain each time she moved.

No one cared that she was slowly loosing her mind, insanity grasping her throat, silently choking her with each passing day.

Oh well, she’d survived this long. What more was another year?

But little did Nathalie know, her fate was about to take a turn.

For worse or for better, well that was up to her, the oh so obedient dormouse.

——-

“Nathalie, reschedule my 3o’clock with Mr Blanchett. I have more pressing matters too attend to.”

Said woman murmurs a quiet “Yes sir” in response, she can’t not say no. Even if this meeting was important, Gabriel Agreste had more pressing matters too attend to and that was that.

A personal assistant is what she was, following his every beck and call till she was about to collapse.

But, she can’t complain it was her choice to follow them into this world. Her choice to love them no matter what happened.

I Regret it.

Nathalie gets back to her emails, constructing different responses for different scenarios. The click clack of the keyboard being her only comfort.

She sits at her desk a thin straight line plastered on her face, as sapphire eyes bore into the screen.

Nathalie can’t remember the last time she actually enjoyed her life, her job or her fucking self.

Oh no, wait the last time she enjoyed herself was when she was about to jump of a cliff in Greece! That was around, what, 10 years ago when she last went on holiday.

Jeeez she really was fucked.

———

There’s an unusual box sat on her coffee table. Nathalie thinks it might just be a hallucination (she is extremely sleep deprived)

It’s wooden, red patterns adorne it.

Beautiful markings, it almost makes her miss seeing those precious artefacts for the first time (oh how she smiled when she discovered something new)

But Nathalie is also about to scream, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKKKK?!

How the hell did someone manage to break into her apartment without breaking half of the shit she kept in here?! How did someone know where she lived?!

God this was just going to make life harder and make her more likely to want to retire early.

FUCKKKK!!

Well Nathalie knew at some point her curiosity was going to get the better of her, head softly persuading the woman to take her bony fingers and open that goddam box.

That’s exactly what she did. (At around midnight because her brain just loves to make her suffer)

Fucking hell the bright light makes her squint. Makes her recoil backwards into her couch, the large crack coming from her back was not a good sign.

Nathalie regrets opening the box now, because she has no clue what the fuck is happening and what’s going to happen.

Isn’t that how all stories start though?

———

So now the little dormouse had found the key to her freedom.

She spends hours and hours plotting and plotting, getting the king to force his hand was going to be slightly harder then she thought.

Mouserink needed more mice.

She needed the Guild Of Mouserink to make it’s grand entrance once more.

———

ITS HERE!!

Thank you for reaching the end, I hope you enjoy the journey of both Nathalie and the little dormouse!

I’ll post this on ao3 maybe if people would like it to be there! But if you like my au please share and give it a like!

———

[bobaandasiandramas]

I decided to choose one for the 50 kisses challenge. Enjoy!

1. Small kisses littered across the other’s face. - Hoseok 

She sat outside under the giant tree in the middle of the garden, the sun kissing her skin warm. Her notes were strewn around her - red markings decorated the sides of the sheets. Thankfully it wasn’t a windy day or her pages would be all over the yard. A frown graced her features as she found yet another grammatical error. She needed to stop letting the boys distract her while she was writing up her work. 

The temptation of ripping up her work was starting to get the best of her. At this rate it was almost better to just restart the entire proposal. She felt the tears start to well up in her eyes and she used her hand to wipe any threats of spillage away. Quickly she gathered her pages and put them in a pile next to her before laying down in the grass. Maybe a small nap would have her brain refreshed.  

The warm rays made her feel cozy in the soft grass, the tree above her giving just enough shade to make a nap easier for her. Breathing deeply she allowed her body to relax fully and turned her mind off. All her racing thoughts could bother her later when she was more well-rested. 

He spied her from his balcony, a smile gracing his face as he finally found her. She must have needed to get away from the ruckus of them. He almost felt bad knowing that they constantly distracted her from her job but couldn’t help it, knowing that every time they did she was shining her brightest smile at them all. 

He took his time making his way to the gardens, checking in on each of his brothers first. Once he was satisfied with his curiosity, he stopped in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. His leisurely stroll from his room to the giant tree in the garden took him about forty minutes total. 

She was peacefully sleeping in front of him. He stared at her for a few moments, soaking in the beauty of her. It was rare that she wasn’t bouncing around busy with work. To see her relaxed like this made him happy. He was often worried about her well-being. 

He decided to let her rest a little while longer and took the spot next to her. The wind blew gently against his cheek and he turned to face her. A piece of her hair brushed over her face in the breeze and he took the opportunity to move it for her. He enjoyed the view in front of him; she looked so peaceful. He couldn’t help it, a moment later he was pressing soft kisses to her cheeks and chin, then to her forehead. 

She crinkled her nose at the feeling of light brushing on her face and opened her eyes to see Hoseok centimeters away, his lips brushing her face all over. Her cheeks heated as she tried to turn away. “Hosseeeok, stop that tickles a little.” She giggled out. 

He pulled back and looked at her. “I’m highly enjoying it.” Diving back in he rolled his body over hers and attacked with more kisses. 

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Currently watching - July

Because I love a good little list 😊

Regularly updated during the month - colored = finished

KinnPorsche (14/14)

Mafia meets Crime meets Thriller meets RomCom meets Drama meets College-BL and a bloody huge pile of drivel about trust and than breaking said trust. And yes still obsessing over it. What are we all going to do when the series is over? (Well, for me see below)

10 out of 10 guns

Love Mechanics (8/10)

My new obsession. I can feel my thoughts becoming more and more taken up with Vee and Mark and if anyone hurts Mark, I crawl into my screen and hurt that person. It is a college-BL, but with a tougher story (cheating) and a lot of pain and angst and a perfect War for those scenes. He’s doing so well!

My secret love (9/12)

A sweet college-BL with a little bit of cringe about a forced BL-couple. Can something serious grow out of such a farce? Oh and we have a secret established couple who is dealing with their own problems.  

Star and Sky: Sky in your heart (8/8)

A grown-up BL in the mountains about a sweet and cute teacher and an outwardly arrogant but warm-hearted doctor with a lot of heart eyes and second-hand embarrassment (at least for me).

7 out of 10 crowns

Old Fashion Cupcake (5/5)

So good!!! Watch it!!! It is everything! A work BL about a boss and his subordinate who helps the older one to find fun in life again with a lot of sweets! It is a short series with only five episodes – give it a try!

10 out of 10 desserts

Senpai, Danjite Koidewa! (6/8)

Another little gem from Japan about love in the workplace. Also very cute and fun to watch.

DNA says love you (12/12)

What a beautiful story! I love everyone's journey to finally find their true self, to finally have the courage to be honest with others and with themselfes. Highly recommend to watch this (have some tissues ready).

10 out of 10 destinies

Vice Versa (3/12)

Different parallel universe? Jimmy in suspenders? Count me in. Interesting color concept. I like the dynamic of the characters.

Coffee Melody (2/10)

It is almost as sweet as my coffee in the mornings, almost a little bit too sweet, but I like that they flirt openly with each other.

Check Out (8/12)

I'd like to slap Nine through the screen every episode and the screenwriters too. But at this point just a comedy for me. I don't take it seriously and have a blast with every messy scene they thought it should be in this...

Unforgotten Night (6/12)

Hell yeah! And with hell I literally mean hell! This is a very special series whose depiction of a whip-wielding “dom” will never leave my memory. If you like trash, go for it!

Mama Gogo (2/10)

There are too many series on the side to satisfy my need for second-hand embarrassment that I've neglected Mama Gogo a bit. There are sexy dancing men...so I will definitely keep watching.

Dark Blue and Moonlight (5/12)

Still on episode 3…is this a sign? Perhaps, perhaps not. I don’t have a problem with cheating in shows, but this is something else…and I am on episode 3!

That’s my candy (6/6)

I DID IT!!!! I finished this...well I finished it. I think it was aweful. Perhaps I didn't understand it? I don't know. I couldn't find the story, I always got confused with the time and if it was a dream or reality or part of the filming, and the chatacters weren't likable and hadn't any chemistry. If you like it, good for you ☺️ this is just my personal opinion.

2 out of 10 candy

Minato Shouji Coin Laundry (5/12)

The story of a coin laundry owner becoming friends with a high-school student and we have to wait where this is going. Well acted and kind of cute so far.

I promised you the moon (1/5)

I am really angsty about this. Who knows when and if I find the courage to watch the next episode...

Triage (13/13)

First I thought, well another hospital series, but it is so much more! Thriller meets science fiction/mystery meets romance. It was so good! Angsty and fluffy and tense and with a lot of twists and turns and it was never boring! Highly recommended!

10 out of 10 time loops

Because of you (10/10)

Not what I expected 😅 and not mad about it! Just three brothers and their journey to finally accept love and to be loved, I guess?

7,5 out of 10 Yuan Juns

He She It (3/3)

Interesting idea. You need to watch all three episodes to get the whole picture.

7,5 out of 10 plot twists

Something crunchy, crunchy

That was something else! But I loved the idea and the execution. There is a lot of singing and they can sing (at least in my opinion). It was really interesting.

9 out of 10 snacks

Smoke

That was harsh and brutal for my emotions.

7 out of 10 cigarettes

Boy meets boy

Couldn't warm up to the story, or rather to its execution. Not bad, but just not my cup of tea.

6 out of 10 baseball caps

Love Class (6/6)

Well, I didn't hate it, but I didn't love it either. I think Namjun crossed the line many times which really got on my nerves. The story felt a little bit rushed in the end, but it only had six episodes so they needed to deal with that, I guess. And I guess they wanted to tell too much in this short amount of time and scratched just the surface of everything...

7 out of 10 lines crossed

Rainbow Lagoon (2/2)

A very short, but sweet bl far away the big city with an enemies to friends to lovers trope. It handles the topics quite well for the short amount of time and feels kind of realistic doing so. What I like is, that it doesn't try to be something different than it is, which is part of its charm. It is free on Youtube so give it a try.

8 out of 10 pedal boat rides

History 1: My hero

I do like the ending. Kind of missed the grieving. But Aaron Lai is in it and is doing a good job.

6,5 out of 10 journals

History 1: Stay away from me

The best one out of the first series in my opinion. The story was cute (I don't have a problem with the step brother trope) and the chemistry was there. I really had a good time.

8 out of ten pots

History 1: Obsessed

Well I am not obsessed with this one. Some parts were hard to watch. I really disliked Jiang Jin Teng. The whole dynamic was toxic af and I it is just a meh from me.

5 out of 10 destroyed futures

Meet me outside

This was sweet...sometimes a little bit too sweet, but that is just my problem right now. It was quite a good and short watch. At times I thought Dale was a little bit too hasty.

7 out of 10 wine bottles

The Four Vampires

Just a short movie about four vampires and their struggle with not being able to end their existence.

7,5 out of 10 fangs

Hurt

A short film about doing something terrible and have to deal with the consequences, but also about the meaning of love and commitment.

9 out of 10 tears

Secret roommate

And another short film this time about a couple which has to pretend to be just rommates. Entertaining and quite cute.

7,5 out of 10 toothbrushes

Sotus (15/15)

Well, I guess I needed a good old college bl with a good old cold male lead. Really liked it. Got a little bit annoyed by Kong, but it was still tolerable.

8 out of 10 omlettes

What I'm looking forward to in July:

Oh! My sunshine nights (4th July)

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 4 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hawks had gone on an early morning flight the following day, before you had stirred from sleep, leaving you alone in the cabin for the first time.

He was reaching the apex of his rut. The cabin was beginning to feel like the inside of an oven. That was great for keeping his mate warm, but not so great for him in his current state, where he felt like he was roasting alive.

Outside, the winds were cold, almost punishingly so. Under normal conditions, he would have been wrapped up in his fur coat. However, now, he was wearing a loose T-shirt more suited for summer, baggy cargo pants and military boots.

He took off into the sky, soaring at great speeds that would make him near impossible to see with the naked eye, assuming anyone was actually around to spot him in the first place.

He'd soar up high, then let himself descend in a tumbling spiral, then catch his fall above the trees and rocket between the branches, sometimes letting the bottoms of his boots skim the trees to shake the snow off.

He always loved the feeling of the wind through his feathers; but, the sensation was more intense during his rut. While pain receptors didn't exist in his feathers in the same manner as his flesh and bones, he could still process feeling.

During his rut, feeling was intensified in his wings. He almost thought he could breathe the air through his feathers. Perhaps, it was why he felt so unbearably warm, why your touch had reduced him to a blabbering animal.

It was difficult to resist the desire to bring you with him on his flights, to hold you against his chest and feel your body clinging to him while he descended.

It was exciting to think about what kind of noises you would make. He hoped that you would find it exhilarating. He wanted to feel your heartbeat thundering away from the rush, to see red tinting your cheeks and tears in your eyes.

Instead, Hawks floated alone and let the late winter air bite away at his skin while the winds brushed along his feathers. It was soothing more so than chilling. Despite how unfitting his clothes was for the weather, not even the tips of his fingers felt cold.

The winter breeze had relaxed him, but not for long. Despite the obvious chill in the air, Hawks was still sporting a painful erection. He avoided touching it, knowing full well that masturbation was pointless. Enduring this alone for years taught him that it would likely only irritate him further.

You were here, you were safe, you were his, you wanted to be here, you wanted him. Your scent was all over the nest and his bite mark was a heavy eyesore on your throat. There wasn't another human for miles. But, despite the obvious fact that there was no reason for him to feel uneasy, his nature wouldn't allow him to rest.

His rational side wanted to let you relax, to give you some reprieve from him, from what he did to you and intended to do again. The beast, however, clawing under his skin, wanted to have you again.

Hawks flew some, and then some more, letting time slip away, until he was agitated to the point that his hands were digging into his outer thighs, nails threatening to rip his clothes.

Snow began to fall on his way back to the cabin, and the gentle wind hurled it to and fro. He could feel the soft droplets fluttering against his skin. The snow felt cold, of course, but he didn't really process it. All he could think about was getting back to you.

When he crossed the threshold, it was like entering another world. The outside whistled with the harsh wind and kicked snow inside, suddenly silenced when he slammed the door. He felt the sudden security of being in his nest, enclosed, private, safe, where it smelt like freshly cut logs and you.

As Hawks stepped into the living room, he realized that you had migrated away from the bed, likely due to the cold. You had brought some blankets and pillows over and haphazardly arranged them in front of the fireplace. You had even dug a rolled-up futon out of the supply closet to pile the bedding on top of. He had forgotten that was even in there.

His boots thumped against the wood floor as he walked, catching your attention. You peered up at him, your eyes failing to mask your excitement at his return.

At a glance, Hawks could see that you had showered while he was away. Your hair was clean, just a tiny bit damp at the ends. As he got closer, he could faintly catch a whiff of the well water that fed into to the cabin lingering on your skin.

It was only natural that you would want to clean off after what he had done to you the past couple days. Hawks was well aware of that and was trying to remain calm about the whole situation; but, the truth was, he was annoyed by your actions.

You had washed him away.

Of course, that could easily be remedied.

Hawks advanced towards you, mindful to not step on the blankets with his boots, to not dirty the nest you made. He lowered onto his haunches first, taking in the sight of you, the sight of the bedding you had arranged without him. You had slipped on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, not suitable for the weather, but suitable for him. Like this, your body was very accessible, that much was certain.

"I made breakfast, if you're hungry?" you offered, clearly not at all perturbed by his looming and staring. He didn't look annoyed, but oddly intrigued, maybe even flattered by your behavior.

"You have snow in your hair," you observed, smiling at the sight of pale white crystals caught in his blonde locks. You leaned up and reached for him, carefully tousling his hair to shake the snow free.

He waited until you were done preening him and suddenly jerked forward, pushing you onto your back with his torso. He followed with you, knees pinning you beneath him, one falling between your thighs.

When you peered up at him, unperturbed by his behavior, Hawks' gold eyes narrowed and his fangs bared. A sound that you didn't know he was capable of making snarled from behind his teeth and echoed around the room.

It was a growl, not like anything you had heard from a dog, or any animal, really. You didn't know that he could make noises like that. It seemed unfitting for the calm, polite hero that you knew so well. Then again, he had warned you about this.

Maybe, this whole experience was doing something to you, changing you; or, more likely, he was helping you discover things about yourself you never knew existed.

The growl didn't frighten you at all. It made you tremble with excitement, made your skin prickle with goosebumps and heart flutter, made wetness pool between your legs.

Spurred on by him, maybe wanting to rattle the beast's cage a little, you decided to be daring. You lifted a leg, pressed your foot against his chest, and pushed against him. Of course, he didn't budge at all. He was much stronger than you normally, and especially unwavering in this state of mind.

"Take off your clothes," you requested, trying your damn best to sound powerful, unyielding. You sounded firm, sure, but you didn't sound as strong as you wanted to, maybe not strong enough to coerce a beast.

Yet, Hawks' gaze softened, surprising you. He had told you he wanted you to be yourself, to not succumb to his every emotion. It kept him grounded, reminded him that you were here of your own free will, because you wanted to be. Your demand sobered him.

"Whatever you want," he uttered, sultry and low, and it made you tremble with excited goosebumps.

He leaned back, rising to his feet, and began shucking off his clothes in record time. His boots hit the floor noisily before he fumbled with his belt, having it barely undone before it was dragged down his hips by his pants.

He wasn't wearing underwear, you realized, as he shucked his pants off his feet. He lifted his arms and tugged his shirt over his head. The fabric hit the floor and, rather than throwing himself on top of you, Hawks remained standing.

His wings were spread out behind him, crimson feathers bright and imposing. His gold eyes were vibrant, staring you down like a predator seconds away from laying claim to its prey.

However, it didn't go unnoticed to you that he was standing there to allow you to appraise him, as if you had never laid eyes upon his nudity before.

Despite the cold, he had a faint sheen of sweat that was glistening in the light coming from the fireplace, outlining taut abdominal muscles. He hadn't eaten much since his arrival, and that much was obvious by the exaggerated tightness around his core, muscles more enhanced than you had ever seen before.

It felt almost shameful to stare at his crotch, but it was damn near impossible to not admire the heavy cock between his thighs. It was a sight to behold, just like the rest of him. The trail of pale blonde pubes leading from beneath his belly button was practically begging you to stare.

Still, you dragged your gaze back up at his face, where he looked surprisingly anxious, as if there a chance in hell you would tell him no. Sometimes, it was astonishing to think that someone so beautiful could have an ounce of self-doubt. But, he did. Even if he managed to hide it well, you could always spot it, the fear of not being good enough.

"Keigo," you uttered, voice sounding weak over the sound of the crackling fireplace.

Your arms lifted, hands reaching out for him, beckoning him into an embrace. You blinked and suddenly, he was on top of you, torso ushering you back into the sheets while his hands clawed at your shorts, dragging them down your legs.

Hawks panted into your neck, nails biting at the fleshy meat of your thighs as he tried to will himself to calm down. He was being nonsensical. You had been together for a while now. He had fucked you in every position he could possibly think of, held you at night when he could and kissed your mouth like you were his.

Because you were. Yet, despite all that, he felt so pleased that you still chose him, again.

When your hands slid over his shoulders and felt the burning heat of his skin, you felt a tinge of guilt at his state. Deliriously, you wanted to take care of him, to be able to give him everything he needed.

One hand cradling the back of his neck, you pulled him up until his face came into view and you kissed at the corner of his mouth. Encouraged, he followed, tilting his head to capture your lips in a proper kiss.

You felt his shoulders relax as his body slid atop yours, legs tangled and torsos coming together. His hands released your thighs, opting to slide up your sides, beneath your shirt and along the expansion of your ribs, where the pads of his fingers traced the outlines of your bones.

Despite the insistent, throbbing erection trapped against your thigh, burning hot like forged iron, his kisses were gentle, ushering your mouth open to accept his tongue. He kissed you like he had forgotten what your mouth tasted like, tongue slotting over yours eagerly, moaning into the kiss senselessly.

After sometime, you pushed back against his chest until he finally got the message and pulled back from your lips. You tried not to laugh at the childishly irritated scowl on his face, his expression silently reprimanding you for stopping him.

"Lay down," you urged. "I wanna touch you."

"Don't need any more teasing, babe," he protested weakly.

Still, despite his protest, you nudged him pleadingly. Hawks groaned like you had struck him, but complied and began rolling over, bringing you above him.

You watched his wings flex and fan out comfortably beneath him, spread out across the sheets like twin, elegant blankets, mindful of the fireplace. He propped his back up with some pillows, giving him just enough leverage to lean up a little, but not quite in a seated position.

As Hawks got situated, you tweaked one of his nipples between your fingers. He yelped at the touch, shoulders twitching and wings shuddering faintly beneath him. Your hand was ripped away by a grip at the wrist; but, you couldn't hold back a smile as he glared up at you.

That glare disappeared off his face when you started wiggling down his lap. Of course he knew what was coming, especially when you cupped his weeping cock and tenderly lifted it off his abdomen. Yet, excitement clawed up his spine as if he was sincerely surprised.

He hardly registered your tongue lapping at the swollen tip, where he was sticky with precum. He did, however, painfully so, notice when you sank down, enveloping his length in your hot mouth.

For a moment, you just held him against your tongue, reveling in the salty taste and moaning when you felt him throb. You slid up to the tip, failing to notice how tense the rest of him was, back arched and staring down at you intensely, muscles tight from head to toe. When you sank back down, tightening your mouth around his shaft, Hawks cried out suddenly.

His loudness startled you more so than the sudden gush of his seed. His hands grabbed at the bedding. In the corner of your eye, you could see his feathers shuddering beneath him.

Hawks' cock throbbed with each spurt, heavy where it rested against your lax tongue. He was deep enough that his seed spilled right down your throat. You relaxed and swallowed it carefully, cheeks tinted red as Hawks whined above you.

When he came down from his high, he was still impossibly hard, throbbing against your tongue as if he hadn't come at all. You began bobbing your head, excited at the thought of getting him to come again. However, his hands suddenly flew up, grabbed at your cheeks and pulled you off.

You hadn't expected that, resulting in a wet pop and a string of saliva dangling between your drooping bottom lip and his member. Hawks stared for a moment, almost in disbelief at the sight, like something taken straight out of a porno, and not reality.

"God, you look so fucking naughty," he snarled, dragging your face in towards his, forcing you to arch over him. "Dirty fucking girl, aren't you?"

His tongue lapped against your bottom lip, catching your dripping saliva, before entering your mouth without preamble. The wet organ thrashed around senselessly, enjoying the taste of himself on your mouth. After a few seconds, he pulled back with a growl and dragged your shirt up, forcing your arms above your head to free you from the garment.

"Keigo, let me-" you whined.

"Be good," he silenced you in a gentle, albeit commanding, voice.

The world flipped when he spun you back around and your back hit the bedding. His wings fanned out above the two of you, beat against the air once, and flexed, plumes spread out majestically.

"I wanna touch you more," you protested, fingers weaving through his hair with dangerous intent. You gently dug the pads of your fingers into his scalp and watched his head lull from the pleasure, eyes fluttering shut.

"That's not being good," Hawks commented with a groan, making no immediate movement to stop you.

"I wasn't done," you retorted, leaning up to drag your cheek against the stubble on his jaw. You couldn't hold back a shudder at the sensation, soft yet rough hair dragging against your skin.

"Fuck," the winged hero growled, eyes opening to take you in with a faint glare.

Your felt a wandering hand smack gently against your inner thigh, forcing your legs to spread to give him space to settle between them. A digit suddenly grazed your slit, circling your entrance to gather wetness before slipping inside.

It was almost laughable to think he had gone out into the snow to cool off; yet, the heat of your core was tantalizing, so inviting that the touch alone threatened to undo him. You were already slippery and when he effortlessly sought out your sweet spot, you mewled.

Hawks groaned like you had wounded him, the sound practically vibrating from his throat and traveling through him onto you. He tilted his head to nibble at your jaw, breath hot enough to burn your skin where he exhaled against you.

"You're ready for me," Hawks commented lowly, driving his finger inside until his knuckles brushed your folds. "Did you like the taste of my cock that much? -my cum? Feel this - fuck. You're begging for it."

"You're begging for it," you retorted softly, hands carefully untangling from his hair and sliding down to cup his face. You pulled him back, away from your neck, so you could look into his eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed in a low sigh, forehead bumping against yours just a little too roughly. "Want you so fucking bad."

"How bad?" you hummed encouragingly, hiking your legs up on his waist to pull him in.

His finger slipped free, hands shifting to slide over your hips, dragging you into a place more to his liking, pinned beneath him, where you were helpless to much more than squirm. You hiked your legs up on his hips, groaning when he humped at your core, causing his cock to drag against your folds.

"Kinda hurts, if I'm being honest," Hawks groaned out lowly.

"I'll take care of you," you promised, blinking slowly as you stared back at his vibrant gold eyes.

"Yeah?" he uttered weakly. "I can just-"

His tip prodded at your entrance and Hawks cut off, moaning in a wounded manner that had your head spinning. You had seen him get pent-up and frustrated before, after week long missions and months apart; but, he never sounded quite like this.

"Yes," you whispered back harshly.

With a shift of his hips, he was suddenly buried inside you. The sudden intrusion wasn't as startling as the loud noise that escaped Hawks. He shuddered above you, crying out, wings flexing and beating the air, driving him down against you.

"Oh, fuck, Keigo," you whined, realizing he had finished the moment he slipped inside.

His cock throbbed as if to remind you that he wasn't done yet. There was a wet squelch as he slipped out and rammed back inside, nearly drowned out by a guttural, "f-fuck", that he breathed against your neck.

He thrusted a few times, rough rolls of his hips, forcing your walls to accommodate his girth. You couldn't hold back a weak groan. As prepared as you might have been, it was inevitable that there would always be some strain to take him.

Hawks must have assumed that he was taking you too hard, for he slowed down, uttering a weak, "s-sorry."

Yet, the dissatisfaction from his slow pace was far worse than the slight ache when he took it too fast. You didn't want it slow and soft. The last couple days had you wound up, prepared for the promised, carnal passion. You wanted him to fuck you like his life depended on it.

"No," you hissed out, trying to angle your hips up to bring him in harder, fast. "God - no - Keigo, harder-"

With a faint growl, he obeyed that command, the sudden hard roll of the hips forcing you to break off into a loud cry.

"Babe, I'm gonna lose it if you talk like that," he warned, words throaty and rough where they breathed against your skin.

You worked one hand into his hair while the other grabbed at his back, nails biting deliciously into his skin, holding him close, forcing your bodies together.

"I want you to," you uttered between broken moans that he forced out of you with his cock.

Hawks uttered your name lowly, a clear warning.

"God, Keigo, just-" you growled, wiggling around helplessly beneath him. He shifted his weight, holding you down with a growl, as if you were dare trying to escape him.

It was exciting, and had you babbling at him wantonly, "you're so f-fucking sexy and I - I want it. Want you to just - f-fuck me like - ahh, Keigo, your mate."

His arms suddenly wound beneath you and hoisted you off the floor. You cried out, clinging to him in a startle at the sudden verticality. Hawks leaned upright, on his knees in front of the fireplace, holding you up, pressed against his chest, hands gripping your meaty hips to hold you at the perfect angle to fuck up into you.

"My mate? -fuck when you say things like that, makes me fucking - ghhh - fu-uck - you want me to fuck you? Yeah?" he babbled on, whispering harshly right into your ear.

It was a little too close, a little too loud, and left a ringing sensation in your head. Yet, you didn't want to shy away, especially not when he started growling. Clinging to him desperately, you could feel his back muscles shifting as his wings flapped with enough force to knock some logs off the stand.

His head tilted back and took in the sight of your face. Your eyes were struggling to remain open, lips parted lewdly, cheeks tinted a brilliant shade of red.

"You look amazing," he whispered, hot breath fanning over your face. "Fucked stupid on my cock, where you belong."

You moaned lowly, head lulling against his shoulder. You felt his lips press a kiss against your temple and he continued uttering into your hair.

"Gonna fill my pretty mate with cum. Is that what she wants?" he whispered, low and sweet, sultry and downright vulgar. You didn't answer; but, he felt your nails bite into his shoulders, heard your breath briefly catch in your throat.

"Yeah, she does," he agreed, breaking off into a pleased hum.

The wet, fleshy sounds drowned out the noise of the fireplace, accompanied by your helpless mewling and Hawks disgruntled moans and grunts. You were so close like this, held up by his strong grip, chest to chest.

You sought out the strength to peer up and catch a glimpse of his wings shuddering, flexing out from his back either for balance or unconsciously, you couldn't determine. You tore one of your hands from his shoulder and dragged your fingers through his plumes, along the growth until you met his back.

Hawks cried out in a sharp roar. His pace increased exponentially as he rode out his orgasm, wheezing and panting into the space beside your head. That white-hot pleasure overtook you at some point, forcing a startled scream from your throat.

He kept going and going, only slowing down when he was certain you were finished. Suddenly, he slipped out, and the emptiness had you whimpering, head spinning and body aching.

Your back hit the bedding and then your front when Hawks rolled you over. Focused on the ache between your thighs, you barely processed the rustling of the bedding, until Hawks shoved some pillows beneath your abdomen to slightly elevate your lower half.

He propped himself up on his hands and knees, fingers splayed out across the bedsheets on either side of your torso. You felt the tops of his thighs slide against the backs of yours, cock heavy and wet against your core.

The realization of what he was about to do seemed to slap him in the face at that moment, for Hawks suddenly stopped, freezing up behind you.

"Fuck, I need you," he uttered, voice hoarse and low. "Please - please, can I keep going? -still so fucking hard."

You almost didn't recognize the sound of his voice, hoarse and desperate; but, then, his wings beat against the air, sharply reminding you that this was Takami Keigo.

Your cheek was pressed against one of the pillows, arms splayed out above your head, and you realized faintly that you must have been quite the sight, spread out lewdly for him, back curved, ass in the air, presenting to him like a bitch in heat.

There was no sense of obligation spurring your unity; or, if there was, it was an afterthought. All you felt was desire, longing for more, aching to be filled, trembling and void of any coherent thought beyond Hawks.

You could feel his throbbing cock at your entrance, his knees pushing yours apart, his arms trembling on either side of you. He was hovering some odd few inches; yet, he was panting so heavily, you could feel it fanning over your back.

"Keigo," you whispered weakly. "Don't stop."

Your scream drowned out the inhuman growl that escaped him as he shoved his hips forward, sheathing himself inside your velvety heat, as deep as he could possibly go, trying to push his hips further forward as if it wasn't enough.

Hawks fucked you wildly, huffing out sharp breaths mingled with pleasured moans. It didn't take long for him to reposition his hands, one settling on your waist while the other fisted in the bedsheets above your head. He arched over you possessively, wings beating the air to drive him forward. As unnecessary as it was, you couldn't deny the way it stoked the fire inside you.

Before you could even think to ask, one of his feathers wiggled between your thighs, nuzzling against your pearl where it flicked and twirled, pinching at the bud with just enough friction to be pleasurable, but not too hard to be painful.

"Keigo!" you cried out, hands gripping the sheets with enough force to nearly tear them.

"Say my name," tumbled from his lips, like a broken baritone. "Yeah - fuck - my name - say my name. Gonna - ahh - stuff you with my c- ahh - fuck, you feel so good - so good," he babbled on, leaving your head spinning.

He was fucking into you at the perfect angle, ensuring his cock reached your sweet spot with each and every thrust. At some point, coherent thoughts died. Nothing existed beyond the bed sheets, the fireplace, the cabin. All you could think about was the sweet scent lingering on the sheets beneath you and the explosive pleasure Hawks was forcing through your body.

He came again at some point; but, you could hardly tell. Everything was already sopping wet, seed dripping from your cunt and down your thighs, as well his. The sounds he made never ceased, inhuman groans deep in his throat that mingled with each hurried inhale and exhale, in harmony with his thrusts.

His dominant hand slid down your spine, carefully curling at the back of your neck to hold you down. As mindless as it might have appeared, you were acutely aware that he wasn't holding all his weight down.

You were familiar with the power he held, the brute strength hidden beneath his charming and silly demeanor. He could hurt you very easily if he wanted to; but, he never did. Even in this state, his self-control was mind boggling, pinning you with just the right amount of pressure to keep you still, but not enough to cause any discomfort.

'Keigo' fell from your lips, again and again, as if it was the only word you knew. Above you, Hawks seemed to be in the very state he had been worried about, that he had warned you about: blinded by the pleasure of your core, lost to the desires overwhelming his every thought for days.

At some point, he hunched over even further, hardly thrusting properly anymore and just rutting into you, and you felt his lips touch the space between your shoulder blades.

It was hardly a kiss and you realized vaguely that he was drooling a little before you felt the sting of his teeth. Hawks gnawed a path up your back, leaving behind pink, blossoming bruises, before digging his teeth into your shoulder. It wasn't as strong as the last bite, a brief sting before the pain was lost to the pleasure.

He growled into your skin, whole body quaking with sharp tremors, signaling that he had reached orgasm again. You had lost sense of your own awhile ago, always ablaze in white hot pleasure. The mere touch of his hand along your skin, every shift of his hips, the union of your sexes, had you vibrating.

You lost track of how long that went on, how long Hawks kept going, mouth latched onto your skin, slobbering and whimpering into your flesh, while his hips rolled against yours, pinning you between the floor and his unwavering form.

Everything felt too good for you to process how tired you had become, brought to the brink of exhaustion, glistening with sweat from head to toe, kept awake only by his invasion of your body, the drag of his cock along your velvety walls.

Eventually, Hawks began to slow. He carefully removed his teeth from your shoulder and gave a few more thrusts, letting out a low whine that you could guess was one last, final orgasm.

His feather departed your slippery folds, leaving you aching and spent, and he remained buried as deep as he possibly could, hips pressed tightly against yours.

Hawks nuzzled his face into the back of your neck, panting wildly, and you felt what you could only describe as vibrations rumbling from his chest, so violently that it had you shaking beneath him. It was almost alarming, but the tremors steadily waned as his breathing relaxed.

Carefully, Hawks turned you onto your side, shoved the pillow beneath you away, and curled into the space between you, pressed tightly against your back, skin touching in every spot that was possible. His wings stretched out behind him, past the boundary of the bedding and spread out across the floor, lax like the rest of him.

Hawks adjusted your legs carefully, stretching them out with his own until they were comfortably laying side by side, all whilst ensuring his cock remained lodged inside you. The strain wasn't unpleasant; rather, you were surprised by how good it felt.

"Keigo?" you uttered weakly, voice so low, you were surprised he even heard you.

You felt his lips kiss at your throat and a hand settle over your tummy, fingers splayed. He uttered your own name back, as if reassuring, before his fingers moved around, sliding up and down your side soothingly.

You willed your eyes to open and watched the flames inside the hearth dance briefly before your gaze darkened and you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sounds of the storm brewing outside and Hawks breathing softly behind you.

He didn't join you in the abyss, but watched over you cautiously, as if you could possibly be in any danger. The storm outside wasn't particularly worrisome, but it made it impossible for him to pick up sounds beyond the boundary of the cabin.

If you had turned to look upon his face, you would have seen his pupils miniscule, gold iris vibrant and wild. There was no chance that anyone would possibly disturb you, and his sensible self would have known that; but, as he was now, rut peaked and beast sufficiently satisfied, Hawks couldn't be told otherwise.

An arm drooped loosely over your waist, holding you close, and he listened to the soothing beats of your heart as you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled,  not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a  couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

[yellowcabdriver]

love language

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javier wants to love you the right way.

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warning: none

A/N: this was written in like 20 minutes before I went to sleep so sorry in advance for mistakes 🥲 Also, a kiss on a head for those who guesses Javier’s love language I tried to force in here 🥰🤣

“What form of love language do you prefer?”

You raised your head from the paperwork you had been filling out for what seems like an eternity.

“What?”

Elena shook some heavy-looking glossy magazine in her hand.

“There’s a test in here. Wanna find out?”

You went back to filing the report and shrugged your shoulders.

“How many love languages are there anyway?”

“Umm…” Elena quickly flipped through a few pages. “Five.”

Usually, you were not the one to indulge in magazines, especially not at work but… it had been a long day at the embassy. Very long. You spent the first part of the day typing out reports for Noonan, then you had to go to the archive and sew together some old documents in a badly lit backroom in the company of, you were sure of it, a ghost of someone who died in that backroom choking on an ungodly amount of dust. Your back was aching, high heels required by the dress code were straight up slaughtering your feet one step at a time. And also, you were bored out of your mind.

“Wow, okay.” You sighed and plopped down on a chair. “Sure, let’s see. I needed a break anyway.”

With a victorious shriek, Elena started reading out questions and marking the answers down on the pages with a pencil that desperately needed to be sharpened.

“Okay, you got…” her lips inaudibly moved as she was counting the results. “You got words of affirmation.”

“Oh, bullshit!” You threw your head back in sardonic laughter and stretched out your legs. “I don’t enjoy being complemented at all, I always get super uncomfortable!”

Elena shrugged her shoulders as she was erasing her pencil notes from the magazine.

“Maybe you do, somewhere deep down.”

“Nope, not a chance,” you snickered. “Your magazine is full of lies.”

“Hey!” Jokingly offended, Elena hugged the magazine to her chest. “It’s my only entertainment in this lifeless pile of paper!”

“What did you get then?” You asked, propping your cheek with your palm making you sound all muffled.

“Acts of service.”

“Well then, I’ll tell David to serve you up real nice.”

An enemy missile in the form of a crumpled piece of paper landed on your table.

“Oh screw you!”

“What’s the hustle?”

Elena and you immediately straightened up at the voice of a visitor who, upon further inspection, turned out to be your boyfriend, Javier.

“It’s just me, not Noonan,” he raised his palms slowly walking to your table as you two relaxed into your previous positions. Javier sat down at the edge of your table next to your chair and leaned down to kiss you on the forehead, this was his way of saying hello.

“Are you ready to go home?” He asked. Boy, were you ever.

“Of course, I am. So tired,” you complained suppressing a yawn. Javier smiled, soothingly stroking your hand.

“Let’s just go home, they don’t even pay us any overtime anyway,” Elena muttered, shooting a resentful stare at the piles of documents in front of her.

“By the way,” Javier turned to look at Elena. “David is downstairs, I think you’re gonna catch up.”

These words were enough for Elena to throw away her magazine, which honour she was just defending by violating a Geneva Convention of friendship, and bolt out of office without further ado. You and Javier looked at each other in amusement and burst into laughter at the same time.

“We should also go.”

“Yep, let’s go home.”

Nominally, “home” was Javier’s apartment, it was closer to the office and was overall much nicer than your place. Driving down the familiar street—the next turn after that yellow house, you were thinking, is home—Javier put his hand on your lap and asked you:

“Why were you arguing with Elena? Did she do something to you?”

“Oh, she did, she Inflicted the pain of knowing the content of a beauty magazine,” you half-heartedly complained, enjoying the warmth of Javier’s large hand on your thigh. Javier grinned at your remark.

“That harsh, huh?”

“We were just bored and decided to take a dumb test from the magazine.”

Javier chuckled as he quickly glanced at you, his yellow aviators catching a glimpse of the setting sun.

“About what?”

“Something about love language.”

“And what about it?”

“Well, found out that my love language is apparently words of affirmation.”

The car slowly stopped in the driveway as you reached Javier’s apartment building.

“Really?” He smiled at you, kissing the back of your hand. You almost melted at the gesture of his casual affection.

“Yes, who would’ve thought, right?”

Javier laughed again, exiting the car and jogging to your side to open the door for you. You jumped down and placed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth as a thank you.

“So it means you need to hear words of affirmation every day? Like your Cleo?” Javier asked, locking the car doors and turning slightly to look at you with a smile. You snorted. “Your Cleo” was a plant sitting comfortably on a windowsill of your office. She was a dying little thing until you saved her from being literally abused in the dark hallway of the embassy. Once you got her into a well-lit room and started watering her properly with actual water and not residue 3-in-1 coffee, Cleo turned into a stunning blooming beauty. You did talk to her, mostly paying her compliments—yes, weird, but you read somewhere that plants responded to positive affirmation. Javier, of course, didn’t believe any of that but for you, and he highlighted that specifically, he would greet Cleo every now and then when he entered your and Elena’s office.

“I am not like Cleo!” You huffed, making Javier smile as he hugged you by your waist and you two started walking towards his apartment. “But I believe everyone flourishes under kind words, don’t you think?”

Javier opened the door to his place and let you enter first.

“That’s a fair point, hermosa.”

The evening went by as it usually did: you two ate a dinner that Javier quickly put together—you maybe were a better cook but a slow one, for sure. Then you went to put Javier’s clothes into a washing machine, a dreadful loud thing that was tumbling around so hard you were afraid it would explode, while Javier washed the dishes. Finally, you two settled on the coach to watch some classic evening telenovelas because nothing relaxes a person more than an intricate plot of a tv show where somehow everyone ends up being everyone’s relative.

You were very engulfed in an episode—main character shot a man who turned out to be her biological father,—when Javier quietly asked:

“Am I saying enough compliments to you?”

“What?” You let out an involuntary laughter but as you turned to look at Javier, he didn’t seem to be joking.

“You said your preferred love language is words of affirmation and I’m… cariño, you know I’m not good with words,” Javier let out a bitter chuckle rubbing his temple—a nervous habit. “Am I showing you enough love?”

Oh.

Oh.

That you didn’t expect.

You turned the volume down and quickly climbed on Javi’s lap. He uncomfortably glanced up at the ceiling with a vulnerability you never saw him exude before. You could see something you would believe was more of your thing—an insecurity of being not enough.

“Javi, please, look at me,” you took his face in your hands and he immediately left a quick kiss on your palm, like a reflex.

God, that man was gonna be the death of you.

“Javi, my love, I never said anything about my preferences, it was just a dumb magazine. And besides, I don’t need to hear compliments, you know I can’t even take them well!” you said causing Javier knowingly to raise his eyebrows in agreement. Your left hand found its way to the back of his head and into his soft curls making Javier groan quietly.

“I love you so much and I love your ways of showing affection. I feel loved, if anything I feel adored.” You let your right index finger trace his aquiline nose and Javier closed his eyes at your tender touch. You began to press soft kisses all over his face.

“You love me so well, Javier Peña. You are so caring, so wonderful, so handsome, and sooooo sexy…” you exhaled as your kisses reached his jaw and you felt him smile. “I love you, Javi. So so much.”

Javier opened his eyes and pulled you in for a proper kiss.

“I love you, too, mi corazon,” his hands gently squeezing your thighs.

As this gesture pressed you closer, you felt the tightness in his jeans. Jokingly widening your eyes you glanced down, between your bodies, as Javier offered you a shy boyish grin.

“Ohh, but I see that someone else’s love language is definitely words of affirmation.”

Javier’s hands slid under your shirt and tightened around your waist as he began to leave open-mouthed kisses on your neck prompting you to let out a shamelessly loud moan.

“Oh yeah, I guess I forgot to mention that,” he softly said, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “I really love to hear your praise, mi amor.”

[bangtangalicious]

cancelled (1) | myg, jjk

summary: you cheated on your boyfriend, one of the most sought after boys on campus, with the nerd from the back of the lecture hall. that’s not the whole story, but only you know that. now a video has leaked across and everyone is turning against you for hurting such a perfect s/o.

pairing: yoongi x reader, jungkook x reader

wordcount: 3k

genre: yandere!yoongi and nerd!jungkook exyandere!jungkook

established-relationship!au college!au cheating!au

warnings: reader discretion is advised. cheating, mentions of past dubcon activity, yandere behavior, guilt, slight oral (f and m receiving), reverse cowgirl, soft smut in a not so soft situation, manipulation, jungkook calls you his pretty baby, sexual harassment, yoongi is lowkey a creep in this, prostitution i guess but like...its not how you'd think, mentions of rape fantasy but it doesnt happen

twoshot: part 1 | part 2 | masterlist

They say that you let a good thing be. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Well in your almost perfect life, that hand was Min Yoongi. Your boyfriend of 2 years now. You met through family, he was an heir, and you were the daughter of a wealthy associate. He used to spend his spring breaks with your family back in high school. You recall fondly how he sneak out, begging you to cover for him, end up passed out drunk in some alley and calling you, scared for his life.

You saw the way he grew—no, blossomed into the amazing man he is. You both got accepted to the same prestigious university program, and it is here your love story truly began. Straight out of a movie, Yoongi did not realize how much he adored you until he saw you grinding your ass up on some random guy at a frat party. A few months of drama gave way to pure happiness.

Yoongi made quite a name for himself on campus. He was incredibly charming, was impressive in his studies, and was always around for a good time. He treated everyone with respect and had no enemies. You felt proud to be his girlfriend, by his side as he made his mark.

And he was so so good to you. While your start may have been driven by jealousy and rage, he made up for it entirely by taking you on weekend getaways, loving you sweetly, holding you while you cry and buying you food. You two were freakishly domestic, and you loved it. You were ready for the ring whenever he was. So blessed that you could wake up every morning in a pair of arms that held you like you were their whole world.

Unfortunately, paradise tends to be a destination never quite reached. You sat, curled up into your knees, trembling as you watched cruel comments pop up on a video.

ungrateful whore.

Yoongi deserves so much better

#y/nisoverparty

why would you even want to cheat on a catch like yoongi? jfc

You didn’t know what bothered you the most. Was it the comments? Was it your fucked out face in the video? You moans that clearly indicated pleasure? Was it the fact that you hurt a man you loved? Or was it the fact that he was still there, sitting right next to you and kissing your damp cheeks every time he saw a tear, mumbling into your neck that it was okay, that he wasn’t mad. Did you deserve someone so perfect?

“Aw baby” He coos at you, stroking your hair as your sobs got louder. You fell into his embrace, unsure of what to think or do. “Ssh…I’m not mad baby. It’s my fault I wasn’t there”

You didn’t know how true his words were. You didn’t know just how at fault he was.

Yoongi had been doing his work in your shared apartment in his private study which even you weren’t allowed to enter. The security footage of your lecture played on his monitor, but he was barely paying attention. He kept an eye on you, but it was getting unnecessary. You had been together for so long, he could trust you now. He sighed and zoomed into where you sat, whispering something to the person seated next to you. They giggled and slid their hand onto your thigh. Yoongi simply watched, a smirk playing on his lips. The whole campus knew you were his. No one would dare make a move on you. He made sure of it. It was the whole reason he made your relationship so visible. He had people’s respect, and so they would respect that you belonged to him.

The hand trailed up your thin yoga pants, cupping your core. You slapped the hand away and Yoongi grinned wider. He liked to test you every now and then.

Yoongi wired money to that man’s bank account through his phone. Now all you had to do was tell him what happened. There was no room for secrets between you two.

“I’m home babe” He heard you walk in. He popped a Xanax and gulped down a glass of water. He smiled at you sweetly, taking your bag and setting it down before attacking your neck with soft, breathless kisses.

“How was your day?” He asked quietly, “Anything interesting happen?”

“Nah. Pretty uneventful” He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh. Nothing at all?”

“Well” Yoongi’s eyes perked. Tell me someone harassed you baby. Just tell me. “I did try this amazing latte at the cafe in the Literature building.”

Why were you lying to him? Yoongi tilted his head. It wasn’t that big of a deal, it just made him wonder what else you hid from him. The little things. The little things that pile up.

Yoongi realized it had gone too far when he heard you gossiping with a few of your girl friends in the hallway of the Science Institute. “I just can’t believe he won’t fuck you. Doesn’t he know how many people would if they had a chance?”

“He seems so perfect but it’s almost like he’s just lacking the one key thing. Dick” They giggled. You rolled your eyes. You had confessed that you really did want to have sex. Yoongi wanted to save himself for marriage, but it was getting hard for you. When you brought this up with Yoongi he shut you down immediately.

“Baby” He fingered the purity ring on his pinky finger, “You know I can’t”

You had been frequently meeting with someone from one of your lab classes, a certain Jeon Jungkook. Yoongi didn’t love this, but he was acquainted with Jungkook, and knew that he likely was not a threat. The boy was not your type at all—his clunky glasses and sweater vests and his hair long and swept back, unlike Yoongi’s fresh blonde cut. Sometimes you wouldn’t tell him that you were with Jungkook, but he still knew. Nothing happened. But he still got irritated.

Unfortunately it was impossible to truly watch you all the time. After all, Yoongi was a social guy and had to make appearances frequently. He often wondered if you knew he watched you, so you waited to run off fuck yourself on Jungkook when he wasn't looking. He bit his lip until blood came out, raging at the prospect.

He wasn’t entirely wrong about you though. You did always feel pressure of behaving in a way that reflected well on him. So when everyone was looking at Yoongi, you were able to slouch your shoulders and relax. You would go to Jungkook’s house for a drink, with no ulterior motive on either of your end. You loved Yoongi. Jungkook respected him, and you. There was no issue.

So when Yoongi showed up at Jungkook’s doorstep a week later with a bag full of cash asking him to fuck his girlfriend, he was disgusted at first.

“E…excuse me?” He stammered, blushing. Yoongi squinted at him.

“Have sex with y/n the next time she is over.” He put on a show, “I just feel bad I cannot give her what she desires. I don’t want to deprive her of anything. I know she is fond of you so if you wouldn’t mind…she is very beautiful I can tell you that”

“I…that’s not…do you realize how insane this is?”

Yoongi shrugged, “It’s twenty-thousand dollars to fuck a pretty girl. What’s so bad?”

“Does she want this? D…do you have her consent to be asking me this?”

“Of course.” He chuckled giving a charming smile, “In fact, she has a bit of a fantasy that I was hoping you could indulge. I am not sure if she will go through with it but, she might try to resist at first, but really she wants to be used like a whore. She will love it, really.”

Jungkook gave him a skeptical look. “What the fuck? You want me to indulge your girlfriend’s rape fantasy? I’m not a fucking sadist”

“It’s not a rape fantasy. She just likes to struggle a bit but then she will get into it. She will want it”

“I can’t believe I am even entertaining this conversation, you need to leave”

“Forty-thousand.”

“Fuck off Yoongi. First of all, I am not even into y/n…” He paused.

“Oh please, she’s the finest thing in miles of here, you just haven’t considered her as available. That’s how I know I can trust you to do this for me.”

Jungkook gulped. That’s not quite it. He thought to himself. But the thought passed when Yoongi took off his watch and handed it to him.

“This is worth half a million dollars. Are we good?”

Jungkook just gaped at him.

“You have had sex before right?”

Oh yes he had. Once. He nodded slowly.

“Okay good. Please show her a good time and keep this between us”

“She knows right? She knows you’re asking me to do this?”

Yoongi grinned and pat Jungkook’s shoulder, “Oh baby boy, she’s the one who suggested it”

Jungkook found that a bit hard to believe.

What Yoongi didn’t know was that Jungkook already has had sex. With you. You didn’t know it was him, and it was long before you began dating Yoongi.

Jungkook had been obsessed with you as a high schooler, your pictures collaging the back of his bathroom door, a variety of your things—forgotten hoodies, dropped pens— messily shoved into the drawer of his desk.

It was an innocent phase at first. You were just so pretty. He couldn’t help the way his blood would rush between his legs every time you would glance in his general direction. He couldn’t help watching the way you outgrew your uniform skirt, almost breaking down in tears when you replaced it with a larger size. He would sneak out of class when you had PE to watch you run, and the way your breasts bounced in the tight top you wore.

You didn’t know him. Why would you? He was no way near your league. He worked extremely hard, dreaming to get into the same university as you on a full ride because his family could never afford it.

Jungkook would normally follow you home, obviously he just wanted to make sure you reached safe. You had been crying the entire walk home. Jungkook had to gather every ounce of self restraint not to go hug you and kiss you until you smiled again. He hated seeing you cry, and it made him want to die.

He was worried about you. You entered your beautiful home, but no one was there. What if you tried to harm yourself? Who would protect you?

He had snuck in through the back.

If anyone had been around, they may have heard a scream. But more likely the would have heard the cries of pleasure that followed.

That evening you told Yoongi you were going to work on stuff with Jungkook. You dressed modestly, not bothering to freshen up much. He watched through his cameras as you arrived into Jungkook’s tiny apartment. So much smaller than his, probably in more ways than one, he clicked his tongue in amusement.

“Hey Jungkook!” You hugged him lightly. He looked extremely uncomfortable which made Yoongi all the more amused.

Two people fucking who both don’t want to. What do you call that? Yoongi chuckled darkly.

“Listen y/n…I know that…I know I agreed but I just wanna make sure…” Jungkook could barely look you in the eye. As destiny would have it, you chose that moment to pull your hoodie off, giving Jungkook a flash of the underside of your breasts. He gulped. “You really don’t remember me do you…”

“What do you mean?” You were so confused. Jungkook licked his lips and crawled over where you were sitting on his couch, causing you to lay on your back. “What…hey what the fuck are you doing?”

He didn’t like your tone. It awoke a protective instinct in him. He stroked your hair and gazed deeply into your eyes. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex?”

You blushed furiously, face heating up dangerously fast at the sudden question. You shifted your neck away from him uncomfortably. “Um…I guess…3, maybe 4 years?”

“Tsk, poor girl.” He cooed, his finger grazed your cheek, “Alright, I’ll play along. You can let me know if you want me to stop okay?” He lowered himself enough to let his lips trace travel down the veins on your neck. He inhaled you, memories of innocent years coming back to him in floods.

You were frozen. His body radiated heat, his scent was giving you a high you couldn’t quite explain. You shouldn’t feel this way. You had sweet sweet Yoongi waiting for you at home. Sweet Yoongi who loved you, and was saving himself for you like the pure angel he is.

You looked up at the soft dark eyes of the man above you now. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu.

“Jungkook” You exhaled as his lips began kissing over your shirt, down the valley of your breasts, lifting your shirt so he could kiss your stomach. “I…I have a boyfriend”

“You’re really committed to this huh?” He chuckled, taking some of his fingers and slowly circling under the waistline of your shorts. You blinked a few times to try to react to what was happening but your body was overwhelmed. It had been so long since you were touched like this.

“Please” You said loudly, so loudly that Jungkook barely hears the “don’t do this” that followed in a whisper.

Jungkook thought back to the night you took his virginity. It hadn’t been on his agenda, he was content following you around and jacking off to your social media accounts every night. That night had changed him. He had realized then that he was messed up. He realized he needed help and he sought it out. A few years of therapy had done him good. He felt guilty about it for a while, but eventually had to grow and move on. He would never act like that again.

But here he was.

And there you were. Below him again. Begging for him through your actions and pushing him away with your words.

Emotions overwhelmed you. Your heart wrenched at the bitter guilt that you were doing the unthinkable. They very thing that you would condemn about other couples. How could you? How could you cheat? But your body was whimpering.

“I have a boyfriend. He’s so good to me. He’s so amazing, and I…I love” You let out a sob as he allowed his hips to roll into you, giving you friction you had craved for so long, “Jungkook…please” You knew he was reading between the lines. You knew he heard your consent, and that disgusted you.

“Mmm I know baby. I know you love him” Jungkook sighed as he pulled down your shorts, “Tell me about him baby. Tell me how much you love him” He began kissing your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.

“He’s so—ahhh” Jungkook took his tongue and pushed aside your underwear to lick a long stripe between your legs. “So good. So fucking…mmmmhhh” You squealed as Jungkook shoved his tongue inside you. The sensation was heavy in your core, but the sensation drove you wild. He flicked his tongue around, almost too easily being able to find all the right places to make you twitch and moan his name.

“Do you want my cock pretty baby? Hmm?” He whispered teasingly, his voice muffling against you as he continued to eat you out. You yelped as he sucked on your clit and nodded your head dumbly. “My little girl so desperate for cock she’d cheat on her boyfriend hm?” He came up for air, your juices messily spread across his lips, his eyes shot with lust.

“Don’t…don’t say that” You whined. Jungkook nodded before pulling off his sweater. You traced his muscles with your fingers, so defined and beautifully tan as he shrugged off his jeans. He took his glasses off and folded them carefully but you grabbed his hand.

“Keep them on…your glasses…” Jungkook’s eyes widened in amusement.

“Why” He teased.

“I like them. I like them a lot. You remind me of someone I used to like” Jungkook’s blood ran cold.

Did you remember?

Did you remember the way he had pinned you up against your kitchen wall back then? The way he left hickies all over your body, marking you as his. The way he had entered you for the first time, with you sprawled out across your dining table, then again on the counter tops, then again from behind pressed up against the window.

Did you remember how many times you both came? It was like a sex fest of hours and hours. In your mouth, on your face, on your tits and buried deep in your cunt, the condom barely surviving the pressure of his seed.

Did you remember the way you cried after in his arms, unable to walk? The way he held you and kissed you softly, apologizing.

Did you remember how he had given you pills so you would forget, hoping that you wouldn’t be sad any longer?

Jungkook had been too lost in thought to notice that you had pulled your own shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra, pulling his neck down so you could kiss him.

“Jungkook” You gasped as he finally regained consciousness and dragged his fingers across your pussy.

“Will you ride me baby?” His eyes twinkled in his request and you were more than happy to indulge him. Jungkook switched positions with you. You reverse cowgirled him, unknowingly, the perfect position for Yoongi to see all of you as you fucked yourself silly onto Jungkook’s cock.

You lowered yourself down on him slowly, savoring the stretch that you had almost forgotten you could ever feel. Your fingers could never give you a sensation quite like this. Jungkook shut his eyes and tried to savor the feeling.

“Pretty…pretty baby” He cooed, sitting up so he could nibble your shoulder and hold your hips as he bounced you slowly on his cock.

“Tell me something” He exhaled, feeling himself slowly approaching his orgasm, the feeling of your soft, warm walls around him too much to bear, “Did you want this because of me…or did you just need cock?”

You continued thrusting yourself back into him, the firm hold of his hands on you giving you an arousing sense of comfort. You wiggled your ass, liking the way he would grunt when you did.

“Did you want me baby? Did you do this for me?”

You cried out suddenly, feeling a long awaited orgasm overwhelming your senses. Jungkook’s grip on you tightened as he tried to keep fucking you through it, your body going limp, twitching erraticly.

“So pretty…my sweet sweet girl” He turned your head to kiss your lips, slipping his tongue in and relishing in the love you poured in through your actions. He caressed your breasts and continued to thrust up into you.

“Come inside me” You exhaled softly.

“No y/n…that wouldn’t be right” Jungkook was reminded of the eerily intimidating presence of the man who was paying him to do this. He slowly brought his thrusts to a halt before helping you up off of him, his cock still painfully erect. “I can finish myself”

You pouted, watching him drill his graze into your naked presence, violently stroking his cock. He licked his lips shamelessly.

“I don’t love you anymore y/n” He whispered too softly for you to hear, “I’m over you. I’m over this. This doesn’t mean anything—AAAAhhh” Your mouth was on his cock and that was all it took for him to come harder than he ever had.

He took you into his arms, wrapping them around you and kissing your face over and over again, caressing your hips and trying to relax your muscles so you wouldn’t be sore.

You reached for your phone as Jungkook began to fill the silence.

“Yoongi seems really great. He clearly cares about you a lot. I’m really happy for you, genuinely” He says softly, “I’m honestly really impressed he let this happen”

But you didn’t hear him, all you could hear was your heart drumming loudly in your ears as you saw the stream of notifications on your phone. Your heart dropping like a bomb when you saw the single message you dreaded more than anything.

yoongi: what’s this? <link>

And linked was a live stream of the events that had just transpired.

masterlist                                                       next----->

A/N: im just cackling at #y/nisoverparty HAHA um stream film out! woohoo

[delirious-donna]

Chasing the Sparks - A Black Clover Story

a/n: inspired by the talents of some amazing BC authors, I decided to force myself out of my comfort zones and create my first story with an OC as a main character.

pairing: Magna Swing and Alina Vaude (my OC)

warnings: none, SFW, canon typical violence

synopsis: Having been scouted by Yami Sukehiro, Captain of the Black Bulls, Magna is invited to officially participate in the Magic Knight trials. Reluctant, given his peasant status and a general disdain for nobles and royals, he decides to give it a shot, thinking that at least he could ruffle some feathers and have some fun.

He didn’t count on locking eyes with a girl that he cannot describe as anything other than ethereally beautiful. She seems shy, almost hiding within the shadows to avoid being looked upon, but Magna sees her, nonetheless. Intrigued by this girl, he finds himself all the more determined to perform well and rightfully earn a spot on a Magic Knight squad.

Meanwhile, the bashful flower is simply trying her damnedest to avoid being spotted by her pompous cousin. Yet whilst she pointedly tries to evade sight, she cannot help but be captivated by the sight of the boy currently engaged in combat. He is everything she has been told to avoid, in both looks and mannerisms but the allure is too strong to be denied.

Can a peasant and a noble overcome a society that would do anything to keep them apart?

~

A mostly canonical depiction of the events within Black Clover with the addition of some OC characters. A story that spans many years and told mostly either from the perspective of Magna or the main OC, Alina. Adventure, romance and exciting new perspectives – do dive in!

Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Taking a Chance

A trail of smoke rose from the end of the lit cigarette, drifting lazily on the whispers of the wind until it was no longer visible to the naked eye. The familiar burning drag of his lungs was a comforting presence as he looked for the source of the chaos.

It was an easy enough task, given the trail of prominent scorch marks and flaming piles of trash that could be followed much like breadcrumbs scattered on a forest floor. Hell, he could even choose to utilise his ability to sense Ki in order to weasel out the delinquent responsible for all this destruction. However, on this occasion, he preferred the old-fashioned method of simply using his eyes.

The tall dark-haired male eased along the road with his hands buried deep in his pockets, he was the epitome of relaxed despite being on a mission to resolve the hell-raising antics of some teenage brat that was clearly in need of a hearty spank on the butt. He had nothing to worry about, he could and did, eat punks like these for breakfast.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had driven him to volunteer for this job. He had been perfectly content to allow another squad or one of his little underlings to tackle this low-ranking mission, but as the details had flowed out from the scroll, his perception had shifted. It sounded all too familiar, a troublesome brat out to cause destruction as a form of entertainment.

Perhaps he simply needs a focus?

Regardless of the reason that brought him here on this chilly starless night, he was intent on wrapping things up as quickly and efficiently as possible. His ride would be back in thirty minutes, so he really had no time to waste on idling within his own thoughts.

As he approached the centre of Sosshi, he noticed the presence of residents peeking out from the tiniest of cracks in their doors. Fearful eyes of the young and old alike appeared to beseech him for help, and in honesty, he found it humbling. Considering he was not native to these lands and was often referred to as merely ‘the foreigner’, it was always refreshing to feel wanted. Would it be different if they didn’t need his help as a Magic Knight? He wouldn’t dwell on it; people would always hold their prejudices and he was long accustomed to the hateful stares and whispered words behind raised hands.

The black cape bearing his squad’s insignia fluttered in the wind, a reminder of the band of misfits he had only recently started to string together. He was not the only one within the Clover Kingdom that thought their self to be an outsider, and he had made it his mission to give these outcasts a place to call home, a family of strays where each held the power to surpass their limits and achieve great things. All they needed was the proper motivation, he might not be the most gentle-natured person, but he prided himself on coaxing out latent potential.

Rounding the corner, the Magic Knight Captain dragged the cigarette from between his lips and let his gaze roam freely around the central square he found himself in. Petty destruction littered every corner, the dregs of charred remains of stall coverings smouldered and he found himself stopping in his tracks at the sight of a truly hideous-looking broom.

Could it even be classed as a magic broom with the alterations that had been made to the poor thing?

It had been changed to appear like a bull skeleton with a grandiose skull mounted at the head. The gleaming white bone curved into impressive horns that appeared sharp enough to successfully gore a person. He couldn’t halt the faint flicker of a smile that ran across his lips as he noted the black sunglasses perched upon the skull, this kid clearly had a sense of humour.

He continued to stare at the monstrous contraption; the saddle along the length of the broom handle with ribs attached, the plume of thick bristles at the end and weirdly, the large purple fluffy balls attached at either side. Questions, he had many of them. This thing made no sense, but it would have to wait for now. He wondered if he would get the chance for a civilised conversation with the brat, he hoped they would as he was genuinely curious as to what lunacy had laced his brain when concocting this crazy hybrid vehicle.

The sound of cackling laughter drew his attention back to the task at hand. He let loose a sigh and turned to locate the source. A figure lurked not far from where he was standing, hunched over something upon the ground and sparks flickering between his cupped palms.

“Hey kid, need a word,” he half yelled at the crouched boy.

He got his first look at the punk that had brought Sosshi to its knees on more occasions than he could count on one hand, enough to have resulted in the village elders calling upon the assistance of the Magic Knights, and he was less than impressed with what he saw.

The boy that came stumbling forward, his grimoire already afloat by his side, could barely be sixteen.

He was short and scrawny in stature but wore a mean expression on what would have been a youthful face had it not been for the snarl. His hair was a mixture of black and silver, cropped close to his head except for the black mohawk that stood up along the centre. A pair of tinted blue sunglasses obscured the true colour of his eyes, but it was hard to miss the flames of mischief that sparked within their depths.

“Who’re you callin’ a kid, pops?” the boy retorted, his fist tightened, and the groan of his leather fingerless gloves filled the dead space in their conversation if you could call it as such.

The Captain’s aura visibly darkened, tendrils of power leaking from his very presence whilst his grimoire flared to life. Hues of majestic purples encased the book, the pressure of his mana enough to make the boy take a faltering step backwards, and his complexion paled in the face of the impressive magic.

“Pops?” he growled the question, daring to take one step forward.

At only twenty-five, to say that he was irritated was an understatement. He was barely holding on to his temper and he had only been in this punk’s presence for less than a minute. Despite it all, something told him to pull back. The boy was surely a delinquent but there was no true malice in his actions, for all intents and purposes he seemed like a kid that was sick of listening to adults telling him what to do, and he could understand that.

“W-who are you, man?”

He only stared at the lad, assessing him before deciding on his answer.

There were several avenues open to him at this moment and honestly, he wasn’t sure what would work out for the best. His menacing glare cut down his figure, taking in the leather jacket and fingerless gloves. Even from this brief encounter, it was obvious that he was lacking in mana, and he wondered whether it would ever increase enough to be considered special within a world of the extraordinary. Would it be cruel to give him hope for more than he could likely attain?

It was obvious that the boy wanted to back up further, but instead of doing so, he grit his teeth and stepped forward. His arm trembled from how tightly his fist was clenched and the fiery orange ripples around his grimoire intensified as if they wished to bolster his confidence. Dust kicked up from the ground as he stood defiantly in the face of a person quite clearly capable of annihilating him with one well-aimed strike with his katana.

He was impressed, there was no other way to describe it. There were not many amongst the highest ranks of Magic Knights that would dare to take a step closer to him, even without his mana flowing around him like a spectral cape. A smirk played across his mouth as a fresh plume of smoke rose into the air. He was going to take a chance on this kid; he could already tell that he would work harder than most to achieve his dreams and he wanted to be a part of wherever his destiny took him.

“Yami,” he drawled, the end of his cigarette illuminated the features of his face that had fallen into darkness, “Yami Sukehiro, Captain of the Black Bulls and your newest nightmare.”

~

Magna was in agony.

Pain tore through every muscle, each ligament and joint, it burned his flesh and forced the oxygen from his lungs. Sweat ran like endless torrents down his face, his hair soaked to the point that he looked like he had just stepped out of a shower. His glasses lay a few feet away, half-buried under the dirt, and he did not recall the moment they had been dislodged from his face.

Yami had been more than true to his word, he was Magna’s personal nightmare. Looking up at the man in question, his neck screaming at the movement needed to give him that sight, he found the male casually puffing on his ever-present cigarette in between chuckles that sounded entirely ominous.

To look at Yami in comparison to Magna, you would be remiss to believe that they had both been engaged in a brawl. The runty-looking boy certainly gave the impression that he had been knocked around, kicked and shoved like an overzealous child might play with a ball – but the elder male? He was pristine, or as pristine as Yami ever was.

The Magic Knight Captain wasn’t even out of breath. With his katana resting atop his shoulder, he cocked his head at the prone Magna as if to say, ready for more? To which the answer would be a resounding, NO!

“Aargh!” the boy roared his fury into the night.

How many nights like this had passed since the Captain of the Black Bulls had made it his personal mission to spar with Magna? It had to be reaching double digits, and yet he didn’t seem to be improving. To say he was frustrated would be a severe understatement. Magna was burning with rage, the flicker of his unwavering fire goading his anger, provoking it further.

“Not bad kid,” Yami rasped, wiping his palms on his pants and turning his back on the younger male that looked ready to bawl his eyes out.

“The hell it was!”

Yami sighed, turning back around to crouch down on his haunches. This part never came easy to him, more accustomed to issuing death threats than words of encouragement, but the boy needed a moment of solace rather than intimidation. He offered a hand which Magna took begrudgingly, pulling his with ease into a seated position so they were more face to face.

He knew how much the kid was pouring into these sparring sessions and despite his refusals, he really was improving. Magna would have to pull something completely spectacular and unexpected out of the bag to land a solid strike upon him but the times he had come close to it, increased with each meeting.

It had been a trade-off. Yami promised not to kill him if Magna swore never to raise hell in Sosshi, or any other village for that matter. The deal hadn’t ended there, and the Captain well remembered the look of shock on the delinquent’s face as he told him that he expected Magna to try out in the next Magic Knight entrance exams.

“Look here,” he gestured to his white tank top.

The left side had the smallest singe mark, it was only noticeable when pointed out but it was there nonetheless. He watched the widening of the boy’s grey eyes, for someone that claimed to be in absolute agony only a moment ago, he sure could move fast as he scrambled closer to look at the burn mark.

A mark that he had caused. Magna Swing, a lowly peasant from the arse end of nowhere had actually sullied a Magic Knight’s clothing. Not any Magic Knight either, a goddamn Captain – an especially terrifying one too.

Tears surged from the backs of his eyes, flooding his lash line and threatened to pour forth at any second as an emotion he was unfamiliar with swept inside. It danced with his fire, a joyous melding that roiled like the bubbles of a hot spring.

Pride.

Throwing an arm over his face so Yami could not see, Magna sobbed. It was raw and so real, the boy that had been destined to amount to nothing more than being a common criminal was going to try out as a Magic Knight.

“Stop yer wailing or I’ll kill ya!” Yami growled, yet there was no threat in his tone.

~

Why had he agreed to this? It had to be a grave mistake to think this would be a good idea. Clearly, he’d been hoodwinked by the notion that he could be more than what society had dictated. Having Captain Yami put even an ounce of his faith into a mere brat from the Forsaken Realm, it served in painting a vivid fantasy of a future Magna had only dared to dream of. As he walked forward into the intimidating Coliseum, trying with all his might not to wobble even though his legs felt like jelly, his facade of rebellious indifference failed to mask his nerves. One look at him was enough to note the bead of sweat that rolled down from his hairline and the strain in his temples. All he could see, no matter which way he turned, was a sea of nobles and even a few royals huddled together. Their chins tilted upwards with that arrogant air that they wore at all times, smug sneers painting their features and open disdain blazing in their eyes. Magna rolled his shoulders, a low growl rumbled within the depths of his chest and an overwhelming sense of injustice served to further warp him into the incarnation of the delinquent he was viewed as. How he hated these ‘people’, these bigots that refused to acknowledge others simply based on where they were born or what family they belonged to. Didn’t they know that a family name did not make a person? They need only to look at their ‘King’ to witness a perfect example of someone born into a status that they had no right to own. The man was an imbecile who valued the appearance of power and control above all else. The Clover Kingdom might have crumbled by this point had it not been for the Wizard King that ruled alongside the idiot in a crown. Now, he was a man that had earned the respect given to him.

His thoughts continued to swirl as he waited for his turn to approach the booth ahead, he felt entirely out of his depths and yet he was determined to at least ruffle some feathers whilst he was here. The idea of wiping the smirking smiles from a few of the nobility present was tantalising, his inner flame sparked with mischief and his grimoire felt hot in his hands. “Magna Swing from Rayaka,” he declared loudly. The mage seated in the window slid his eyes up in apparent boredom. There was certainly no enthusiastic welcome as he placed a hand upon Magna’s grimoire, mana enveloped the book for a second before withdrawing, but at least there had been no scorn either. “Number 86, next!” Magna made to move aside, confused as he had never bothered to learn how this process worked, considering that he would never find himself in this position. Yami had told him very little about the events ahead of him, every time Magna gathered the courage to question the hulking and frankly, intimidating male, he had waived him off with a dismissive hand. “You’ll see on the day,” he had said time and again.

He forced his legs forward and entered what he assumed to be the main arena, had his nerves not been reaching fever pitch he might have been vaguely impressed with the sight. The circular building was regal in appearance, and the tall columns that braced the upper level were intricate in design, but he could not appreciate any of it, not when two birds swooped in endless circles around his head.

“Shoo! Get outta here!”

It was no use, the chasing continued until they seemingly ran out of puff. The two swallow-like birds chose to perch on either shoulder, roosting rather cutely into their chests, content in trusting Magna with their safety. He was amazed as well as confused, that was until he noticed the other birds that darted here and there. It seemed that some were not as friendly as the two that adopted him; beaks that nipped at people that tried to bat them away, sharp little talons tearing into the skin and leaving behind nasty-looking scratch marks.

Oblivious to the reasoning behind the presence of these birds, he turned his focus to the balcony above. The decadent archways were empty, but he could spy chairs lined along the edge, and he wondered who the judges for this exam would be. Magna wondered if there were perhaps a committee that oversaw these matters, but his wondering was brought to a swift halt when he heard the snide voices from a little way off.

“I don’t know why they continue to allow such riffraff to participate in the exams. There is simply no way that a peasant could show more potential than any of the royals or nobles present.”

His head snapped to the source of the voices and found three boys of a similar age to himself deep in conversation. The one that had spoken let his eyes trail towards Magna, they widened slightly as he noticed he had been overheard but instead of looking contrite, a wide grin spread out.

“Look boys, seem one of the trash was listening in,” the boy teased.

Magna had yet to realise that this was not simply a noble that was taunting him, but a royal. The boy swept aside his silver hair, which should have been the biggest hint to his identity, yet it flew entirely over his head, too enraged by the barbs thrown so casually at him.

He had half a mind to blast this pig-headed snob into the dirt and his inner flame surely agreed with how it twisted and writhed for release. Only a few months ago and he would have acted upon those reckless impulses, but now he had the image of an enraged Yami Sukehiro emblazoned into the back of his skull. Fear for his own life kept him rooted to the spot though his entire body was tightly coiled and ready to strike in an instant. He would not hesitate to defend himself, but he would not be the first to lash out either.

It looked as if the boy was going to continue his taunting, even taking a step closer to Magna’s position but at that moment, a silence fell over the masses and every head snapped towards the balcony as shadowy figures emerged from the dark recesses.

The Magic Knight Captains made their way to the edge, some strolling with no care in the world whilst others strutted like pompous peacocks, parading their superior mana to the hopeful applicants below. Magna was late to give his attention to the Captains, wishing to ensure the silver-haired toff did not use the moment of distraction to launch a sneak attack. However, the royal in question had been pointedly ignoring his presence since the Captains appeared.

At long last, he gazed upwards and immediately found the figure of Yami. The man in question leant heavily against the column beside him, puffing on his ever-present cigarette and appearing extremely bored by the proceedings. A young-looking male stood further back from Yami but wore the same Black Bulls cape, he wasn’t sure if it was the same boy that Yami often referred to as his ‘ride’. Magna had met him only enough to raise a hand in greeting but the chestnut-haired boy had always seemed friendly and genuine on the times he had arrived to retrieve the Captain and they had still been in full flow of a sparring match.

Magna surveyed the rest of the assembled Captains, some he recognised for their various services to the Kingdom but there were a few that did not even know the names of. The Captain in the centre took a further step forward, gasps of admiration floated to Magna’s ears, and he was inclined to agree with them. William Vangeance of the Golden Dawn was an impressive sight, his gilded helmet caught a glint of the overhead sun and only served to deepen the mystery behind the mask.

“Welcome to the Magic Knights Entrance Examinations, I am Captain William Vangeance…” his voice trailed off as movement pulled Magna’s focus away from the opening ceremony. He followed the slow movements of a figure to his right, turning to keep it in sight and daring to press a little closer to determine what he was observing.

There, half-hidden in the shadows of the pillars stood a girl.

This was no ordinary girl – heavens no. She looked panicked from what little he could determine from her face. Her gaze was trained upon the balcony, but he sensed that it was not fixed upon the man addressing the masses, she seemed to be searching for another, but he had no idea who would cause her such distress.

She moved again, flitting to the next column and this time he could see more of her face. Magna felt his cheeks grow hot, she was pretty – no – that word did not serve her any justice, but he was unable to conjure a word befitting what he felt.

Her hair was the colour of especially milky coffee and the few strands that fell around her round face shimmered with golden highlights when they caught the light. It was worn swept into a messy-looking side ponytail as if her fingers either often fiddled with it or she had not long hastily scraped it together. Magna could not discern the colour of her eyes, too far back in the darkness to allow him the sight and he took another half step forward.

Like a skittish colt, she was on the move once more, forcing the boy to swing around to follow her trajectory. The skirts of her lavender dress fluttered around her legs as she moved but not a sound was made upon the stone floor. A part of him wanted to approach, to ensure that she was okay yet as he swallowed, resolving to keep moving this time, loud cheering ripped through the mist of his concentration.

He looked up to find all the Captains taking their seats as the throng of applicants began to herd into separate areas. Magna cursed under his breath. He had become so distracted by a girl – damn, the girl – he looked for her but found the space she had last occupied to be empty. He had missed the entire explanation as to what was to come, and he could kick himself for his foolishness. Glancing towards Yami as he felt the piercing stare on the back of his neck, he bowed his gaze as he looked toward the man that had dared to take a shot on him.

Magna wasn’t about to let him down, and if he were to soul search just a little deeper, he might have recognised the desire to perform well in order to impress a certain other person that might be watching.

Let’s tear this place up!

~

Alina could barely contain her heart within her chest, it beat to a thunderous rhythm born of sheer panic and anxiety. It was as if all her nightmares were coming together to make this the worst day of her life.

She still remembered the casual, almost off-the-cuff manner in which her father had announced that Langris would be in attendance for today’s examination.

Why him of all people? Sure, he was climbing the ranks within the Golden Dawn with gusto, much to the delight of his parents, but did he have to bear witness to her own attempt to gain entrance into a Magic Knight squad? It wasn’t as if she wanted to join the Golden Dawn, the pressure would be too great and anyway, she would never be chosen by the number one ranking squad.

Her father had been oblivious to his daughter’s plight, not even looking up from the text he had been reading at the breakfast table. She wondered if he even noticed when she flew from the table, ascending the stairs two at a time until she had hurtled into her bedroom in a breathless mess.

Would Finral be there also?

She had gnawed at her fingernails as that worry bloomed in her chest, knowing all too well of the tensions between the brothers. It pained her how Finral had been so casually swept aside as if he had never even existed within this family but at only fifteen, what could she even dream to do about it?

Alina was certainly far luckier than her cousins; as the younger brother in the Vaude house, her father was not under any pressure to ensure a suitable heir was to take over as the head of the family. It was probably for the best given how scatter-brained her dear dad was, but she had witnessed the pressure and often cruelty that was aimed towards Finral and Langris from the safety of the sidelines.

Her focus renewed on the situation at hand, there was no point in dwelling on the events of the past when she was currently doing her damnedest to remain undetected by Langris. Alina could see him searching for her, aquamarine eyes that blazed in irritation as she continued to evade his sight.

Placing a hand on her chest, she tried valiantly to calm her breathing as the other hand came up to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers. She would only be able to keep this up until it was her turn to perform the first task that was asked of them. At that point, the game would be over but engaging in this meaningless battle gave her a sense of confidence over her older cousin. As spatial magic users, the three Vaude children had played endless hours of hide and seek and there was no surprise as to who the reigning champion of the game was – the very man she was managing to outmanoeuvre at this moment.

The cheering subsided as Captain Vangeance and the other Captains took their seats. She watched almost lazily as groups formed, nobles choosing to turn their backs on the few commoners and even fewer considered peasants that lingered in the open space. Her eye was caught by a prominent streak of silver hair, and she couldn’t catch the squeak of surprise before it passed through her lips.

Her steps took her as far as she could manage, away from the royal that was well known for his merciless cruelty. She prayed for anyone that would end up opposing him in these trials, or indeed anyone that ended up in the same squad.

It was time that she make her presence known.

The sight of magic brooms descending from the skies signalled the start of the first test. Alina smoothed down her lavender skirts and took a terrifying step into the circle of light. A few people cast their gazes towards her, curious as to who the newcomer was as they had not been aware of her presence until this point. She could feel her cheeks heating from the unwanted attention, but she forced her head upward, lifting her gaze to meet those icy eyes and the furrowed brow that spoke volumes of his displeasure. Every inch of her diminutive stature trembled like the last leaf on an autumn tree, but her eyes remained determined.

She was entirely unaware of the extra set of eyes that watched her closely, her attention far too invested in not looking a fool in front of her two cousins as she had indeed noted the warm smile of Finral from the balcony. His hand lifted shyly in greeting, fingers waggling as he used to do when she was much younger and for a moment she wanted to cry. It had been a long time since she had last seen Finral, and it was a relief to see that he appeared happy and healthy.

Her observer made no attempt to conceal his stare, often turning his head to admire whatever she was currently tasked with doing. She certainly sensed that she was being watched but of course she was, this was an exam after all, and every Captain was hungrily observing the participants in the hopes of snapping up this year’s cream of the crop.

The time for the dreaded final round approached, and lead was quick to fill her stomach as she leant against the nearest pillar. Fighting was not her forte, in a similar vein to her eldest cousin, Alina preferred to be strategic with her magical abilities. Spatial magic was rare and highly valued, she knew that unless she made a complete pig’s ear of the situation that she would likely get at least one offer of placement. It didn’t make the thought any less grim as she wiped her sweaty palms on her bare thighs, bending at the waist to wipe away the dust that had kicked up on her legs.

Alina’s turn was not for some time and although it might have been wise for her to dutifully pay attention to the matches before her own, it was hard to concentrate when her mind wandered so freely. The daughter of two equally scatter-brained parents, it would have been a great shock if she had not picked up at least some of their traits and a vivid imagination was certainly something she owned.

She quickly became lost in a fantasy where she was welcomed into a squad that felt like a family, with nothing but warm smiles and encouraging words. The squad itself did not appear to be any that she recognised as actually existing, born from her mind alone, but it was true to say that this was what she wished for the most.

A warm tingle brushed against the back of her hand, Alina frowned and cast her eyes down to find the hairs raised but there was nothing obvious to have caused the warmth. The sensation continued to caress against her skin, a light dance of almost intrigue and wonder. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared and left her missing the mysterious presence.

Bursts of blazing heat enveloped her surroundings; Alina squealed and took a further step back into the shadows before turning to stare at the source of the heat. A boy stood with a fireball floating atop his open palm, his fingers wiggled almost as if he caressed the burning orb and a wicked smile blazed across his lightly tanned face.

He was the epitome of what she had been warned against all her life; the leather jacket, fingerless gloves and chain that wrapped around the side of his right hip screamed bad boy. A rebellious-looking youth that would likely cause her nothing but trouble and yet, she could not deny that he was intriguing. The mixture of black and silver hair forced her head to cock to the side and watching him fight was absolutely mesmerising.

His flame magic was impressive, the heat of the fireballs that he hurled like baseballs was searing even at this distance, but it was the speed that captivated her the most. Alina could barely tear her eyes away from the spectacle, his opponent was struggling to strike back, the vines of his plant magic being burned away as quickly as he could manifest them. A glint of mischief reflected from the blue-tinted glasses that served to obscure his eyes, he was boxing his opponent in and cutting off each attempt at retaliation at an alarming rate.

It was over in a flash; the intriguing boy was the well-deserved victor in the bout. He wore an expression of pride, and it was refreshing to note that there was no boastful edge to the emotion. Alina noted how his gaze flickered to the balcony along with the slight incline of his head. She mused as to who he could be acknowledging, her own eyes trailing upwards and passing over each of the Captains in turn. When she turned back, eyes of swirling mercury met her own and the warmth returned to the back of her hand.

He clutched his glasses in his fist as the other hand wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. His expression was that of hesitant curiosity, the pair continued to stare at one another for what felt like an eternity but was in fact barely a few seconds.

A lazy smile slid across his lips, drawing an almost silent gasp from her parted lips. All she could think of at that moment was how cute he looked, his brow quirked slightly and radiating energy she was entirely unfamiliar with. The warmth spread to her arm, and he took a step towards where she stood but before he could approach further, a bolt of lightning speared the ground behind him and sent everyone scattering for safety.

Alina retreated, panting quickly as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Two fingers rose to her left, the only part of her that did not shake with trepidation, ready to create a portal to safety should it be needed as she assessed the situation. She had been ripped away from the approaching boy, who had been sent tumbling to the ground and he rounded on the arena with anger tightening his features.

The next round was about to begin and the crazed-looking blonde kid that sent the lightning bolt was clearly out for blood.

[chudleycanonficfest]

Late Night in the Library

Day 31, Post #1 by @sp0okynerd

Title: Late Night in the Library  Author/Artist: AccioTardisKey (AO3+FFN) Pairing: Ron/Hermione Prompt: Studying together - also used the prompt "I just like hearing the sound of your voice" If you recognize it please let me know so I can credit Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

Rain pounded on the large windows of the Hogwarts Library, the rhythmic sounds almost like a lullaby.  It was a dreary day, and these were especially good days for studying, if you were to ask Hermione. Ron tried his best to hold back a yawn, and failed, as he and Hermione reached the three hour mark of their study session. 

The library was one of Ron’s least favorite places to study. The dim light often added to his desire to be sleeping. The table they sat at, in their usual back corner, was covered with stacks of books. He could barely see Hermione's hair over the top of some of the piles, and Ron laughed to himself as he wondered how close she was to reading every book in the building.  

He decided he was going to take this year seriously, more than he had in the past anyway. Because of this, he had taken up the habit of sitting and studying with Hermione in the library and the common room, often long after everyone had gone up to their dorms. So he was here tonight partly because he needed help with his History of Magic essay, but mostly because he really just loved to be near her. 

If he was lucky, he might convince her to stay up a little later for some ‘extra credit.’ 

She glanced at him momentarily as she flipped through a copy of History of Medieval Evil Doers. She looked very serious, her brows slightly furrowed,  as she read. But he could see the corners of her mouth threatening a smile when their eyes met. 

They were at the start of their 7th year at Hogwarts, where they were among the only ones from their year to come back after the war. Neville and a Ravenclaw named Lisa Turpin were the only others to join them. Ron had been wary of it at first; he didn’t know how he felt going back to the place that held some of his best and worst memories. Hermione did everything she could to convince him that finishing out his education was the right thing to do, and in the end he agreed with her. To his surprise, McGonagall had even decided to make him Head Boy. 

“Part of me is so scared to return,” Hermione admitted to him one night at The Burrow. They were snuggled close on a couch in the living room, enjoying the fire and the rare quiet that occurred only in the late night hours of the usually loud home. “But - I’m also excited to spend this year with you.”

It wasn’t that he disagreed with her, because he was excited too. A year at Hogwarts with Hermione Granger on his arm? As his proper girlfriend? This was something that he thought could only exist in his wildest fantasy. Things were just so different now, in many more ways than just his relationship status. They had experienced life faster than one should, and as a result he felt like both an adult and a child at the same time. Harry seemed so sure of himself, and took up an offer to start training at the auror academy right as the summer ended. When Ron was given a similar offer, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

The truth was, he didn’t know what direction he wanted to go. It was hard to decide what you want to do with your life when you’ve been chasing after dark wizards since age 11. He just didn’t see himself as an auror like Harry. He sometimes entertained the idea of helping George in the joke shop for a bit, but even that didn’t quite seem like a fit for him. Both of those would leave him still feeling in the shadow of someone else, and Ron Weasley was ready to find his own glory for once. 

So finishing out school seemed like the best idea. Maybe this year would be better than his previous years. Maybe this time he would come across something that he truly enjoyed. Through all of this uncertainty, though, there was one thing he knew for sure. Wherever he went, he wanted a certain beautiful, bossy, and brave witch beside him. 

Ron was beyond ready to tap out by the time he was finished with his essay. They needed to start rounds soon, but as usual Hermione still insisted there was just a little more work to be done. They were among the last in the library by this hour as curfew neared and his eyelids had begun to feel heavy.

He caught himself getting lost staring at the movement of her lips as she read a passage of the book out loud to him. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she read something that truly interested her, or how she would get just a little frazzled when she explained something to him that she was passionate about. He could watch her learn all day; it was one of his favorite looks of hers. When she learned, he could tell this was when she felt true joy. It was contagious, because every time he watched her he felt himself fall more in love with her. 

He was beginning to fade, his head nodding along to the lulling sound of her voice. He let himself drift off, images of their expanding future entering his mind. A lot had changed between them since their kiss in the Room of Requirement, things beyond his wildest dreams. Things between them grew quite serious over the summer. He began to ponder some of these moments, especially the ones involving little amounts of clothing in the broom shed, when he heard her snap her fingers in front of him.

“Can you say that again?” He muttered, eyes still closed.

Hermione let out a small huff. “Were you not listening to me?”

Ron let out a small chuckle of amusement. He loved to push her buttons, especially since he knew just how to cheer her up now. “No I was, I just like hearing the sound of your voice.” 

He let his eyes open to make contact with hers and he saw them immediately soften. 

“I guess it is getting to be time for rounds. We better pack up,” Hermione said. She got up and started levitating  a stack of books to send them to their correct locations one by one.

“Wanna snog a bit amongst the books before we go?” Ron said with a waggle of his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes at him, “so it's not a no, then?” And she gave him a laugh.

He took that as his answer as he stood up and closed the distance between them, one of the books crashing to the ground as she lowered her wand, but they didn’t even flinch. They were utterly lost in each other. And suddenly Ron had a new found love for the library.

[badassbuchanan]

No Goodbye Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: angst, cringe, mentions of grieving, soft!bucky

Word Count: 7474

A/N: I’m sorry for the poor quality of this, pls don't hate me

“Bucky, you know I have to do this.” Steve pressed his lips together as he looked sympathetically over at Bucky. His decision wasn’t an easy one, and his best friend trying to change his mind was only making it harder. “I’m leaving her with my best pal.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s shoulder reassuringly, witnessing the distress on his face, what Steve was asking him to do was huge. “It’s gunna be okay, Buck.”

Bucky sighed, trusting that Steve knew what was best as he wrapped his arms around his friend to say goodbye. “No matter what happens, she can never find out the truth, Buck.”

Bucky woke himself from the memory, the small strips of sunlight bleeding through the blind, the feminine smell of the sheets reminding him he wasn’t in his own bed. He quickly pushed his body to sit up, leaning on his metal hand that had pressed into the mattress, his heart racing as he scanned the room.

He sighed sadly as the overwhelming reminder of keeping a secret from the girl who had given herself to him last night took over. The world seemed a little brighter, but his thoughts stopped him from enjoying what should’ve been a peaceful morning.

His heart sunk as he ran his flesh hand through his unkept hair, seeing no sign of the girl he’d fallen asleep holding. There was a cold space where her body should’ve been, his eyes squeezing shut as his mind whirled with emotion.

Had she left him? Had she regretted what happened between them? Had she been too embarrassed to face him? Had she gone off telling the team that he was crap in bed? Bucky knew he hadn’t lasted as long as usually did last night, but it had been decades since he was last with a girl. Decades worth of sexual frustration. And Y/N had felt so warm and tight-

“Hey sleepyhead.” A soft voice came from the ensuite doorway, knocking him out of his thoughts as his head whipped around to see Y/N.

She was glowing. Her hair was tied back in a high pony tail, her body covered in a figure hugging training suit. Bucky’s heart pounded against his chest as he breathlessly watched her make her way over to him, all of his thoughts melting away at the sight of her.

He sat up a little straighter, his mouth subtly hanging open as he became enchanted, admiring her natural beauty. “Did you sleep okay?” She asked softly, her genuine concern evident as she stood beside him. She’d felt him jolt softly in his sleep, a small frown on his face and a pout on his lips, she knew he was dreaming. She wanted to wake him while it was happening, to make sure he was okay, but instead she’d soothed him by tracing soft patterns on his chest, knowing there was no chance of him pushing her away while he slept.

“Best sleep I’ve ever had.” He breathed out shakily, his eyes soft with adoration as he watched her play with her hands nervously. He wanted to reach out and pull her down, to hold her close and never let her go. But Bucky was sensitive to her thoughts and feelings after what they’d done last night, the guilt of knowing he had a secret only making him more nervous.

She smiled bashfully at his comment, keeping her eyes away from his as she traced her fingers lightly over his thigh which was covered by the duvet. Y/N wanted to wrap her arms around Bucky and stay in bed with him all day. But she too was cautious to discover where his head was at after their night together. He seemed to be treating her like glass, she could tell he was holding back from her and she was anxious to know why.

“Why are you up so early?” Bucky tried to distract his mind from his thoughts, unable to help the shy smile from curling up on his lips as he sweetly tilted his head. His flesh hand sneakily slid across his duvet covered thighs until it came into light contact with her fingers, testing her reaction to his touch.

“Training.” She breathed out softly, still smiling as she looked up into his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat as she took in the shirtless sight of the super soldier in her bed. “Are you planning on keeping my bed warm all day?” She joked lightly, her voice soft as she tried to distract herself from his gorgeous body.

“Figured I’d wait here until you got back.” He smiled dopily, making her giggle softly as he stretched his body forward, relaxing when he saw no sense of offput on her face. He snaked his arms around her waist, sitting back against the headboard as he tugged her into his lap. “Unless you wanna keep me company.”

She squealed as he pulled her down, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he watched her get comfortable, sitting sideways on his lap. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, her hand playing with the back of his hair as she relaxed into his touch. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat, the intimacy of the moment far too sentimental to be ruined by his thoughts.

Y/N longed to lean in and kiss his soft lips, already craving more after their night together. But there was still a slight reservation in her mind, she knew it would be foolish to jump head first into this without knowing how he felt, even when her heart was so desperately encouraging her to do so.

“Bucky.” She let out in a little whine as her head rested against his bare chest, feeling like there was so much she needed to say to him, but unsure as to where to start.

Bucky’s hand rubbed up and and down her back soothingly, his chin resting on top of her head as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “I know, doll.” He tried to reassure her that he knew she had a lot on her mind. And that they had a lot to discuss. He didn’t expect anything from her, he’d waited long enough to hold her like this, and he’d wait as long as it took. It also gave him time to figure out if he was going to tell her the truth or carry on living a lie.

A sudden knock on the door caught their attention. “Y/N.” Wanda’s voice called from the other side, causing Y/N to jump off of Bucky’s lap with urgency.

“Crap.” She whispered in a panic, turning around to face Bucky who was still sitting on the bed. Her eyes widened as she realised his clothes were thrown carelessly all over the room. It was no secret the super soldier spent almost every night in Y/N’s bed, the team knew that. But they didn’t need to know how far they’d taken their relationship last night.

“Coming!” Y/N walked quickly over to her door, tightening her pony tail as she went. She opened the door just enough to slip out of the room and greet Wanda, assuring the door shut properly behind her.

“So I see you and Barnes made up?” The red head chuckled in amusement, not even needing her mind reading powers to know what was going on with her friend.

Y/N huffed out as she smiled, her back staying protectively against her bedroom door. She stared back as the Scarlett Witch studied her face, her eyes twitching into a glare.

“You know I can read minds, right?” Wanda’s eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms, looking at the guilty looking girl in front of her.

“Get out of my head, Wanda!” Y/N’s eyes widened as a pink blush covered her cheeks, unable to stop thinking about how safe she’d felt with the super soldier’s body rocking against hers.

“Honey, I didn't need magic to hear the noises that were coming out of your room last night.” She smiled smugly, watching Y/N’s face drop in panic. Y/N felt her heart rate increase as embarrassment of the whole team knowing what she and Bucky had been up to washed over her body. Her mouth dropped open in shock, speechlessly standing there as her body temperature raised in humiliation.

“Relax, I was kidding.” Wanda added with a cheeky smile, her eyes lighting up as she realised her instincts had proved her well. Y/N shot her friend a glare, a little whine of shyness left her lips as Wanda’s head leaned back in laughter.

She watched the embarrassed girl silently walk away from her down the hallway, following close behind, excited to get to the training room so she could probe Y/N about her self-admitted night with Bucky.

——

Bucky decided to make his way back to his own room a little while later, coming to the conclusion that he needed to take a shower if he wanted to look his best for when Y/N finished up training. His stomach was still fluttering with butterflies as memories of the night before flooded through his mind.

He thought about Y/N as he showered, how she held him, the way her hair smelled, the little whimpers that left her lips, the way her eyes lit up the room. He smiled to himself as he thought about how she’d grown to trust him, before that gut wrenching guilt returned again. She’d grown to trust him, and he’d been betraying her the whole time.

He ruffled his hair against his towel as he walked back into his room, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Bucky threw the towel carelessly onto the floor, running his flesh hand through his towel dried hair.

He caught his reflection in the mirror, a soft smile flicking over his lips as he noticed the marks left on his body from the way she’d clung to him so tightly. He grabbed a clean t-shirt from the folded pile of laundry on his table, the one he hadn't gotten around to putting away.

Bucky did what he usually did in the mornings, find his way into the kitchen for breakfast. But he couldn’t even walk down the hallway of the compound without his heart sinking at the voice in his head, screaming that he was a liar.

“What up, cyborg?” Sam’s voice called out as he noticed Bucky entering the kitchen. He lifted his mug up to his lips, sipping the freshly made green tea as he analysed his friend’s more anxious than usual aura.

“Hey.” Bucky replied, his face straight, but not enough of a frown to give Sam confirmation that something was bothering him. He paid no attention to Sam as he grabbed a box of cereal from the cupboard, still lost in his thoughts about Y/N.

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what could’ve been the cause of the super soldier’s mood, scanning up and down his body as he prepared his breakfast. His eyes widened, dropping his gaze with a shocked smile as he noticed the reddened marks on Bucky’s neck and arm. “Sleep well, Sergeant?” He smirked, lifting his mug back to his lips.

“Like a baby.” Bucky mumbled dryly, his eyes fixed on watching the cereal pour into his bowl, his mind contemplating every possible outcome of telling Y/N the truth. He heard Sam chuckle, catching his attention as he walked over to grab the milk from the fridge. “Something funny, pigeon?”

“You just seem a little more relaxed today.” Sam spoke sarcastically, his signature smirk covering his face as he pressed his metal armed partner. “Looks good on you.” He continued, amusing himself as he spoke before he could stop himself. “Almost as good as those marks.”

“Shut it, bird brain.” Bucky’s head shot round to give Sam a threatening look as he slammed the fridge door shut, realising why his co-worker looked even more smug than usual.

Sam lifted his hands up in surrender after placing his mug on the kitchen worktop. “Hey, come on now.” He chuckled softly, having worked with Bucky enough to know when he’d pushed him too far. “I’m happy for you, bro. For real. You guys are great together.”

“Let’s just hope Y/N thinks so, too.” Bucky sighed softly, leaning his palms against the edge of the worktop as he tilted his head towards Sam. Bucky knew that Sam would never completely understand the weight of his words, the only person who knew as much as Bucky was Steve.

“Seriously?” Sam asked with a tone of shock, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to comprehend whether the metal armed soldier was trying to make a joke for the first time in his life. He knew Bucky was serious when he only raised his eyebrows as a response. “Are you blind, old man? That girl is devoted to you.”

Bucky sighed, knowing Sam was right, Y/N was devoted to him, she completely trusted him. He stood up straight as both boys crossed their arms against their chests. His head dropped as he tried to ignore the nagging voice in his head, he wanted to honour Steve’s last words to him, but falling for Y/N was making it increasingly difficult to stick to the promise he’d made his best friend.

“Have you told her the truth?” Sam asked, causing Bucky’s heart to sink at the other man’s words. The truth. “No matter what happens, she can never find out the truth, Buck.” The words unlocked the memory of Steve’s voice, echoing through Bucky’s mind, his eyes squeezing shut as he shook the memory away.

“What?” His head snapped towards Sam at his question, a deep crease appearing in the middle of Bucky’s forehead. His heart sunk as he once again was reminded of the secret he’d been carrying around since Steve left, the secret that he’d been keeping from Y/N.

“About how you feel,” Sam frowned in confusion at Bucky’s sudden snappiness, tilting his head slightly as he cautiously observed his friend. “Have you told Y/N how you feel?”

It didn’t ease Bucky at all to know that Sam wasn’t talking about the truth he was hiding from her. His heartbeat quickened as his nerves increased, how was he supposed to tell Y/N how he felt? How was he supposed to keep this secret from her knowing that she’d completely given him all of her trust.

A wave of guilt washed over Bucky as he pushed his bowl away from him, suddenly losing his appetite as he ran his hand through his hair stressfully. Steve had told Bucky that Y/N could never know the truth, but he’d never expected to grow this close to her, to have to lie to her every single day. Bucky couldn’t lose her, not now, she was his muse, his reason for existing.

His head started to spin as his body filled with anxiety. If he betrayed Steve and told Y/N the truth, she’d know he’d been keeping it from her, lying to her all this time. All the trust she’d slowly given him would be washed away in an instant. But could Bucky really live with himself, continuously earning more and more of her trust, knowing that he was hiding the truth from her?

“No,” Bucky breathed shakily, pressing his lips together as the battle continued on inside his mind. His eyes flickered back and forth nervously as he meditated on his thoughts, his mind completely clouded from anything else. “I haven’t told her.”

——

“So,” Wanda dragged out the word as she held up the punching pads for Y/N, who was stretching out her arms after the first round they’d just finished. “You and Bucky, huh?”

“What about me and Bucky?” Y/N asked dismissively, throwing a few practice punches at the pads in Wanda’s hands.

“Look it might’ve been a lucky guess earlier, but you don’t usually blush like that Y/N. Something must’ve happened between the two of you.” Wanda raised her eyebrows accusingly, curious to see how Y/N was feeling after her night with Bucky.

“Yeah,” Y/N breathed out as she dropped her hands in defeat, she knew it was useless lying to Wanda, she could literally read minds. “I guess something did happen.”

“And?” Wanda asked curiously as she tilted her head, tensing her arms as Y/N started throwing punches at the pads again.

“And, now I don’t know.” Y/N sighed in defeat, dropping her hands helplessly again as she lost focus of the training. “I care about him so much, Wanda. He’s been there for me every step of the way, he’s been so patient, and gentle. He’s my rock. But he’s never told me he feels for me as more than a friend.” She shrugged as her head dropped to her feet.

“Have you told him how you feel?” Wanda asked softly, aware of the sensitivity of the situation. She tilted her head as she watched Y/N lift her gaze, realising what Wanda was hinting at.

“No, but I think it’s pretty obvious.” She mumbled with a pout, dropping her head again as she tried to hide her smile.

“Well did you ever think, that just maybe, Bucky thinks he doesn’t need to tell you how he feels because his feelings are pretty obvious too?” Wanda spoke with a teasing tone, her eyebrows raising as she smiled amusingly at Y/N who was rolling her eyes with a chuckle. She knew Wanda was right, maybe she’d jumped to conclusions a little too soon. Or maybe she was scared of Bucky not reciprocating her feelings and losing him for good.

“Alright, good point Maximoff.” Y/N faked a glare at the red head as she pressed her glove covered hands on her hips. “I’ll confess my feelings to Buchanan later, but right now, it’s pads up.” She chuckled with a raise of her brow, throwing a hard punch as Wanda lifted the pads back up.

——

Y/N’s heart pounded in the cavity of her chest as she reached Bucky’s bedroom door. She’d finished training, had a shower and made sure she sprayed the perfume he always complimented. She sighed deeply, her nerves causing her hands to fiddle with the hem of her t-shirt nervously. This was it, she was really about to lay it all on the line, risk losing the person she was closest to in order to admit how she felt.

“Bucky?” Y/N’s voice dropped to a whisper as she opened the door to his room, her heart aching at the sight in front of her. He was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against his bed as his tear stained eyes stared up at the ceiling.

Bucky sniffed deeply as he tried to cover up his sadness, his glassy eyes catching hers as his head dropped forward to face her. His lips pressed together in a hard line, seeing her innocently standing in front of him only making his chest tighten as he started sobbing again.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She let out in a shaky voice as she rushed over to his side, wrapping her arms around him as she pulled his head against her chest. Only when he was pulled against her body did she notice the black and white photograph in his hand, a picture of him and Steve back in their prime. “You’re okay.”

Bucky’s heart broke as he felt her trying to soothe him, innocent to how much he’d been betraying her all along. His chest heaved as dread flooded through his body, knowing that he’d have to watch the pain in her eyes as he told her the truth. He couldn’t keep lying to her. He’d come to terms with what he’d done, willing to face the consequences in order to give her the truth she deserved.

“It’s gunna be okay, Buck.” She whispered sweetly as she placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head. She didn’t know why he was so upset, she didn’t need to know, all she wanted was to make him feel safe, the same way he did to her.

“Y/N,” He breathed out shakily as he lifted his head, his hands holding her waist as he tried to speak through his tears. His blue eyes caught hers, sadness on both of their faces as they felt each other’s pain. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears as her throat sunk into her stomach, an alarming fear coursing through her body as she listened to him speak. “Is this about last night?” She whispered sadly as her head dropped, worried that he regretted what had happened between them. That had to be it, what else could it be? “Look, we can just forget it ever-“

“Doll, no.” Bucky cut her off with a shake of his head, his eyes softening as he cupped her cheek in his hand, lifting his body to come face to face with her, dropping the photo he’d previously been holding in the process. “I promise, it’s not about last night.” He reassured her as his thumb rubbed soothingly over her tear stained skin.

She sighed as she waited for an elaboration from him, her head filled with worst case scenarios as he clenched his jaw. Bucky swallowed nervously, a sharp pain in his chest as the room filled with silence. He was battling internally, his words catching in his throat, trying to spit them out was even harder than he’d imagined.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” She admitted sadly, pulling her hands away from him as her head turned away from his hand. Her eyes closed as she tried to contain her tears, a flame of abandonment still in her tummy from when Steve left. Was Bucky about to do the same? Even after his promises.

He couldn’t object to her rejecting his touch, biting the inside of his lip as the war continued inside his mind. Steve was gone, he’d never know that he told Y/N the truth. But here she was, her heart breaking in front of him as she pushed him away, something he never wanted to happen. Something that might happen if she knew the truth.

Bucky’s heart stopped when he heard her sob, the noise she let out full of pain as her hands came up to cover her face. She’d been through so much heartache, her body tired and weak from all the emotion. Now, she dreaded the thought of having to go through it all again. “Just say it.” She squeaked out, his silence only prolonging the inevitable.

Bucky flinched at her words, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as he tried to wake up from the nightmare. His head spun as his mind filled with the sounds of her sobbing, his chest heaving with anxiety. He didn’t know how she was going to react, he didn’t want to lose her. What if she blamed him for everything? What if she walked out of his life for good?

Y/N’s eyes stung as her cheeks reddened with tears, wishing he’d just put her out of her misery. Was he leaving her? Had she been too needy? Did he regret what happened between them last night? Had he done it all out of sympathy? Just to make her crying stop. Had he found someone else? Had he been faking it all along? Was he sick of her sadness? Was he going to push her away? Did he not want her around anymore?

“God, Bucky, just say it.” She cried weakly, pulling her head from her hands as she looked over at him. His head hung in shame as he shook his head, he wasn’t ready to lose her. That was the only possible outcome once she knew the truth, once she knew what he’d been keeping from her this whole time. “Please.” She bit down on her bottom lip as it trembled, wanting the closure of a goodbye that she never got with Steve.

Bucky’s chest caved in as he heard her beg, swallowing the lump in his throat as he felt time stop, as if the universe stood still as the words left his lips. “Steve didn’t leave you to be with Peggy, Y/N.”

Y/N felt a flood of pain rush through her veins as she heard him mentioned Steve. She sighed as the air got caught in her throat, closing her watery eyes as she shook her head. His words were the last thing she’d ever expected to hear.

Bucky sniffed, his eyes red from crying as he tried to reach for her hand, looking over at her heartbroken face. Y/N slid her hand away from his hesitantly, certain that there was more he had to say.

“Why am I only finding out about this now?” She frowned in an attempt to stop the tears as her eyes saddened, feeling vulnerable and betrayed by the one person she’d learned to trust. Did he purposely wait until she finally felt a slither of happiness before he broke her heart? Was he doing it for his own satisfaction? Had he been mocking her this whole time, knowing that she hadn’t known the truth?

“I thought I was protecting you, Steve made me promise not to ever let you find out. But I can’t lie to you anymore Y/N, it’s killing me inside. I can’t live with myself knowing that I’m keeping this secret from the girl I love.” His voice broke as the words came out of his mouth without hesitation, finally admitting how he really felt about her. Bucky watched her face flinch with pain as her mind flooded with emotion, millions of thoughts whizzing through her head as she tried to comprehend his words.

“Then tell me the truth, Buck.” Y/N’s chest tightened as she felt all the emotion of losing Steve washing over her like a wave. The anxiety of abandonment, the loneliness, the heartache, it all clouded her mind enough for her to ignore Bucky’s confession. Her bottom lip trembled as she hugged her knee to her chest, tears dripping down onto the floor as she tried to make the pain subside.

“Steve left because it was the only way to keep you safe.” Bucky breathed out shakily, his own eyes pooling with tears as he watched Y/N helplessly break down beside him. He knew she wouldn’t understand, she was never meant to understand, she was never meant to know. He sighed sadly, there was no going back now, he’d have to tell her everything. “Y/N, I need you to look at me.”

His heart sunk as she helplessly did as he instructed, fighting through her pain to get to the truth, still so many questions left unanswered. Her jaw clenched tightly as her heart raced, coming to her senses enough to know that Bucky wouldn’t lie to her about something like this.

“Stay with me.” He whispered softly, trying to get her to focus on him as silent tears rolled down his cheeks, his gut full of dread. Her lips pressed into a pout as she fearfully looked up at him, looking like a helpless animal caught in a trap.

Her eyes fixed onto his deep blue ones, her heart beginning to steady itself as she listened to his voice, even in her worst moments, Bucky somehow managed to calm her. She felt his flesh hand slide into hers, not pulling away this time as she watched him blink nervously.

“I need you to tell me your earliest memory.” Bucky instructed as his eyebrows arched in sympathy, terrified of the outcome to the situation he was now responsible for. He knew exactly why Steve had told him not to tell her, and if he were still here, he’d kick his ass for letting her find out. But Steve wasn’t here. And Bucky knew she’d never forgive him if he didn’t tell her now. “Think, Y/N.”

Y/N wracked her brain hard, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown as she flickered between Bucky’s eyes. He saw the horror flash in her eyes as she let out a soft whimper, her mouth slightly parted as she shook her head. His heart sunk, knowing he’d just triggered an alarm in her brain that would cause her a dangerous level of trauma and stress.

“It- It’s me and you. In Wakanda.” Her eyes welled with tears, her body flooding with fear as she continued to glance between each of his eyes rapidly. “The day I met Steve - he came to check up on you after your surgery-” Y/N suddenly went into panic, her body shutting down as she gripped onto his hand tightly, shaking her head in disbelief as she closed her eyes. “Bucky I’m scared.” She sobbed desperately, her body trembling as her brain tried to comprehend it all.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” He soothed her softly, quickly scrambling closer, using his metal arm to catch her body. He pulled her against his chest, his eyes squeezing shut as his heart pounded against his chest, terrified of her reaction. “How did you get to Wakanda, Y/N?” He whispered with trepidation, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand as her head collapsed against his chest.

“I don’t know,” She sobbed desperately, letting her free hand cling to the material of his t-shirt as her head began to ache, burning up from how hard she was thinking. “I can’t remember anything before that day.” She choked slightly as her breathing became erratic, realising that all she’d ever known was this. How could that be her earliest memory, as if her life only started a few years ago, it was impossible. But where were her memories? “Bucky, why can’t I remember?”

His jaw clenched tightly, hating that he had to be the one to tell her, to put her through the pain of the truth that Steve had fought to protect her from. He sniffed softly, his chin resting on the top of her head as he held her close, trying to comfort her as much as he could. “We were broken when Steve found us, Y/N.” He stopped hesitantly, there was no easy way to say any of this. He took a deep breath, feeling her body jolting as she cried softly against his chest. “We were Hydra’s most lethal killing machines. Their most successful experiments.”

Bucky felt her head shaking in denial against him, her sobs becoming louder as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her. Her chest heaved as she breathed through her uncontrollable crying, gripping tightly to the soldier who’s tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“I had the metal arm, but I guess they’d improved since the 40’s. Maybe they realised giving their assassins a metal arm wasn’t very inconspicuous.” He breathed out shakily, her head moving with the heavy movements of his chest as he pulled her tighter against him, as if it would ease her pain. “Your body was left untouched. Not a single trace of experimentation, apart from a tiny little microchip they planted in your brain.”

“No.” Y/N breathed out as her body went into panic, her tears drenching through Bucky’s t-shirt as she felt her body growing weak.

“But they fixed us in Wakanda.” He whispered softly in hope it would make her feel better somehow. He lifted his hand to the back of her head, cradling it in his hand as he rubbed his thumb along her skull in an attempt to soothe her. “They didn’t have to remove your chip like they did my arm, Shuri had her team wipe the software that Hydra had programmed onto it. They rewrote the code so that Hydra wouldn’t be able to gain control of you.”

Y/N’s sobs continued as she listened to Bucky, her eyes squeezing shut as she learnt about her broken past.“Part of the process to re-write the code meant wiping any memory that may have triggered Hydra’s manipulation. We didn’t know much about you, where you came from, how long you’d been under Hydra’s control. So the most viable course of action was to wipe everything, it was the best chance they had of knowing you’d be safe.”

A dull ache wash over Y/N’s body, feeling violated and betrayed. Her head burned as she tried to come to terms with never knowing who she really was, a billion questions and thoughts racing through her mind. She was physically and mentally tired, too tired to process all of this, little whimpers leaving her lips as she listened to him.

“Your earliest memory of Steve coming to visit me, he was there to visit both of us, Y/N. You two met like it was the first time, and for you, it was. But you’d actually kicked his ass once before when he first found us.” Bucky let out a slight chuckle through his sobs at the memory of his best friend. It felt like a lifetime ago he watched her take out Cap’s legs and grab him in a choke hold. Nothing beat the look on Steve’s face when he realised just how powerful she was. “You not recognising Steve was when they knew for sure that the procedure had been a success.”

Bucky rubbed his thumb over her temple, feeling her trembling against him as she became overwhelmed with the realisation. Her whole world had crumbled around her, she sat there with Bucky in the rubble of her life, wondering if it was even worth trying to pick up the pieces. “You didn’t remember me either, or anything about us. It hurt to know you’d never remember all the memories we shared, all the things we did together. We were quite the team. But at least I knew we were safe and that was the most important thing.” He thought back to before Wakanda, all the missions they’d been on together, all the good times they’d shared, even then, it had always been just the two of them. All they had was each other. “You and Steve fell in love the day he came to bring us back from Wakanda, but I think the punk had a crush on you from back when you were kicking his ass in the street.” He chuckled to himself, hoping his words were calming her as much as they were himself.

But he was wrong. They weren’t. Her thoughts continued to churn through her mind, the little pieces of past making her head ache as she tried to put them together. She clung tightly to Bucky’s chest, digging her nails into his flesh as she pressed her head against him. “If I was fixed, why did he have to keep me safe?” She whispered shakily, her reddened eyes stinging from the saltiness of her tears. “Why did he have to leave?”

Bucky’s face dropped in agony, the reason behind Steve leaving now the only secret he was hiding from her, well, almost the only secret. It wasn’t as simple as telling her about her unknown past, he had to try and justify Steve’s decision to the person who loved him the most, who’s whole life had revolved around Steve. “These people, worse than Hydra found out about us, they kept threatening Steve, tormenting him about how they were going to take you away from him, turn you back into a kille- an assassin.” Bucky stopped himself after thinking about his words, having been through the troubling process of coming to terms with his past himself. “He’d just gone through losing Tony and Nat, his mind was a mess. He couldn’t bare the thought of losing you, too.”

Y/N breathed out shakily as her heart felt like giving up, she’d been through too many sleepless nights wondering why Steve never said goodbye, now she was finally getting her answer, the truth hurt so much more. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, helplessly sobbing as she leaned the truth behind Steve’s departure.

“He knew they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted. He told me the risk was too high, their threats weren’t as empty as he’d originally hoped. They told him he had to sacrifice himself, to never return if he wanted you to be safe.” He continued as he felt her gasping for air between cries, his eyes closing weakly as he felt her pain. “Steve realised there was only one way to make sure they kept their end of the bargain, to make sure they never came near you again. He went back to destroy the weapon that Hydra had planted in your brain.” Bucky sniffed as his fingers massaged the back of her head, dropping his head to press his cheek against hers. “He had to make sure the thing that controlled you was never invented, so that they would have no reason to come after you.”

Y/N fell still, her head spinning, overwhelmed by the amount of information she was being told. It all become too much for her to handle, she didn’t want to listen anymore, she’d heard enough. She shook her head, refusing to know anymore than she already did.

“His plan was to find you once he’d completed his mission. To earn your love and make a life for the both of you, one where you’d both be safe.” Bucky’s words made Y/N wince in agony, somewhere out there, Steve was with her, they had a life together, one that she would never know.

Her tears fell silently down her face as she hung her head, a sudden shell of hardness covering her body as she swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “You knew this all along.” She whispered out sadly, blinking rapidly in an attempt to control her tears as her hands dropped from his body. It wasn't a question, she knew it was true.

Bucky’s heart sunk as a wave of anxiety flooded his body, his chest heaving as his eyebrows arched softly. “I was just doing what Steve-”

“You listened to me blame him.” Her voice shook in a mixture of pain and sadness, the world around her darkening. “You spent countless sleepless nights with me, watching me tormented at not knowing why Steve had left.” She pressed her lips together in a hard line, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. “And all the time, you knew.”

“Y/N,” Bucky pleaded sadly in defeat, listening to the weakness of her voice. He’d never meant to hurt her, he never wanted to cause her any pain. “I’m so sorry.”He cried as his flesh hand came up to wipe away his tears. “Please, you have to believe me.” He whispered softly, desperately reaching his hand out towards her, flinching slightly when he felt her push him away.

“I can’t do this.” She shook her head, panic setting in as her heart thudded repeatedly against her chest. He was hurting just as much as she was. His eyes were flooded with tears, his bottom lip trembling as he avoided her gaze. Y/N felt the darkness of the room engulf her as she stood up, her head spinning as shallow breaths left her lips. She sighed deeply as she turned her head towards the door.

Bucky sobbed as he watched her leave him alone in the dark. His heart ached, knowing that he’d broken her heart and there was nothing he could do to fix it. His head dropped back in agony as he heard the door close behind her, wondering if he’d ever get to make it up to her. Wondering if he even deserved the chance.

Y/N sobbed weakly as her head dropped in defeat, her heart sinking as she found her way back to her empty room. She’d finally got the confession from Bucky that she wanted, but now it caused her more pain than joy. Maybe she wasn’t worthy of happiness. Maybe all this pain was karma for the pain she’d caused others under Hydra’s control.

Bucky’s body weakened, feeling sick to his stomach as he sat there alone in the darkness. Everything she’d said was true, he couldn’t argue, he knew how much he’d kept from her. He thought he was doing what was best, but all he’d been doing was delaying her pain.

——

It was the longest, loneliest night either of them had persevered through. Neither of them slept, both haunted by the night before. Y/N longed to feel Bucky’s warmth against her, holding her close and keeping her safe. She couldn’t blame him for trying to honour Steve’s wish, she’d realised that around 3am.

Bucky was tortured by her absence, wondering if she was okay, if she was hurting as much as he was. He didn't regret his decision to tell her the truth, the same way he was sure Steve wouldn’t be regretting his decision to leave in order to save her. Now more than ever, he understood Steve’s decision. Both of them had caused her pain, but they’d done it out of love.

Despite his best efforts to avoid any sort of human contact, Bucky was met by Wanda in the kitchen. He sighed deeply, keeping his head down as he silently poured himself a cup of water.

“Bucky,” Wanda spoke softly, walking over to stand opposite him. He glanced up at her quickly, his eyes still red from all of the crying he’d done, hoping she’d get the message. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Sorry, Wanda, now’s not really a good time.” Bucky mumbled his response, hoping that the Scarlett Witch would accept his wish and let him be. The pain from last night was still fresh, and no one apart from Bucky and Y/N had known what had unfolded.

“It’s about Y/N.” Wanda added quickly, her eyebrows arching slightly, hoping he’d take the time to listen. Her fingers tapped on the edge of the worktop, nervously trying to gauge the reaction of the obviously miserable super soldier.

“What about Y/N?” Bucky asked anxiously, a million thoughts flying through his head. His chest tightened as he glared at Wanda with a deep frown, anticipating what she had to say.

“Remember when you caught me casting a spell to let her see Steve?” Wanda started softly, her heart racing as she observed his reaction carefully. Bucky’s head nodded in confirmation, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for her to continue. “Y/N saw you while she was under the spell.” She elaborated, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to catch on.

“So?” Bucky frowned with a shrug of his shoulders.

“So,” Wanda dragged out the word slightly. “It’s a lovers spell, Bucky. Whilst under it, you are only able to see people who you’re in love with.” She explained with a soft smile, watching Bucky’s eyes widen slightly as he finally began to understand. “Y/N is in love with you.”

“I have to go.” Bucky mumbled quickly, carelessly slamming the glass of water down on the kitchen worktop as he rushed out of the room. He didn’t care that she’d probably not want to talk to him after last night, he didn’t care that she’d probably yell at him to go away. All he cared about was seeing her.

He turned the handle on the door, bursting into Y/N’s bedroom without knocking as his chest heaved. “Bucky!” Y/N squealed in shock, her eyes widening as she turned to face the super soldier from where she stood at the end of her bed.

“Do you love me?” He panted out breathlessly, anxious to know if it was true, if she did in fact feel the same way as he did. He didn’t care that she probably never wanted to see him again after last night, Wanda’s words echoing through his mind, taking control of his senses.

“Bucky, you can’t just barge in here-“

“Do you love me?” He yelled desperately, walking towards her as Y/N’s face softened in shock. She watched his eyes glisten with hope, her heart racing as he stood in front of her.

He looked down at the girl in front of him, the girl he’d held close every night, the girl he’d loved silently for far too long. Every treasured moment came crashing through his mind, his chest heaving as he longed to hear her confirm what Wanda had told him.

Y/N breathed out shakily as she looked up at him, the man who’d been there for her through every tear, every sleepless night. The man she’d learned to trust, the man who made her feel safe, the man who felt like home to her. The man who she couldn’t imagine her life without. Her heart thudded against her chest as butterflies filled her tummy, an overwhelming amount of emotion coursing through her body, she’d never felt more vulnerable. “Yes.” She whispered softly, everything around them fading away as they kept their eyes on each other. “Bucky, I love you.”

He pressed his lips softly against hers, feeling her immediately respond as she kissed him back. They sighed into the kiss, a huge weight lifting off of them both as they finally accepted their love for one another.

And in that moment, they finally believed that everything was going to be okay.

tag list:

@harrysthiccthighss

@annestine

@bestofbucky

@be-patient-be-good

@nothing0is4here

@velvetcardiganbucky

@sexwithhiddlesbatch

@codyl-angdon

@marveljunkieee

@melchills-j​

@permanent-lines​

[dracosathenaeum]

OBLIVIATE | D.M.  ABANDONED FIC OUTLINE

Hello~

I’ve had this fic for @fuckingdraco ‘s writing challenge outlined for almost a year now. Half of it is a skeleton; i have some scenes which are fully written out and others which are just first drafts and idea dumps. this is quite literally copied and pasted so good luck if you read it.

I never had the heart to completely delete it but never liked it enough to write it; so here is my 2.2k draft fo what would’ve been a series. 

If anyone decides to read it, be warned, it’s a mess. i just didnt want it to die in my notes so it’s having a life here, in my new section of my masterlist ‘fics that never saw the light of day’.

warnings: memory loss, fight scenes, gore, fighting

//

Being in a secret relationships had its ups and downs

You had to sneak around

But that just made the moments you were together so much more meaningful

You couldn’t brag about him to your friends

But the both of you were quite private people anyways, explaining your absences as studying in odd places

No one ever found out

It was just you and draco

The summer of 5th year was hard as he spent all of it in the south of France with his family

But it made coming back in 6th year so much more exciting

your fingers ached to touch him as you walked past his carriage

It was moments like this that you wish you could openly love him

But when your friends started gossiping about how Harry Potter thought he’d become a death eater, you were suddenly glad you weren’t linked to him publicly

That thought itself set a heavy weight of guilt on you

He came back in 6th year and he had changed

His kisses lost their spark

His eyes lost their light

He’d fuck you rough and hard, almost as if forgetting himself. Before making it up to you in the next instance

Slow love making that made you feel like you had just slept with an entirely different person

You followed him

You supposed you shouldn’t have

But he was skipping meals and you couldn’t exactly talk to his friends when they didn’t know you

You couldn’t confide in your friends as they wouldn’t understand

So you had no other choice

You followed him throughout the nights, and every time you would find him slipping into the room of requirement when he should’ve been slipping into bed with you

Once you had gauged what time he usually went and on what days you yourself went, 10 minutes before he was due

You watch as he fiddles around some ancient looking cupboard and you wonder why you’re jealous of a dead tree taking up dracos time

You watch as he sends things through, until finally it works for him

But its not happiness on his face nor relief

It looks like dread

He doesn’t look like he’s accomplished something, no there was no way

You watch as he takes off his tie, throwing it in the pile of robes and jumper

You watch as he rolled up the sleeves to his arms, the arms that had held you up more times than you could count

And you watch as the dark snaking lines of the dark mark are exposed on your lovers skin

His eyes whip round to see yours, instantly widening in fear

It isn’t until you try to walk towards him and he throws his hands up to stop you do you realise the shattered glass littered around you

He flicks his wand and you walk over, standing in front of him trying to figure out why

“How did you hide it from me for so long.”

“Simple charms, I was hoping you wouldn’t have to find out.”

More dialogue where he explains

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

Draco please

“I can’t, I had to take this on my skin because my father fucked up”

“If I, if I stop now, I cant save my mother”

“Draco please, we can find a way around this”

You kiss him

And it feels like you’ve both gone back to before 6th year

When times were simpler

When he loved you and you loved him and that was it

No other interruptions

“Oblivate”

PART 1

“Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Draco Malfoy, we share some classes but we haven’t spoken before.”

“Oh, im sorry, of course. I’m really tired I dont usually forget peoples names I swear. I must’ve been so tired I wandered in, I apologise.”

“It’s okay, the doors over there.” You take that as his polite cue of asking you to leave

He offers a tight smile, one you remember from first year, one you remember seeing across the hall as he’s shut down by Harry Potter

Poor guy must be going through something

“Y/n”

you turn, you dont even hesitate. You dont know what it is but you feel as if you’ve known him all your life

You change and you see a gold ring dangling from a dainty gold chain. You ask your friends if they’ve seen it before

im forgetting so much these days

But you keep it on, it brings you an odd sense of comfort

You keep it tucked beneath your blouse, bringing it to you lips on occasion when youre anxious.

//

He had forgotten about his ring, the very ring you had clasped between your thumb and finger as you worked on your essay. How was he possibly supposed to get it from you

he’s well aware he’s staring but his mind is whirling

He needs that ring

“Draco, isn’t that your ring?”

He should’ve obligated himself, that might’ve been easier

“I’m sure it just looks similar.”

“Draco, we both know that’s the Malfoy famlily crest, I wondered why you stopped wearing it.”

“Wait did she steal it?”

misplaced it

She picked it up

He had to awkwardly walk over to pick it up

“That’s my ring.” You had told him all about how your friends hated him and how you had feigned indifference the entire time

He had to act the part

Youre flustered, eyes flicking between the ring and him, fingers clasping it tighter as if not wanting to let it go

He notices and his heart clenches at the sight

Remembering the night he gave it to you

*flash back*

“I’m so sorry, I must’ve picked it up by accident here.”

“Wait, how do you even know it’s his, prove it Malfoy.”

“My vaults could buy Hogwarts, why would I be stealing gold from a nobody?”

Your cheeks flare up and your friends glare at him but see his side

You struggle to unclasp it, and of course you fucking do because his stupid fucking ass charmed it so only he could take it off

he watches as you struggle with it, turning to a friend to help before you have 6 girls pulling at the very expensive chain on your neck

“For fucks sake youre going to damage it, let me.”

Your breath hitches as his surprisingly warm fingers brush your hair out of the way, fingers working quick to unclasp the necklace, the weight of it leaving your neck and you feel surprisingly empty

“Thank you.”

You watch as he goes, your fingers scratching over your neck, feeling something bubble in your throat

This was pathetic, you were so sad over something that was never yours in the first place

You spend the remainder of the time trying to figure out how you cam to be in possession of it in the first place

//

your name is written in beautiful cursive on a letter that you cannot help but love

You turn it over to see a beautiful wax seal on it, fingers trembling as you break it

The chain is yours.

d.m.

You tilt the envelope over into your hand to feel the familiar weight of the chain in your hand, clasping it around you neck in an instant

You look in the mirror but you dont recognise yourself

Your friends are surprised when you study with them

When you go back to your dorm room at a reasonable time

And you dont have a clue where it is they think you go

But how could you possibly explain to someone what you font remember

The chain is too light around you neck, its just not the same, it feels as if it’s chocking you rather than bringing you comfort

You start digging through your trunk and draws, looking for something to act as a pendant before you finally do.

Hidden at the back of one of your draws you find a little velvet box you dont remember stashing away. But then again, you dont seem to be remembering much these days.

Its a tiny little constellation of stars, charmed to sparkle and you heart wonders why you had never worn it before. It was a simple little charm but once hooked onto the necklace, you look at yourself in the mirror and finally feel as though a little part of you has returned.

PART 2 THE CONSTELLATION IS DRACO

6th and 7th years are a blur

A blur of horror

You dont really understand how life had changed so abruptly

You dont know how you end up fighting in a war at the age of just 18 but here you are

Draco stands with Hogwarts

And then his mother calls

You’ve seen him

Of course you have

You know what he is, know what his parents are

But you also know what he has done to make Hogwarts more bearable for you under the Carrows watch

The small things, diverging attention away from you and your friends

He wasn’t evil and some part of you knew that

You watch as he takes a shuddering breath and starts to walk

You watch as no one stops him

You watch as he loses more of his soul with each step towards mr no-nose

You dont know why you do it

You run

Your friends call your names, teachers joining in

They think youre joining the other side, they think youre fucked in the head, as they had since that incident in 6th year

But no, you were just missing something

you catch up to him pretty quickly, pulling him to a stop

“Ah, another to join my cause. Welcome young lady.”

“You know me. Im missing something but whenever I’m with you, whenever im holding this stupid constellation close to my heart, I feel at ease. Why”

he stares at you incredulously, and why wouldn’t he. Youre in the middle of a battlefield, Harry Potter has just been declared dead and Voldemort is less than a meter away

But you dont feel scared

And you feel stupid for not feeling scared

“It has felt like I dont even know who I am for the past 2 years, what did you do to me?”

You know everyones watching, you can hear the gasps on both sides as they think the worst of him

“I did what was necessary.” That was the first time he had spoken more than 2 words to you since he had gotten his necklace back that day in the library

“Draco, this is no time to be flirting. Come join me, bring her with you if you want.”

He tenses as voldy rests a boney hand on his shoulder, pulling him towards the other side, away from you

“If you won’t be joining us, we will use you an example of what will happen if you dont join us.”

You stare at him unfazed, fear was something you had gotten used to

Your fingers grip your wand in hand, running through all the spell harry had taught you in the da but its not enough

You are no match for voldy as he throws an unforgivable at you

You hear screams around you but all you hear is silence, as if the world had finally gone silent

//

Draco watched as the spell hit you directly in the chest. He had spent 2 years living with his actions all for it to have gone to naught in a single second

He watched as the light from his wand hits you

Before rebounding off you as if it hit a shield

There’s a flash of black and his mother is infront of him, wand out from deflecting the spell from bouncing back and hitting him

“Mother?”

“She’s important to you?”

“She gave him one of the fucking family heirlooms, either she’s important to him or he’s an idiot”

His parents were… bickering in the middle of a battle

voldy recollects himself but before he can talk neville speaks up “I have no idea what’s going on but-”

Draco drowns out the noise as he stares at you on the floor, youre covered in dust and in blood but youre alive

He hears screams as harry rolls from hatreds arms, he hears the cries from death eaters but all can see is you

“We’re switching sides now?”

“I mean he’s fairly distracted, he won’t have time to hunt us down, we owe it to our son.”

Fight scene

You remember everything

Fred Weasley teases the both of you, “we have a war to win, you can fuck later.”

He copy his lazy grin, a grin that lights you up, a grin that reminds you what’s left to fight for

You see the spell before he does

Youre in an arms reach of him but Draco cant reach you in time

You push Fred to the floor, putting yourself in the line of fire by default and draco has to watch you get hit all over again

“We need to talk about what exactly it is ive been wearing around my neck this entire time.”

“I think only my mother can answer that.”

[if you made it this far, send me an ask with the word ‘chicken’ and i’ll send you a cursed photo xx]

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 3 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Baby," a voice cooed at you while hands gently shook your shoulders, stirring you from sleep.

"Come on. Get up. The sun's gonna be rising soon," he continued, speaking to you softly.

You groaned like a wounded animal and tried to resist the pull to consciousness, hoping you could slip back away and he would cease this assault.

Of course, that didn't happen, and the murmuring and shaking didn't come to an end. You found yourself turning around and groggily taking in the sight of Hawks. He already looked wide awake, gold eyes beaming, skin glowing, handsome face as immaculate as ever.

It made you want to punch him.

"Get up," he said, more so telling than asking, albeit politely.

He had warned you last night that he intended to wake you early; but, that didn't stop you from groaning tiredly, rolling over, as if in protest, before complying with his request, removing the blanket slowly, afraid to expose yourself to the cold.

He had stoked the fireplace before waking you; that much was clear, seeing as it wasn't blistering cold when you wiggled out of bed. It was chilly, of course, but not enough to leave you trembling helplessly.

You realized that Hawks had already dressed himself, boots thumping quietly on the floor as he stepped around the bed. He had slipped on a grey T-shirt, and didn't seem to be feeling cold at all, judging by the lax way he rolled his shoulders, wings jutting out from his back gracefully.

He gave you a sideways glance, an almost untrusting look written across his face.

"I'm getting up!" you hissed at him.

Hawks wasn't expecting that sudden outburst and flinched a little, eyes widening slightly and feathers shuddering behind him. It was a comical sight, if you were being honest. It wasn't like him to be so high strung.

Before you could assume you had upset him, Hawks blew raspberries and turned away, heading for the stairs.

When he walked away, you most certainly did not admire the way his cargo pants hugged his ass, nor the way his shirt was pulled tight across the plains of his muscular back, nor how his crimson feathers looked so beautiful draped behind him.

Hawks didn't laugh when you met him downstairs; but, he sure looked like he wanted to. Here he was wearing some loose, comfortable clothes like it hadn't snowed all night, while you were dressed up in thick pants and a heavy coat with multiple layers underneath, ready to weather the elements.

As soon as you stepped downstairs, you were hit with the familiar smell of coffee lofting about the cabin. You recognized the aroma as his favorite, the one he stockpiled at the agency, that was almost always coming from his office.

He had taken the time to pour you some, as well, evident by the mug he was trying to hand to you with a suspiciously innocent look on his face.

"Seriously?" you laughed when you eyed the receptacle he was offering.

It was his merch, clearly. The mug was black with sparkly gold trim, the pattern matching the chest on his jumpsuit . It was covered in comic book style quotation marks containing, what you were guessing, was supposed to be his quotes.

Hawks watched you admire the cup, looking a little too smug for his own good, and returned to sipping from the very plain mug in his other hand.

"Do you really say these things?" you laughed, not expecting an answer because there was no way such nonsense flew from his mouth in the middle of a fight.

"Aheh. 'I am speed'," you read aloud with a scoff. "More like, 'I do speed'," you teased with a grin, catching the way he almost choked on his coffee, shoulders trembling with laughter.

"Who the hell approved these?" you added on.

"The hero commission, I think," Hawks replied, shrugging his shoulders a little.

The coffee, of course, tasted great. He bought the expensive, high-class stuff, after all. Hawks was the only person you knew who could sleep in the dirt with his visor skewed across his face, without a complaint to be had, but refused to drink anything but imported, specially grown coffee beans.

He was ushering you out the door the second you were finished with your coffee, pushing you out into the snowy forestscape, hands grabby and wings fluttering anxiously.

Before you could shudder and complain about the cold, Hawks scooped you up into his arms, kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot, and took to the sky.

You couldn't believe he was out here without a jacket on. Your fully covered arms clung to him for dear life, shivering and trembling in the cold. He wasn't flying particularly fast; but, the winds felt punishing, ice cold biting at your cheeks and seeping in through your clothes.

You were too cold to really appreciate the beauty of the forest covered in freshly poured snow. The glistening, white peaks sparkled like something out of a fairytale in the dimly lit morning light.

"Come on, babe," Hawks cooed, turning his head to blow hot air right on your ear.

Well, no wonder he wasn't cold. It seemed to make sense to you, then, why he went into his rut during these times of the year. He was generating enough heat to be a transportable furnace.

"If you keep clinging to me like that, you're gonna miss the view," Hawks uttered, so close that his lips moved against your skin as he spoke.

You peeled back from him, away from the warmth you were desperately trying to steal. He hadn't stopped flying yet, but slowed down a bit.

"O-oh..." you whispered, taking in the snowy wilderness.

A few miles past the cabin's backyard was a cliff that dipped down into rolling mountains. He had flown overhead, granting a wonderful view of the many acres of untouched wilderness, towering trees and lush forest landscape over rolling hills and mountains.

But, Hawks hadn't dragged you out here at the crack of dawn just to see the snowy landscape. He wanted you out here right at sunrise for a very specific reason.

He had made it just in time for the sun to peak out from the horizon line, like a giant glimpsing through the trees on the mountain top.

The sun was shining a mystical light across the mountains. The overcast clouds were dark purple gliding across crystal clear, blue skies. Rays of red sunlight glided through the trees while gold laid out across the piles of snow like a glistening blanket.

"See?" Hawks murmured, his flight coming to a halt.

He hovered, fairly high up, wings flapping gently, arms still wound tight around you, holding you close. There was a gentle breeze brushing through his hair, causing the feathery strands to tickle at your cheeks.

While you were looking at the landscape in awe, he was staring at you. The sunlight lit up your face and reflected heavily on your eyes, making them glow like crystal orbs. You had finally stopped shivering, too in awe at the sight to notice the chilling bite of the wind.

He didn't say it aloud; but, the most beautiful thing in the sunrise was you.

He liked to tell himself that the rut was making him mushy, emotional. Surely, powerful pro-hero Hawks couldn't be this soft? But, he knew his rut was only amplifying what he already felt so strongly.

His rut made him less inhibited, surfaced darker, feral desires that lay in waiting under layers of discipline he had spent most of his life building.

Even without his rut, you had a power over him he couldn't deny, the power to break him, to peel back the masks he wore, to melt away his self-control, until he was reduced to a desperate animal.

Oh, but the beauty of it all was that you loved that side of him. You had proved to him that you loved every side of him, even the parts that he tried so desperately hard to ensure would never see the light of day.

Even if he could blame his desires on his mutation, that didn't change that he was an assassin, for heroes, yes, but a murderer none the less.

You-

-you knew that, and yet, still, those soft hands held him as if he was untainted. You purred beneath his touch as if those weren't the same hands he had used to kill.

"Keigo?" you hummed.

Just like that, there you were again, freeing him from the torment of his own mind, a lifeline to free him from drowning in the ocean.

"Thank you for this," you uttered, turning your head to look at him.

God, he was beautiful. His gold irises were amplified by the sunlight, like shiny coins in a wishing well, taking in the sight of you shamelessly.

The bird-like curve of his eyelids already gave him a mystical appearance, now further illuminated by the rays of light shining down from above. The wind was blowing, tossing his already frazzled hair in a senseless dance.

The bright red plumes that made up the shape of his wings looked like something out of a dream. In the sunlight, the feathers glowed magnificent crimson, glowing in sharp contrast to the pale white, wintery landscape.

Your hands, that had been gripping his shoulders during the flight, wove up the back of his neck, fingertips touching the trimmed hairs there. You felt his hands tighten where they were holding you, his arms weaving tighter, as if he could get you closer.

"Do you like it here?" Hawks uttered softly.

His tone concerned you a little, as if he was sincerely worried that you were a prisoner here.

You smiled, replying, "it's the first time we've gotten to truly be alone. I'm enjoying myself more than you think."

His gaze softened at your words. A couple of your fingers played with the soft, short hairs at the top of his neck. He felt unbearably warm there, skin slightly damp with sweat. It was startling, considering how cold it was outside.

You felt the soft brush of his lips and let your eyes flutter shut. He was slow, careful, like he was tasting something new and delicious for the first time.

When he pulled back and tilted his head, you felt the faintest drag of his chin across your cheek, felt the fine hairs of his beard tickle your skin.

He hadn't shaved in a couple weeks, leaving you to see him in a mess than most didn't get the honor of. The normally neatly trimmed hairs he shaved down to a fine patch on his chin were now covering most of his jawline, the same beautiful, pale blonde as the hair on his head.

Tantalized, you leaned in, nuzzling your cheek against his jaw, before tilting your head back and feeling the drag of his soft beard against your skin. It felt good, maybe a little too good, and you failed to suppress a quiet gasp.

When you had pulled back far enough to catch his gaze, you immediately realized his eyes had changed. The calm was gone; now, something akin to a storm was brewing underneath.

It was a look you were very familiar with.

He let out a low exhale, as if he had been holding his breath. Your name fell from his lips, low and sultry, a warning, or a curse, and it made you shudder.

Hawks tilted back suddenly and started a sharp decent downward. Having flown together many times, you weren't afraid. The arms around his shoulders tightened and you let out a soft gasp, but more so out of surprise than fear.

His wings fanned out and took him sharply soaring through the trees at a speed much faster than he had brought you here. His grip on you was almost painfully tight, as if his fingers were trying to dig past the fabric of your clothes to get to your skin.

Excitement made you forget about the biting cold, the forest around you distorted almost violently. Suddenly, the cabin door was creaking and then being slammed shut. You hadn't even seen the cabin come into view. Everything felt like a daze.

He flew up to the loft and dropped you unceremoniously at the edge of the bed. The tumble had resulted in you facing away from him; but, you could feel his eyes burning through you.

"Take off your clothes," Hawks commanded, his voice oddly polite despite the nature of his request.

Just as soon as you started working your jacket off, he was kneeling to pull at the laces on your boots. He was strangely gentle when he pulled your shoes off, less so when he tossed them aside. As you worked your shirt off, he pulled your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, leaving you mostly bare and cold.

You rotated around and leaned up on your elbows, catching his cold stare, indicating that you were not done yet. You peeled your socks off, feeling a rush of excitement at the look he was giving you.

Hawks usually wore a kind, harmless face, not that it was unnatural, for he truly was a good person. However, most could easily forget or be blind to how powerful he was.

Now, in his gold eyes, that was what you saw, the reality that he could take whatever he wanted, when he wanted. You didn't have to be reminded, for every sparring and training session did just that: you couldn't best him if your life depended on it.

Still, Hawks wasn't that kind of person. He was the kind of loved, often times so passionately that you feared you couldn't keep up.

Even now, when his hands took hold of your waist, his body language dominating, wings spread wide behind him, you felt loved.

An amused sound, like a hum, rumbled out of his chest as he carefully maneuvered you around.

You were compliant, letting him roll you around and push your chest down into the bed. The hand on your back was gentle, but commanding, fingers splayed wide in the space between your shoulder blades.

Instead of nudging your thighs with his hands, a boot-clad toe poked between your ankles, commanding you to spread your legs, which you did with a low moan. You leaned up on your toes, presenting to him like an animal.

The sight threatened to send him into a spiral, and you felt his clothed body fall over you, pushing you down into the bed.

His wings flapped once, sending a sharp gust of wind spiraling around the room. There was a painfully obvious contrast between the soft texture of his shirt and the rough texture of his pants.

He made it very clear, with a roll of his hips, that he was ready to take you. The feeling of his clothed erection against your sex, combined with the knowledge that he could just slip right in without preamble, had you mewling.

"You like this," Hawks observed, the words like thunder as they rolled off his tongue.

He retreated, suddenly reeling back and standing behind you, warmth leaving along with him.

"You like when I just take?" he asked, accentuating 'take' with a smack to the back of your thigh. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it did manage to startle a yelp out of you.

"Yeah," he uttered lowly, agreeing with his own observations. "You like being Hawks' little plaything," he continued, almost purring the words.

Your delirious brain didn't really know what to expect next. When you heard a thump, you had no idea what to make of it, until you felt breath on your skin and realized that was the sound of Hawks' falling onto his knees behind you.

He didn't waste any time diving in, lapping a heavy tongue across your slit, from top to bottom. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still while his tongue breached your entrance.

If his enthusiasm and lack of grace wasn't enough, the rumbling sound he made was enough to make it obvious he liked it.

You couldn't fathom that your taste could possibly be that good; however, you didn't dare comment, especially not when he was doing things with his tongue that shouldn't be humanly possible.

A rough smack to your behind startled you from a delirious daze of pleasure. You yelped quietly, but otherwise remained compliant. When he smacked you again, this time growling faintly into your sex, it was clear he wanted something that you weren't delivering; but, you didn't know what.

"K-Keigo, what-" you whined, breaking off into a howl when he smacked you again.

Normally, such a touch would have you instinctively shriveling away; however, his grip on you was tight, and it kept you still.

Hawks smacked you again, you helplessly cried out, again, and the sound faded into moans that you couldn't possibly contain with what he was doing. You started to wonder, when another smack was delivered, if he was just doing that for his own amusement.

Eventually, he stopped and leaned back, rising to his feet. His hand slid over yours, large palm practically swallowing yours, and guided it back to your sex. You rotated a little, angling your body to follow his movement.

"Feel that," he gently commanded. "How wet and warm you are for me."

You heard the floorboard creak as he leaned back, clearly to get a good view. You did as he requested, immediately driving two fingers into yourself. Sure enough, you were slippery, walls compliant and squishy, and unbelievably warm inside.

Being ready for him with little provocation wasn't exactly a new thing. You were both very busy heroes and keeping your relationship on the downlow. That meant quickies more often than proper time together.

Yet, Hawks sounded immensely pleased; with himself or with you, you couldn't quite tell.

He returned to the floor, hand brushing your knuckles to push your fingers in as deep as they could go.

"Keigo, what are you-" you began, cutting off when his tongue returned to your heat, right alongside your fingers.

"Finger yourself," he told you, sounding oddly blissful despite the fact that you hadn't touched him at all. His cock was still trapped inside his pants, throbbing against the rough material.

You complied with his request, lacking in any grace or proper friction considering the awkward angle. However, Hawks groaned in approval at the view before leaning back in.

His tongue dipped in right alongside your digits. Immediately, he forced the pace and you were desperate to try and keep up, fingers squelching in and out of your core alongside the slobbery mess of his tongue.

Your fingers couldn't compare, lacking in the length, thickness and dexterity of his digits. But, it seemed that Hawks was less focused on getting you off and more focused on playing with you; or, maybe, you had severely underestimated what the taste of your essence was doing to him.

At some point, he pulled back, grabbed your wrist to remove your fingers from your core, and sucked them into his own mouth. You weren't expecting the teeth, and let out a low hiss when his fangs threatened to pierce the skin, holding you firmly in place while his tongue sucked your fingers clean.

He didn't release your hand when he was done. You heard the floorboards creak as he stood up, felt him tug your hand down, until your knuckles brushed his clothed cock.

"You want that?" Hawks breathed.

His free hand gently spread over the space between your shoulder blades, pushing you down before you could dare think to lean up. Your cheek was resting against the sheets, hair spewed about in a mess. His hand wandered, pushing hair out of the way until your neck and shoulders were properly exposed.

From where you laid on the bed, you couldn't make out the sight of him; but, you could see one of his wings, stretched out, looming predatorily.

"Yes," you replied hoarsely.

His hand glided over the prominent bump where your first vertebrae jutted from the top of your spine, and lowered, setting between your shoulder blades once more, where he held you still.

"Then, take it," Hawks uttered, his other hand releasing your wrist.

You let out a low hiss, wanting to curse him for making such a ridiculous request. You couldn't see his face; but, you sure as hell could feel the smirk he was wearing as he stared at you, watching your handle fumble with his belt.

You doubted it was mercy; but, Hawks leaned in closer, the tops of his thighs sliding over the backs of yours, making it a little easier to undo his belt buckle.

The button on his pants followed, but not with ease, before you tugged his zipper down. You couldn't tug his pants down like this, leaving you to fumble around with his boxers, trying to fish his cock out.

"Keigo, you fucking ass-" you growled, not bothering to hide your frustration.

Hawks laughed softly, sounding a little more out of it than he did amused. "'m sorry," he cooed. "-like seein' you struggle."

The slur in his voice should have given it away, his patience had depleted; however, it still surprised you when he suddenly swatted your hand away. He hooked his thumb on the hem of his boxers and pulled them down just enough for his cock to bob free.

You felt the smooth tip nudge at your entrance, the faintest warning, before he pushed forward and entered your moist heat.

"Ohhhh fuck," Hawks howled.

He gave you no time to become accustomed to the sudden intrusion, immediately pistoning his hips back and forth, driving his cock in and out of you.

One hand pinned your torso, while his thighs pinned your legs, and his other hand gripped your hip for leverage. You shifted your feet, trying to lift up on your toes to better the angle, and bumped against his boots.

He was still fully clothed; and, really, that shouldn't have mattered so much. After all, how many times had he freed his cock from his jumpsuit to take you quick and hard before tucking it back in and immediately looking as if nothing nefarious had occurred. Yet, still, the realization had you feeling dizzy.

Before you could nudge a hand between your thighs, something beat you to it. You recognized that bizarre texture. It was soft, sure, but a tad bit pricklier than a normal feather, with an unnatural, firm touch. The little heathen knew exactly how you liked to be touched there, too.

The wet, lewd noises of your union, skin slapping together, was drowned out by the litany of moans pouring from his mouth. If he wasn't crying out in ecstasy, he was huffing and puffing like he had just ran a marathon.

If you were being honest, he was being just a little too rough, a little too fast, offering you no reprieve. You didn't doubt that he would stop if you asked him to; but, you sure as hell didn't want him to. The intensity of it all had you on a plain of existence you rarely got to experience, where pleasure became blinding and mind-numbing.

His hand slid off your back and onto the bed, grabbing a fistful of the sheets as he set a brutal pace, the kind that threatened to unravel your sanity.

"Fuck! You feel so fucking good," he growled, sounding so out of breath and lost. "Gonna fill you up. Yeah, I am. Want my seed dripping out of you all fucking week."

High off the pleasure, and maybe a little influenced by his own state, you moaned approvingly at the suggestion.

"Baby," he whined, suddenly sounding like he was in pain. The feather fluttering against your pearl intensified, practically vibrating against you with how fast it was moving.

"Need you come, need you to come," Hawks pleaded, the words hissing out from his lips between desperate pants.

You didn't think you could come in that moment. Everything felt so good, from his cock rearranging your insides to his feather flicking at your clit. The pleasure was tingling down your thighs and crawling up your spine. You could barely breathe, let along process a coherent thought beyond Keigo.

The hand that had been holding your hip let go and joined the other in gripping the bed. He arched over you, forehead meeting your back.

"Come for me, come for me," Hawks sobbed.

You realized then, as he trembled behind you, that he had reached his own completion, and he didn't slow down until his orgasm waned. You could feel his seed, like molten lava as it filled your insides.

Hawks was still panting when he growled, "again."

He flipped you over, winding your legs over his waist and somehow managing to keep his cock seated inside of you during the transition. Your arms flopped uselessly above your head. You felt weak, laying there like a doll while he turned you over. Still, it felt good: his cock, his hands, his warmth.

One of his arms looped beneath your lower back and tugged you properly onto the bed. He climbed onto the sheets and followed, dragging you beneath him.

He was prepared to continue thrusting into you wildly and blindly chase another orgasm when your eyes met and he froze up. You could practically see him blink away delirious arousal, the sight of your debauched face bringing him back to his senses.

"B-baby, do you need me to stop?" Hawks offered, the words falling from his lips so weakly.

You huffed out a weak breath and reached for him. He leaned down, letting you wind your arms across his shoulders. Your fingers dipped across his clothed back until you reached his wings.

Hawks literally shouted when your fingers dipped into the exposed seams on the shirt and touched the baby feathers growing fresh from his back. The sound rattled your bones and made you jerk from the startle.

He didn't have to be told twice, obviously, for Hawks continued his thrusting immediately. The slippery, wet sounds of his claim over your body was downright disgusting, and you loved it. Your legs clung desperately to his hips, heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

One of his feathers was still pressed against your clit, now trapped between your bodies. It had stopped moving; but, every time he thrust back into you, it created delicious friction.

Your assault on his wings rendered Hawks incapable of speech. The pleasured sounds he made was almost unnatural. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was in pain between the broken, blabbering moans and choked, sharp gasping.

His arms were still wound beneath you, holding onto you for leverage and clinging to you so closely, so tightly, it was almost crushing. His wings were arched up high, flapping occasionally as if to increase the momentum behind his thrusts.

His face fell into your throat, forcing your head back into the sheets. He was burning hot, practically oozing sweat. In the corner of your eye, you could see the red tint staining his ears. You could practically feel his frustration gnawing its way through his body and into yours.

Without warning, you felt what couldn't be mistaken for anything other than Hawks' teeth piercing the skin of your neck. Sure, he had bit you before, even left faint hickies on occasion; however, this was something else entirely, and forced a scream from your throat.

You had no doubt he had pierced the skin, judging by how it burned. He was growling into the skin, holding onto you with his teeth as if you were attempting to flee. You didn't dare release his wings, fingers woven through the fine plumes, caressing the sensitive skin of his shoulder blades, where crimson feathers grew.

The bite hurt, without a doubt, but there was no denying the electrical shocks of pleasure it sent through your body. If it wasn't that, then it was the growls vibrating from his mouth onto your skin.

Suddenly, your orgasm hit, and left you screaming and gasping with a sort of ferocity you didn't think you were capable of. Something that sounded almost like his name fell from your lips at some point. Your back arched and your legs trembled where they rested around his hips.

You failed to realize he was following closely behind you. Your grip on his feathers had gone limp and you didn't notice the way his wings arched up, the tips of the longest quills nearly touching the ceiling. He kept going and going, until he was spent and your cries of ecstasy came to a halt.

Hawks let go of your throat and leaned up, removing his arms from beneath you to set his palms on the sheets. He should have felt embarrassed or ashamed or something. But, looking down at the bleeding bite wound on your shoulder, watching the way your chest heaved with heavy breaths, seeing the tint of red along your cheeks and neck, he felt blissfully proud.

Hawks scooped you into an embrace and carefully rolled onto his side, bringing you in with him and cradling you against his chest. One of his wings fell over you, the plumes stretched wide to hide you from the outside world. All you could see was him, his handsome face, the crimson feathers of his wings.

You were acutely aware that he was still inside you, still somewhat hard; but, his temperature was lowering and his breathing was steadily returning to normal. Your fingers untangled from his plumes and came around to rest limply on his chest.

He lapped his tongue softly against the bite wound until it stopped bleeding before peppering it with kisses. It stung a little and you squirmed in his grasp.

"I'm not sorry about the bite," Hawks confessed lowly, leaning back to look at your face.

"Me either," you replied, offering him a weak smile.

He looked blissfully unaware until you leaned in and sucked some of the skin of his neck into your mouth. Hawks groaned approvingly, laying still until you were satisfied and let go, leaving behind a faint, purple bruise.

You stared at his handsome face, watching the vibrant, red blush slowly leave his features as he calmed down. Blonde locks were clinging to his sweat soaked forehead and everything between the two of you reeked of sex. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to complain when he looked so damn happy.

Hawks leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against yours lips. Before he could retreat, you tilted your head and leaned in, not letting him escape. He hummed into the kiss, letting you lead until you were content and departed with a wet smack.

"Just a little bit longer," he promised, fingers gently digging into your back.

"Tell me what you're thinking," you requested, nuzzling your nose against his.

Something uncertain flickered in his gold eyes and his lids narrowed slightly.

"It's not sensical," he uttered lowly, and you felt one of his hands slide around to your front. His thumb lovingly brushed along the dip of your tummy, beneath your belly button. His gold eyes shifted down, staring at the expansion of your naval with dedication.

You both had implants. It wasn't going to happen. He knew that. Of course he did. But, he couldn't help but feel dedicated to commit to the effort, as if it would.

Your hand followed his, spreading over his fingers to press him down gently over your lower abdomen, as if this would be successful, as if there was a chance he would take. The encouragement to put him ease.

Hawks wanted to believe it was the rut talking. Some of it was, his body deliriously driven to mate, to the point that he overheated and arousal pained his core. But, his motivation wasn't purely biological. It was because it was you, whom he trusted with every fiber of his being.

But, he couldn't bring himself to tell you that. You loved being a hero, and he wasn't going to take that from you.

It felt special, being hidden with him like this, beneath his wing, whispering such depravities to one and other, that the rest of the world would never know. You felt safe, in a way that felt impossible. Here, as irrational as it sounded, you felt like Hawks could protect you from the world.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

[olderthanthemorning]

gold rush (bill weasley) part 1

pairing: bill weasley x reader

summary: “everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.” bill weasley is a golden boy, but i don’t like a gold rush. (based on the song “gold rush” by taylor swift)

wc: 3.1k

warnings: none, someone walking in on someone else but nothing dirty, swearing

a/n: hello! so i didn’t mean for this to be so long lol but anyway, there will be more. once again, a song has inspired me to write. i feel like gold rush totally describes bill and so i tried to run with that. as always, i would love comments/feedback. also if you like it please reblog/follow! i want to start taking requests!

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what a cliche it would be to be hopelessly in love with bill weasley. the charming gryffindor was the poster child of his house, his year, and his family. don't get it twisted, it wasn't that he didn't deserve all the praise; he was kind to younger students, witty in his classes, and bloody brilliant in your shared defense against the dark arts class. you just found it a little funny that everyone he met instantly fell in love with him. how could you take someone like that seriously?

"so you really don't think he's cute?" your friend, rose, asked you as you entered the great hall, the smell of fresh bread and pumpkin juice temporarily distracting you.

"no, that's actually not what i said. he's quite fit, it's just think people make too much of a big deal about it. sometimes i think you'll wet yourself when he looks at you in the corridor." you threw yourself down at your table and started reaching for the pile of sandwiches in the middle of the table. if you two wanted to make it to the beginning of the gryffindor vs ravenclaw game, this would have to be a quick lunch.

"well it's not everyday you see an arse like that in the corridor!" rose says. taken aback by her forward statement, you shove her shoulder, "gross, rose." after a few more minutes of conversation and inappropriate comments from rose, you down the last of your juice and pull your companion off the bench and toward the door.

you could hear cheers long before you were close to the game. after finding a spot with your house, you saw madam hooch release the snitch and the players shoot up to start following the quaffel. a flash of red hair passes in front of the stands as another weasley, charlie, flies at lightning speed.

The game was action packed, but not short. your cold muscles ached a bit as you moved them to walk into your dorm and sit on your bed. as if reading your mind, your roommates crowd into the bathroom to start the showers. you groan, knowing that at this rate, it'll be an hour before you can warm yourself with hot water. then a thought crosses your mind. the prefect bathrooms. your sister had been a prefect years before and had told you where they were, something you were silently thanking her for now. you gathered your towel and robe and slipped out of the room before anyone could ask where you were going.

The prefect bathroom was large and dimly lit, something that made it seem even colder when you walked in. on the far wall there was a myriad of knobs, all leading into a large bath that looked like it could hold your entire upper level herbology class. throwing down your stuff on a nearby bench, you rush to turn all the knobs you can, as blue, and green, and sparkling gold liquids splash into the basin along with steaming water. you slid out of your cold clothes and into the tub, hissing at the difference in temperature between your skin and the water. the water was heavenly and you sunk in until your shoulders were under the water, pulling your hair up from the nape of your neck so not to wet it. the room had filled with the scent of lavender and honeysuckle, and you closed your eyes to take it in.

suddenly there was a creak that you immediately recognized as the door opening. 'fuck, fuck, fuck,' you thought. you could chance jumping out and hoping the person didn't see you naked or you could wait to get caught. you decided that your clothes were too far, and started frantically ushering as many bubbles to you as possible, trying to cover your body. you turn your back to the entrance just as you see the shadow of someone begin to round the corner.

"oh, shit, i'm sorry i didn't realize someone was in here." you wanted to curl up into a human ball of embarrassment. not only did the voice belong to a boy, but you knew exactly which boy it belonged to, and it rhymed with will beasley. unsure of how to respond, you just let out a nervous laugh, not wanting to let your voice give you away as someone who was definitely not a prefect.

"okay, well... i'll just come back later." you waited until you could no longer hear footsteps to climb out of the tub. once dry and wrapped in your fluffy robe, you reentered the hallway, but only after sticking your head out to make sure bill wasn't waiting by the door. as you walked back to your dorm, you could only begin to imagine all the teasing rose would give you when she found out he had seen you in the bath. luckily, by the time you cocooned yourself in your comforter, she was already asleep. you would have to tell her in the morning, or maybe you wouldn't.

**

by breakfast the three days later, the bath incident had left your mind. after the first 24 hours, you felt sure bill hadn't suspected anything, and even if he did, there was no way he could tell who the student in the bath was. you had to pause with the spoon of porridge halfway between your bowl and your mouth, because rose's impression of flitwick had made you burst into laughter. an owl fluttered down in front of you, dropping an envelope with your mother's handwriting on the front. you ripped it open and began to read.

"Dear y/n,

Hello love, I hope you're doing well with all of your classes this term. I'm writing to tell you that we'll be spending part of the Easter holiday with one of my friends and her family. Her name is Molly and she has two sons at hogwarts. Be sure to say hello to them, Molly says they're nice boys. The three of you can leave school together to travel home for break. I miss you dearly and can't wait to hear about your term in person.

love always,

mum"

rose put her chin on my shoulder to read the letter. "i didn't know your mum was friends with the weasley's," she giggled, obviously thinking about bill. "yeah, well that makes two of us." to be honest, you never really realized your mum had close friends. there was no reason for her not to, it had just never occurred to you that your parents were people outside of being your parents.

"actually, it makes four of us," you whipped around to see bill and charlie, a letter you assumed was similar to yours grasped in bill's hand. "my mum wrote they met here as kids and ran into each other a few weeks ago in diagon alley." his easy smile was attractive and his hair fell effortlessly into place, with one soft strand too short to be pushed behind his ear. it looked almost like someone had written it in, it was so perfectly placed.

"wicked," escaped rose's lips as a strained whisper. you elbowed her, praying that she would come to her senses and start acting like a real person.

"listen, i got to run to practice, but let's meet in the main entrance tomorrow morning, yeah? 10am?" charlie butt in, reaching around his brother to grab a banana off your table and without waiting for even a nod, turned to catch up with the rest of his team at the other end of hall.

"sorry about him, he's..." bill was suddenly looking down at you with a slightly funny expression, a small grin on his face.

"preoccupied?" you finish his sentence, marking the first words you've said since he approached you.

"yeah," then, he leans down close enough that only you can hear him when he says, "next time you go for a soak, i suggest trying the orange blossom bubbles," maintaining eye contact with you the whole time.

taken aback, you feel yourself get blush and lean back, your brow furrowed, "what? how did you-"

"i didn't realize you were so interested in astronomy, y/n," he says a little louder, standing back to his tall figure and casually tapping the back of his neck.

you mimic his motion and remember the small tattoo of a moon that sat at where your neck met your shoulders. you close your eyes and cover them with one hand. maybe if you shut your eyes hard enough and clicked your heals he would disappear. or even better, you would. "i'll see you tomorrow," he sent another cheeky smile and turned to walk away, hands in his pocket, laughing quietly to himself.

"um... what the fuck," rose spoke, making you realize you were still watching his back. "what was that about? how does he know about your tattoo?"

"he might've walked in on my while i was bathing a few days ago," you said, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

"WHAT?!" it was even louder than you expected. honestly, you loved rose but bringing attention to herself, and by proxy, you, was something she had a knack for, but not in an endearing way.

"would you calm down please? everyone was taking too long in the showers so i went to the prefects' bathroom and he came in. he only saw my back so i didn't think he knew who it was, but i forgot to account for moony back there," you rolled your eyes, how could you forget about something that you had chosen to put on your body forever?

"merlin, that's so not fair, do you know what i would give to be seen naked by bill weasley?" once again, you were slightly horrified by a comment made by your best friend. this is what you didn't understand about everyone's fascination surrounding bill. even as he walked away, you had noticed a handful of other students following him with their eyes. it was a fact that bill was attractive, beautiful even, but the way people would do anything for his attention freaked you out. being treated like that had to go to someone's head eventually.

"okay, that's enough of that. i'm just glad he didn't give me detention or something," you went back to your breakfast, although you were no longer very hungry.

**

the journey to the weasley's cottage by the sea was uneventful. in the morning, you boarded the hogwarts express with charlie and bill. you didn't speak much, but read a book in your shared compartment while charlie talked to bill non-stop about the latest quidditch techniques. "and i've been reading about dragons, and how they fly, and i think it would be really cool to try some of their flying patterns on a broom. it would be really hard and i'd have to make a few adjustments, because obviously i'm not a huge majestic creature, but if it worked, it'd be brilliant!" you looked up to see charlie on the edge of his seat, trying to mark some of the flying patterns, and looking intently at bill, as if waiting for him to be just as excited. "that sounds great, charlie, really. how did you start on about dragons?" bill quickly caught your eye and tried to share some of the amusement his brother brought him. "hagrid gave me a book, they're really something, bill."

your party gets off at king's cross, and you followed the older boy through the station, until he stops in front of a women's toilet. "uh, i think the men's is over there," you said pointing behind you. charlie laughed. "hah," bill faked a monotone laugh, "there's a portkey inside that will take us to shell cottage. dad said it was a," he looked down at a paper in his hand, "toilet brush. lovely. right, we have three minutes until it leaves. ladies first." he gestured and you entered the room. it was somewhat cramped with the three of you and your trunks, but in the corner was a white, and thankfully clean looking, toilet brush. you grabbed it and held it out for the others to hold on too. after about 10 seconds of waiting, you felt your body being pulled up and then like you had just jumped off a high diving board at a pool. falling, but strangely still feeling like you were upright. before long, your feet hit solid ground again, well somewhat solid ground. the sand made your landing shaky, as it moved under your weight. you looked up and saw a cozy house with warm light glowing from the windows.

after lots of introductions and even more hugs, you finally settled yourself in to a guest room. the view was beautiful. the sun was just starting to set over the sea, the orange hues reflecting off the vast water. putting away the last of your things, you walked down the stairs and announced to your mum and molly that you would be going on a walk. they nodded and made you promise to be back for dinner before returning to their conversation. as soon as you got to the beach, you slipped off your shoes and feel the cool sand swallow each of your toes. it was crisp, but not too cold. you walk for a bit and then sit down on a dune, just taking in the picture the world had created for you.

you see a figure walking toward you and, as it gets closer, you notice it's bill. "mind if i join you?" he asked.

"of course not," you watched him as he sat. "it's beautiful here, your family has a really lovely house."

"thanks, mum has a talent for making any place feel like home." he looked out at the water, but for some reason you kept looking at his face, trying to find details. bill felt your gaze and his eyes met yours. normally, you would've looked away, but a new confidence allowed me to hold his eye contact. "so, tell me more about your tattoo." you chuckled, you should've known it would come up at some point or another.

"i got it with rose on holiday using fake muggle IDs," you explained.

"any special meaning behind it?" he asked, his eyes were now flickering from yours to your neck.

"nope, just liked the art," it was true, you knew you wanted to get a tattoo but didn't want something that held too much weight, so you got something that was simply beautiful.

"that's cool," he said, reaching to touch it with his index finger, "did it hurt?" you shivered at the contact and he pulled away, "sorry."

"no, that's okay," you said turning slightly away from him so he could see it better and indicating that he could touch it. he went back to tracing it with his finger, leaning in to get a closer look. "it didn't hurt as much as i thought it would. but now that you've seen it, it's only fair that you tell me if you have any secret tattoos."

you heard him laugh, "obviously, i've just got the gryffindor lion across my chest, nothing crazy," he joked. you smiled and turned back to him.

"seems very fitting for you."

"oh yeah?"

"charismatic prefect, brave older brother, top of our DADA class? if you were any more gryffindor-y you'd be called godrick," you poked fun at him and leaned back to lay down.

"merlin, you make me sound unbearable."

"well–" you start to trail off only to feel a foot hit your knee, just hard enough to show playful anger. "alright, alright, kidding!"

"do you know what you want to do after school?" he asked, also lowering himself to the ground, but staying propped up on one elbow, his body turned to you.

"not exactly, i really like herbology and history of magic, so maybe find a job where i can study how wizards lived in the past? like how they used plants and stuff" it was something you had thought a lot about, but hadn't really found an answer that fit well.

"you'd be great at that." you shot him a skeptical look. "what? it's not hard to notice you're brilliant in herbology. sprout has you practically teaching half the lessons." you felt a blush spread across your cheeks, and felt thankful that the sunlight was starting to dim. you hadn't even realized you two shared that class, you were always more occupied in the nearest plant.

"what about you?"

"something to do with defense against the dark arts, mcgonagall told me about a career in curse breaking that sounds good. i think it'd allow me to travel, which is a plus."

"that sounds amazing," you say, your mind whisking you away to all the places you wanted to see.

"you can come and visit me, wherever i am." bill chuckled, letting another heart-breaker grin fall into place on his lips.

"and what makes you think we'll keep in touch after we leave hogwarts?" the tone turning back to a lighter banter. you push yourself up onto your elbows

"well, for one thing, our mums. but i also just have a feeling." you're betrayed by your cheeks heating up again. you look into his eyes and find sincerity. they're a deep blue, almost like they've been taken from the nearby water. once again you're reminded of his handsomeness, but this time it's a little different. maybe it's because you've talked more and he's shown you the things he's taken time to notice in you. but his beauty feels warmer. like it was only for you, like it could engulf you. you can see he's started to move closer, and you start to mirror his actions. your eyes move from his to his lips and the light stubble that runs along his jaw, and back again to his eyes. "can i...?" you close your eyes and start to nod, anticipating the feeling of his lips on yours, until, "kids! dinner!" and just like that, the moment is ruined. the two of you open your eyes and put space between yourselves. you clear your throat and stand up, brushing sand off of your legs.

"we should get back," you say.

"uh, yeah, totally." he says, also standing and following you back to the house.

on the walk back, you make sure to stay a few steps ahead of bill to allow yourself some time to think. what had just happened? did you like bill? surely it was just a weird moment following a minor existential crisis about the future right? you should just forget about it and try to focus on spending time with you family the rest of the trip.