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imaslutforwritingshit · 2 years ago

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A Dangerous Wish

(A Miguel O’Hara x Fem (spider-girl) reader, short story. Part One)

SMUT, NSFW

WARNINGS- nsfw, slight sadism,rough sex, teasing, bondage (f and m receiving), bj, fingering, hair pulling, sub to dominant switch, submissive reader, handcuffs, wounds, minor gun play, thigh riding, ENEMIES TO LOVERS

Pro tip- slowed Weeknd songs work best with this smut story lol

Finally. He was finally mine.

On the dark, smooth floor, littered with scratches and streaks of blood, Miguel was on his knees.

I had just managed to chain him to the rectangular pole over his head. Strong, power-draining handcuffs wrapped around his thick wrists. We were in the basement of the Spider Society, the unauthorized area Miguel doesn’t let his team see. But I was here, even if the webs strapped to my hands were under shaking palms. I had finally won.

Two years of chasing the leader of the Spider Society, only our brief, unsuccessful fights being the interactions we had between each other. And for the entirety of those two years, the strong and dangerous man had been possessing my mind.

Now what? He’s all mine. I could kill him. Ruin him.

Or, maybe, I could do what I always wanted to. A deep desire my body craved when I was around Miguel O’Hara, no matter how much I hated it. I wanted those eyes on me. The red, powerful eyes now hidden under the swoops of his tussled and damp hair.

His head was dropped in defeat, the talons sticking from his fingers hanging in mid-air, and rips in his suit exposing his bronze skin under the low LED lights. I let my body fall into an intimidating walk, slinking my hips as I moved closer to him. His chest was rising and falling, the sharp, heavy pants of his breath created a strange sensation in my stomach.

Miguel’s eyes trailed over my figure as he looked up, the red of his pupils almost purple in the dark. I took of my gloves slowly, letting the moment drag in painful build up. Miguel’s eyes devoured the sight of my fingers, as if every piece of open skin was killing him. I dropped the gloves, one sliding down the plane of his thigh.

“What do you want?” Miguel’s voice was raw, broken and hoarse with anger. The lowness of his words caused a shiver up my spine, but I stiffened my body to hide it.

“Oh, O’Hara.” My words were thick with mockery, and I let my nail drag up his throat, tipping his chin up with my index finger. He grit his teeth, trying to move his head away, but the pain prevented him from completing the action. I dug my red nail under his jaw, and Miguel leaned his head back. My sly smile felt natural, though I was forcing my teeth to stop shivering from the adrenaline of catching my enemy.

“I think you already know what I want.” I dropped to my knees in front of him, and jerked the chains holding his arms up towards me. He inhaled breathlessly as I forced his body towards mine. “To destroy you.”

At those words, an unusual smirk played on Miguel’s lips. Lips so close to mine, I felt like I wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

“And how so, hermosa?” His eyes dropped to my body again, and I suddenly felt like the tightness of latex around my breasts was a bad choice. “You gonna kill me?”

I laughed at that, and dropped my hands from him. “Death would be a relief. I want to have my fun with you.”

Miguel let his head fall back lazily, and a slow grin spread on his lips. “Oh, but I really need relief right now, (y/n).”

The double meaning of his words made my face turn a hot shade of pink.

I shook my head, and stood up, making a small tsk sound with my tongue. As I paced around the room, Miguel slowly rose to his feet with pained grunts. But I’m surprised he could even stand up after the way I beat him up. I suppose the super strength Miguel had also included super-healing capabilities.

Miguel was easily one or more feet over me. He towered over my body so heavily, I felt dumb for even existing around him, even if he’s the one under my control now. God, I’ve dreamt of this day for ages- but now I have no idea what to do.

“You gonna take these cuffs off my hands, (y/n)? Or am I gonna have to ask nicely?” Miguel’s voice was too confident, too sarcastic for my satisfaction. I had captured him, not the other way around.

I whipped around, aiming for his mouth, and shot a jumble of webs from my shooters. His lips were covered in threads of silk, bonded strong enough to shut his ass up.

Miguel growled, his mouth bounded by the white web, jerking his body roughly, as if that would help the situation. With the rage fogging over his bright eyes, the rips showing his sweaty, sleek abdomen, the veins on his hands lit like fire under the light-

Fuck. He looked really, really hot.

I ignored my thoughts and stomped to him, practically cowering under his large frame.

“Let me talk for once. I want to say a million things to you, but I can’t. Because I can’t waste my time on you anymore.” I paused, then averted my eyes to his, watching the anger dissipate from his irises.

“You ruined my life. You took everything from me,” I curled my fists. “You took everything from me for some fucking mission, some personal problem. So fuck you.”

The last sentence was rough, the words hardly leaving my mouth. Miguel’s eyes dropped, staring at my blood on my floor. As if he felt anything for me.

I should probably stitch the wound. Miguel had scraped my body all over my arms and legs in a cat fight. We were both physically weary from the fight, but yearning for the sweet revenge of true dominance.

We were still hungry for more.

I turned around swiftly, walking to the small station on the other side of the room. It had everything I needed- a first aid kit, radio, a gun.

I didn’t want to do what I had to do next. Kill Miguel.

But what other choice did I have?

I suddenly heard a footstep, too close to me, too heavy to belong to anyone else except the one person I hated the most.

“Fuck you? That’s a bold statement. I didn’t know you wanted me like that, cariño.” Míguela deep chuckle caused my heart to sink to my stomach. Because there’s only one way he could talk- if he took the webs off his mouth.

And the only way he could’ve done that, was by escaping.

I swung my body instantaneously on the ceiling before Miguel lunged at me, claws skimming the thin fabric of my stomach.

I dropped down, rolling into a fighting stance. How the hell did he escape? The chains that once held Miguel down were snapped, the shiny metal dropped into little rings on the ground. Even the handcuffs were snapped into multiple pieces. I whirled my head to the gun- now is my only chance.

But though I ran to the table again, frantically sweeping my hands on the wood, the gun had disappeared.

A small click sounded from the corner of the basement, so close to me that I flinched.

“Looking for this, pretty girl?”

And ever so carefully, I turned to see Miguel’s muscular forearm pointed at my chest.

The gun in his fist.

I backed away, my feet tripping on the legs of the table. Miguel’s face was dark, relishing in my fear. He cornered me, eventually letting his thigh uncomfortably press my legs away from each other.

“Pu-put it down.” The stammer in my voice was embarrassing, but I can’t imagine Miguel with more power than he already had. He could kill me right now.

Miguel made a small humming sound, and tapped the gun on my beating heart. “Say please.”

My dignity had escaped my body within the seconds. My teeth were grinding together, as I mumbled, “Please.”

Miguel clicked his tongue, and slid the gun to my collarbone, letting the muzzle of the weapon form small circles on my skin. I shivered, dropping my head back from fear, and something else I couldn’t name. “Oh, (y/n). That’s not enough for me, baby. Louder.”

I sucked in a breath, my focus heightened on the metal, cold and powerful over my skin. “Please.” My voice was louder, but that didn’t stop the shake in my pitch.

He nodded with satisfaction, the dark glint in his eyes growing. He pressed the gun in the crook of my neck, letting it trail over my throat. “Good. Keep being good for me, cariño. Because chaining me up,” he paused, shaking his head. “That disappointed me.” He softened his voice, the low taunts dragging out of his fanged mouth. “You love acting out, don’t you?” His eyes dropped to the metal pressing into my throat. “I might just have to punish you for that.”

I shook my head frantically, clenching my fists. How could he be so strong? Escape me so fast?

Miguel raised his eyebrow, stepping closer. His leg was now pressed completely against me, filling the area between my thighs. I wasn’t during if he noticed, but the pressure caused a wave of butterflies to cluster in my stomach. “No? You don’t want that?”

I nodded again, wishing for any relief away from the gun on my body. “No.”

Miguel grinned devilishly, and pressed the gun to the side of my throat with renounced force. “Then prove it to me.”

“What?” My voice was breathless, and I shifted on his leg.

Miguel’s eyes dropped to the low of my suit, where my hips were rolled against his muscular thigh. He clenched his jaw, and looked up at me again, strands of his hair falling in his eyes.

And those eyes had an unfamiliar blaze to them-

Desire.

“I want you to beg me to stop. I don’t think you understand how much I enjoy this.” He let his tongue slide over his teeth, and then tilted his head with dark curiosity. “Beg for your life.”

Miguel stepped all the way over my body, slamming one hand on the table near my own. I could feel his rapid breath on my jawline, the potent smell of spiced cologne on his body meeting my nostrils. “I want you to understand just how much power I have over you.”

The words hit me like a wave, throwing me over. My eyes widened, and I stared, blinking at his prideful expression. I couldn’t let my sexual ideas get in the way of this. Miguel is a dangerous man, a weapon in hand.

“Fuck no,” I sputtered out. “Just kill me. I-I would rather die.” I tilted my head up, and closed my eyes, awaiting the sound of the trigger firing.

But it never came. I tentatively opened my eyes to see Miguel’s mouth slightly open, corners of his lips twitching to a smile. His fangs seemed to shine purely from my fear. He dropped the gun on the floor, and I flinched. Miguel’s hands pressed to mine before I could attack him, his warm skin and talons awakening a buzz in my core.

Electricity was flowing through the air between us, thick and heavy and dense. I couldn’t think anymore- he was a distraction, a deadly infection over my senses.

Because I wanted more.

Without thinking, I let my body act on the pure instincts I’ve been fighting. My hips ground on Miguel’s muscles, and I clenched my knuckles under his palm.

The act of my body shaking on his made him dig his talons into the wood of the desk. He looked at me with shock, only for a second. And I drowsily stared into his eyes until that shock became lust again. He tensed his biceps, and smirked so confidently it drove me insane.

“Look at you. Having…“fun,” huh?” Miguel watched my hips again, an unnatural spike in his breathing. I couldn’t help my body as I rolled my groin on his hard body again, whimpering from the impact. I could feel the swirl in my gut from him, making the area between my thighs warm. I could feel how wet he was making me.

I think he could, too.

Miguel groaned softly, and the vibrations of his vocal chords sparked a fire inside of me. I began my to harden the pressure of my body on his, and Miguel staggered, letting his head drop near my neck.

“You gonna keep doing that to my thigh, (y/n)? I think you should aim a little higher.” He shifted his body, grabbing my hips and pulling me closer to him. I stifled my gasp. This wasn’t the plan- I shouldn’t be doing this with him.

But it was like I couldn’t control myself anymore. I let soft moans escape my mouth as I began moving my hips over his own.

And an unfamiliar lump under the fabric of his suit met my spread legs. Miguel groaned, and arched his head back, poking the soft skin of my ass.

He was hard.

I had never considered that Miguel would also have the same feelings for me. He let his hard palm slide up the small of my back, and I shivered, clutching his hand. When Miguel’s fingers hooked to the zipper near the neck of my neck, he bit his lip, his dark eyes traveling over the movement of my body. “I never knew you were such a slut, (y/n).”

At that, I dropped my head on his shoulders, rasping for breath. My desire was painful. I needed release from this feeling, and he was the only one who could grant it.

Miguel chuckled, sliding the zipper down slowly, and the cold air of the basement meeting my skin formed goosebumps on my shoulders. The suit fell of my chest, exposing my breasts and stomach. Miguel took a long breath, and snaked his thick hands on my bare waist.

I clenched my teeth together, blinded from the flame of his touch. His fingers met the low of my breast, and I threw my head back, grabbing the muscles of his back. I knew he was playing with me- letting his desire for my pain and pleasure mix into a horrible game.

And a strange part of me loved it.

Miguel bared his fangs, a low growl drawling from his lips. His fingers skimmed the sensitive buds of my nipples, and he let his sharp claws swirl over the area. My thighs clenched at that, pressing my hips over his hardened dick. “Please.”

Miguel jerked my body to his, arching my back with his hand on my spine. His eyes were intense, drowning my body with tingles in each place he let his gaze fall over. “Please, what? Be specific, cariño.”

I heaved a breath. “Touch me.”

Miguel stared up at me, electricity intensifying between us. He slid his hands to my hips, rolling the fabric down my thighs. I rocked my ass up, letting him completely undress me. As I kicked the latex off my body, Miguel quickly pulled my body forward, and I yelped, now completely on my back.

With white knuckles, I reached for the sides of the desk, but Miguel grabbed my arms and pinned them over my head. I squirmed, feeling the liquids of my pussy spilling on the hard wood under me. I was so desperate, and he was toying with me. Teasing me.

“No. I’m not letting you enjoy this yet.” Miguel’s voice was gruff, almost unrecognizable as he yanked my body, an invisible warning. Miguel walked away, quickly coming back. I didn’t know what he brought, until Miguel shoved a ball of fabric in my mouth.

He fucking gagged me with my own glove.

Before I could pull the fabric out of my mouth, Miguel grabbed another article of clothing from the floor- my suit. I furrowed my eyebrows, pleading him to stop- but Miguel clenched his jaw harder, and brought my wrists up. In a couple swift movements, he tied my hands together with my suit, so hard that I could feel the throb of my heartbeat in my wrists. He dropped my limp hands, and grabbed my upper thigh. Miguel, eyes fixated on my crotch, slowly spread my lips. When he saw my wet body, Miguel growled again, biting his lip so hard I was surprised he hadn’t drawn blood.

“Qué zorra tan hermosa.” Miguel let his lip slowly drag from his teeth, and watched my shivering body was a terrifying predatory stare. When he slid two fingers over my clit, spreading my pussy, my eyes widened embarrassingly, and his teasing caused a renounced ache in my stomach. Miguel rubbed his fingers over the base of my cunt, and I arched my back, a silent beg for more. I needed more. Miguel let a finger play with the wet opening of my body, each of his breaths getting harder. I bucked my hips, and Miguel attempted to stifle a groan.

The dark of Miguel’s red irises were blending with the basement dimness. I watched his eyes flicker over my body, and slow penetration of a finger inside of me began to make its way between the folds of my body.

I gasped, choking on the fabric of my glove, and flayed hopelessly on the table. I had no idea how it came to this, why it came to this. But I craved more- I needed him, even if I hated him.

Miguel slid his finger so far it hurt, his retracted nails hitting the delicate sponge of my inner walls. I bucked my hips again, and with that movement, Miguel slid another finger in. I could feel my body clenching on his thick digits, and I curled my toes in anticipation. Miguel groaned at the sight, curling his fingers inside of me.

Each movement was driving me insane. He curled his fingers, slowly progressing to a euphoric pace. Desire was forming in my gut, the string of nerves coming undone with each pattern of his strokes.

I moaned under the fabric in my mouth, and Miguel stabbed his fingers farther inside of me- like my sound deserved punishment.

“Behave, (y/n). You don’t want me to hurt you again, do you?” He let one finger slide on the open wound above my rib cage, and I jerked my body from the white pain. Miguel smiled in a conceited way, and continued the rapid movements of his fingers. I twitched over his hand, feeling the hot rise of pleasure reach my skull. He breathed from his mouth, infatuated with my quivering body. The sight alone made my eyes roll, shivers controlling my body like tides.

“Enjoying yourself?” He laughed, but it was dry if humor. Miguel was turned on by the fact I was in pain. A pain derived of the irresistible desire he caused in me. Miguel pulled his slick fingers from my pussy, and I bit down on my glove from the release of pressure. My jaw ached from the mouthful of cotton, and my arms were sore from the position he put me in. Miguel dropped his eyes to my hips, and grabbed a fist of my hair and turned my body so I laid on my stomach. He massaged my ass greedily, and planted a sharp slap on the fat of my upper cheek. I jerked my head back from the pain, and Miguel laughed, as if this gave him energy. Vitality.

He grabbed the glove in my mouth, shaking it in my gums. “You want me to take this out? Huh?”

I nodded quickly. God, I was almost his toy at this point. Why was I doing everything he said?

Why did I like it?

Miguel chuckled again, and pulled the glove from my mouth. I salivated in my dry mouth, breathing heavily.

Miguel rubbed my chin, and held it up to his eyes. He was stripping from his suit. And making me watch.

My face flushed, even if he had already seen my exposed body- he was forcing me to watch him undress.

Miguel let the silky fabric slide drop from his frame, catching at his hips. His muscular chest rose and fell, the defined abs on his stomach sharpening from the breath. Everything he was doing was turning me on even more, and I hated myself for it.

“I’m gonna fill those pretty lips,” he muttered, so smoothly it made my mouth water for the taste of something I’ve never known. He pushed the fabric all the way down, kicking it off his ankles in a swift movement. My eyes caught his cock, and I exhaled with admiration.

He was erect, veins springing from his thick bronze shaft. The tip of his dick was moist, perfect and way too close to my mouth for me to do anything but try not to whimper. Miguel tilted his head casually, grinding his hips forward on my face. His dick slid against my soft cheek, and I scrunched my brows from the sensation.

I sealed my lips shut. Having him finger me was different- it was an act of pleasure for my benefit. But sucking his dick? It was a silent confirmation that he had complete control.

Miguel began sliding his dick over my cheek repeatedly, letting his head fall forward in concentration. I watched as his lower hips clenched with each movement, the veins meeting light again and again, mesmerizing me with the beauty of his body.

“Open.” Miguel’s voice was rawer than before, husky with the pleasure of my body meeting his edged dick.

I shook my head, biting my cracked lip down. I don’t know if I would even have free will after my mouth met his cock.

Miguel grabbed my scalp, and pulled my hair up, forcing my head all the way back. “Am I gonna have to make you?”

“I-“ My voice was hardly a whisper.

Miguel sprung his talons from his fingers, letting his index finger trail the part of my lips. He dug his finger in the slit of my teeth, and I released the tension of holding myself back. I opened my mouth, feeling the warm, rough skin of his finger pads.

Miguel didn’t hold back the low groan of his finger meeting my wet mouth. Knowing that I made him feel that way- it made me crazy. I rolled my tongue over his finger, like some dog obeying orders. It was like in this moment he was all I knew, all I remembered. Miguel grabbed his cock, letting the tip slide over my lips. And closing my eyes, I opened my mouth all the way, sliding his dick in my mouth, until the tip hit the hard gums of my inner mouth.

Fuck. I’m probably gonna regret this.

That’s it! Part two will be posted per request :)

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meidui · 2 years ago

Note

Tony modelling for an ad campaign for Avenger themed makeup (there were enough knock offs in the market that the media team felt the need to establish their safer and more inclusive brand in the space after some of the products illicitly using their name were found to have harmful chemicals in it.) and Tony volunteered to model because Nat refused on principle and he was the next logical/only willing choice

In any case, Tony looks GOOD wearing it, in the lipstick especially, and he wears a face full of the products home after a shoot. His lips are Iron Man red and his eyeliner is Black Widow-ed catseye, his eyeshadow is Hawkeye purple, his highlighter Thor Thunder shimmer, and his scent is Star Spangled Slay (he helped pick the names that he KNEW would annoy some of the teammates that refused to contribute lol. Also Hulk also has an eyeshadow palette but Tony doesn’t look good in the green tbh no offence Bruce), all in all he looks GOOD.

And the team cat calls and is properly appreciative of his glamorous look, except for Steve who is all quiet and looking down and seems all squirmy. Tony starts challenging him (is he uncomfortable because of outdated social norms? Does he think Tony doesn’t look good? Either way Tony’s getting to the bottom of it)(and no they are not together yet) and Steve finally looks up and stutters that no no Tony looks good! Great even!!! No really it’s a good look, Steve especially liked the lipstick, what a nice color!!!!

And Tony’s skeptical and like hmm, then you won’t mind wearing it? And Steve no!! Definitely not!!! And Tony’s like, bet, and swoops in and kisses him in the cheek, leaving a 💋 mark on him. And Steve’s all stunned and Tony’s all satisfied like, hah got ‘em, and Steve looks at himself in a nearby reflective surface and then is like ummm looks nice but maybe I need more of this nice color on me to really see… and Tony doesn’t lose in a game of chicken so he kisses his other cheek, his jaw, and the tip of his nose. And Steve’s like better thanks 😳🥰

And so every time Tony wants to put on some lipstick from the line when they go out (for marketing you see and cuz sometimes a guy wants to feel pretty), Steve’s like, hmmm can I sample that new color?? And gets a 💋or two (this is also clearly marketing cuz when Steve goes out with whatever color kissed all over his face that color sells out). Until Steve’s got his favorites and is all, idk if I want to wear Widow Black today, and the Hawkeye Cupid’s Bow is to purple undertoned for my outfit so ssiiihhhhhgggg I guess it’s Iron Man Red or Red-Blooded-Apple-Pie (seriously Tony?) for me today if that works? No not Mjolnir Mauve either Thor, no it’s a great color Thor I just don’t think it works with this shirt… yes it’s because of color theory shut up Clint

AAWW STEVE GETTING KISSES ALL OVER HIS FACE TO SAMPLE TONY'S LIPSTICK COLOUR IS SO SWEET

steve has favourites but does not put on lipstick unless the colour is transferring directly from tony's mouth to his mouth

extends to the bedroom where tony leaves lipstick marks all over steve's body and afterwards if it washes off it's makeup and if it doesn't it's a hickey

this launches another ad campaign where it's just close up photos of the lipstick kissed onto steve's face and the tag line is like "this is what it would look like if you kissed cap in shade ___" . bam, profit

btw if you want to read some stevetony and lipstick fics i do have recs🥰

#anon #asked #stevetony #stony #st♡ny

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outstandingblue · 2 years ago

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Promises to Keep

Eleven - We Can't

recom!miles quaritch x fem!na'vi oc

Way to be your own cock block.

cross-posted on ao3 here content warning: allusions to sex, sexual thoughts, allusions to sa (not detailed by any means) word count: 6.7k (remember when i wrote chapters that were barely pushing 2.5k lol)

Miles was too engrossed in his own physical sensations to hear Jiniraa’s whispers as he moved them out of the hallway, into the security of his little apartment. He wanted this - he wanted her. To feel her body against his, to hear the sounds she’d make, to taste everything her body had to offer. All that and more.

He felt her body shiver in excitement, muscles tightening and blood rushing to his crotch as his brain created mental images of how he expected to spend the next few hours.

The automatic door closed, plunging the pair into complete darkness. Miles didn’t dare try and turn on a light. To do so, he’d have to sacrifice his grip on her. Even if it was just for a moment it wouldn’t be worth it. He wouldn’t dare let her go. Not now and maybe not ever.

His pants tightened as her body slid slightly down his torso, brushing against the tent forming in his pants. He could feel her heat through her shorts. He could feel his body pulsating with excitement, ready for what was about to happen.

He opened his eyes, not even realizing they had closed at some point, only to be met with those green eyes. They were no longer teary, rather they were half closed in desire and half a shade darker than their usual hue. A lusty expression etched on her face.

She shifted in his grasp, wanting to be put down. He reluctantly complied, but caged her in with his arms. Because of their height difference, he has to crane his head down to continue watching her. His hungry eyes began tracing the bioluminescent dots. Those damned dots. He gently brushed hair off her sounder, exposing more skin to his gaze. She shivered under his touch as he traced the markings on her collarbone.

“Miles…”

Oh God - the sound of her voice almost had him falling to his knees. He could feel her hands pawing at the material of his tank top. It was a pitiful attempt - the material was tightly tucked into his belt. She gave up and directed her touch to his bare arms, caressing up and down. Feeling the muscles tighten as she ventured along. Her touches were bold - she wasn’t giving feathery touches like Miles. No, she was pressing and gripping, desperately trying to feel more of him.

She felt cold as his hand left her collarbone, eyes closing to protest the loss of sensation. Not even a moment later, his hand found a new home along her jaw. It looked and felt gigantic against her smaller face. She didn’t seem to mind as she lent into the warmth, reveling in the touch.

Her ears turned down. It wasn’t in hostility or rage - like Miles had seen before - this was in complete satisfaction, ease, and submission. A smirk pulled at the corner of Miles’ mouth, one sharp canine poking out. She’d become so complacent in his grip so quickly. Without even a second of rebellion.

Miles noted the faint purple that dashed the tips of her downturned ears. That hadn’t been there before. Blood was rushing around her body as she grew more and more excited. She was blushing.

Although she was enjoying stroking his arms, Jiniraa slid one hand to grasp the wrist holding her face. It wasn’t a tight grip, but it also wasn’t a loose one. If he wasn’t staring at her face with such intensity he probably would’ve noticed it sooner. She was making sure he wasn’t pulling away, keeping his hand still - afraid this moment would come to a screeching halt.

“Miles…” she whispered for the third time. Miles hadn’t dared to utter a sound since his apology in the hallway. Her eyes opened once more, reconnecting them in the darkness. A millennium of evolution made it possible for Jiniraa to see Miles in the dark. It wasn’t as clear as day, but he looked better than ever. Her eyes traced his cheekbones, defined by the shadows of the dark. His nose was twitching at her scent. His ears were flickering at every little sound her body produced. She tilted her head, taking in his features as she noticed cropped ears. She never noticed them before. Much smaller and pointer than the average male Na’vi, but it fit his personality and his physique.

She returned to his hungry eyes, lidded over and mirroring her own expression. She watched a damp tongue slip out, wetting his lips.

“Jiniraa,” his voice was rough, deepened by his desire. At some point, his other hand found a place on her waist. He allowed his fingers to slip under her top, nails skimming her skin just enough to make their presence known. Her breath shuddered as he grazed the underside of her breast with one finger. His own breath caught in his throat at her breathy gasp.

Her gaze dipped down, now pointed straight ahead at his chest. Not going to happen. His grip on her jaw tightened slightly, making her look back up at him. Her ears were even darker now, she was embarrassed by the way it made her feel.

Miles held her gaze, breath heavy, as he began to lean his head down. He was being soft, tentative with his movements afraid if he was too fast or too rough she’d dart away and never come back.

In reality? Miles wanted nothing more than to pick her up and push her against the wall before ravaging her for all she was worth. He wouldn’t stop until she was shaking in overstimulation, covered in a layer of sweat and cum. His cum. Marking her and making her feel good. He was restraining himself right now. Barely. If he felt her graze against his solid member even the slightest he wouldn’t be able to stop till his carnal desires were fulfilled.

He paused right before their lips touched. They traded heat back and forth. Bodies pulled together. Breaths intertwine.

Thoughts were raging in her head, so many voices fighting that not a single one could be understood.

She wanted to give in, give into the pull that was so clearly between them. Stop this dancing game. But then again - if his lips touched hers, there would be no going back - it’s a line you can never uncross. If his mouth touched hers, she was going to give in without a second thought. She would be his in mind, body, and soul.

His breath was shuttering at their proximity, muscles spazzing.

She couldn’t give in, no matter how much her body wanted to give herself to him.

Miles ended his momentary pause, beginning to move once more. He felt a force against his chest. It wasn’t like that pitiful pawing from earlier. It was firm and planted, unmoving. She could feel the outline of his dog tags pressing against her palm.

Miles momentarily tightened his grip on her as she tried to push him away. He pulled his head back, giving her space, wide eyes searching her face for an explanation.

“Miles…” that sweet, sweet voice. His eyes flickered back down - maybe she just needed a moment to catch her breath before they proceeded.

“Miles.” Her voice was firm this time, making Miles stop in his tracks. Utterly frozen six inches from her face, he opened his eyes once more. When he saw her face, he wanted nothing more than to erase the image that stared back. Teary eyes, big green teary eyes.

A single tear escaped, but the floodgates didn’t open. Miles took a step back, moving his hand from her waist to her face, enclosing her head between two huge palms. He couldn’t tell what was wrong. Did he accidentally hurt her when he picked her up? Was it from the fall earlier? Something else?

A sad smile creeped on her face as she tilted her head to the side, nuzzling her cheek into Miles’ palm. He was confused - she was crying, but also smiling?

“Sweetheart?” He asked tentatively, the lusty bedroom voice from earlier was gone. The moment he saw those tears, the thought of their bodies intertwined was the last thing on his mind. She didn’t respond, so he was forced to hopelessly watch her lip begin to quiver. That sad, sad smile remained on her face.

“Jiniraa?” He tried again. Her eyes closed, another tear slipped out. He hastily wiped it away, despising the trail it left behind on her skin. Staining her perfect skin.

“I…we can’t,” she whispered. One hand began to travel along his arm once more. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to comfort herself or him. Her eyes followed the movement of her hand as it rose and fell with the taut muscles, an excuse to not look into his unrelenting gaze.

Miles waited silently for more explanation, but it didn’t seem he was going to get one. He guided her head once more to connect their eyes together. Her head rolled along, not resisting the movement at all. That was a good sign.

“We can’t what, sweetheart?”

She went silent. He watched the tips of her ears turn purple once more as her body flushed, “we can't do what we both wanted to do just now.”

The words slipped out of her mouth at record speed. If he wasn’t hanging onto her every word, he would have missed the jumble of words. An overly wordy explanation as she danced around the term - sex, fuck, sleep together, hook up - however you’d like to describe it. Sex wasn’t a taboo in Na’vi culture. It was part of nature and not something to be ashamed of. Jiniraa had never been embarrassed discussing sex with anyone before, but once she found herself faced with Miles it did something to her.

A frown formed on Miles’ face - not because they weren’t going to proceed, but because of what he saw. He hadn’t noticed it till just now. Her one hand was traversing across his arm and the other was shaking between their torsos. It clearly was ready to shoot up and push against his chest if he didn’t listen to her. To fight back he tried to force her. His chest involuntarily tightened - she’d actually had that thought. It didn’t matter if it was subconscious or not.

He dropped his hand from her face, letting it softly grasp the hand hovering near her waist. His hand was huge, wrapping around her smaller hand. The gauze around his knuckles scratched at her palm. She let out a breath, not knowing how he would take her refusal.

“That’s okay, sweetheart.”

There wasn’t any hesitation in his voice. She looked into his eyes, trying to see if there was any deceit or contempt behind them. There wasn’t. She trusted her ability to read people, trusting he was genuine in his word. It actually was okay.

“It’s just…” she trailed off, trying to find the words. He didn’t say anything, giving her the time and space to articulate what she was feeling. “It’s just…we aren’t a mated pair.”

He nodded, recalling a conversation they had weeks ago during one of their language lessons. He knew a little bit about mates in Na’vi culture - it was a bond one could not break, sacred and till death. Once a pair was mated, there was no getting out of it. No haphazard one-night stands or fuck buddies like he’d been used to as a human.

Jiniraa wanted to say more, but she felt if she tried to give him a further explanation, she’d only find herself digging a hole with her words.

Miles brushed away a third and final tear. He watched for a second before leaning down, she held her breath thinking he would press their mouths together. He didn’t. He gently pressed their foreheads together as his eyes closed. She felt his muscles relax under her hand at their physical touch. It was clear how much he enjoyed skin to skin contact.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” his charm was back. She watched a sharp canine poke out as he smirked through his words. It wasn’t malicious at all, rather reassuring. Almost a smile. She nodded against his forehead, letting her eyes close as well. Neither dared to move, afraid to ruin the intimate moment.

She stayed still for a minute or two, feeling his breath caress her face. Miles froze when Jiniraa’s hand moved to rest against his cheek, mirroring the grip he had on her. She held his jaw still as she began to move her head, gently moving towards his shoulder. Her head found its final resting place tucked into the crook of his neck.

Jiniraa contemplated her next action for a long moment. She really wanted to do it, but it probably wouldn’t be the best course of action. Against her better judgment, she went forward with it anyway. She leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss at the base of his jugular. Miles felt all his strength leave at the contact - he had to lock his knees to keep himself from falling over. He swallowed, fighting to repress the thoughts that arose at her innocent (or not so innocent) brush.

“Thank you, Miles.” She whispered against his skin, leaning back against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” Miles replied, matching her whisper. He didn’t feel the sentiment was clear, so he repeated himself once more, “anything.”

Neither knew how long they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms. At some point, Miles began to sway their bodies back and forth. Just the slightest movement. No need for grandeur, content with feeling the skin of their counterpart and hearing their soft breathing.

Jiniraa’s ears twitched as Miles’ chest began to reverberate with a hum. It was a song he’d heard on Earth; the tune was etched into his memories, but the words were lost in time. Well - it was from the human Quaritch’s memories, not his own. He had to keep reminding himself of the fact.

Jiniraa basked in the soft embrace, feeling more content than ever. His arms had slipped around her waist at some point, resting against the small of her back. Her head had migrated from his neck to his hard chest. In return, his head rested on top of her hair. He felt her yawn before pressing closer to his warmth. He pulled back slightly, only making enough room that he could see her face.

“Tired?” She nodded silently, continuing to lean against him. Miles sighed, taking a step back and unwrapping her from his grip. He smiled as she whined from the loss of contact.

“Can I stay here…just for tonight?” She asked, brushing hair out of her face. How could he deny a voice like that?

He thought about reaching down and taking her into his arms again, but ultimately decided against it. Maybe it wouldn’t be the best idea after what happened earlier today. He nudged her with his hand, directing her towards his bed. She staggered over, exhausting catching up with her as her limbs felt a thousand times heavier than usual.

She didn’t notice that Miles disappeared from behind her until he clicked on a small lamp, illuminating the room enough to see everything clearly. Both sets of dots dimmed slightly. She wasn’t shocked at the state of his little homestead. It didn’t even look like anyone lived here. Everything was meticulously placed and organized. The only evidence that someone occupied the space was the gear sitting on the desk, haphazardly thrown there. He dropped it on the desk when they returned yesterday, unable to pack away before going on his miniature rampage.

She awkwardly paused in front of his bed, turning to face him when she didn’t know what to do next. She was anxiously fiddling with her fingers, shivering as the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

“Yeah - thermostat is broken or somethin’. Just gets colder and colder,” he was already waiting with a dark sweatshirt, hands extending as he pushed it to her. “You’re gonna want this.”

She nodded, thanking him with a smile. He expected her to slip it over her pre-existing outfit, but the tank she’d been wearing was incredibly uncomfortable and she wanted nothing more than to take it off. Miles’ watched as her hands reached for the bottom hem, not hesitating the slightest.

He hastily spun towards the door to provide some privacy. He was a gentleman, he wouldn’t dare look at a lady while she changed. Even though he wanted to take a quick peek. He scratched the back of his neck, rocking on his heels as his tail swayed at the same cadence. It was the first time he’d seen him nervous. She giggled softly, failing to suppress the urge to laugh at him.

“Hey - whatcha laughin’ at?” Miles grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as his rocking stopped.

“Nothing,” she answered. He only hummed in response, obviously not believing her.

She didn’t know it, but this was the very sweatshirt he slept in every night to protect against the cold. He couldn’t sleep when he was cold. The sweatshirt was soft against her skin, engulfing her body. It smelled like Miles. It was long enough that it just barely showed the bottom of the shorts she was wearing. She wanted to take those off as well, but decided against it. They weren't too uncomfortable.

Miles turned, feeling a light tap against his back. She stood in front of him, holding the flimsy material of her black tank in her hands.

“Uh - looks good on ya,” Miles managed to squeeze out. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he offered her that article of clothing. He turned away, haphazardly going through his drawers to grab a part of sweats for himself. He didn’t make eye contact as he dashed towards the bathroom, trying to hide the bulge growing in his pants.

Jiniraa took a seat at the desk, not wanting to climb into the bed before he returned. It didn’t feel right to invade his space like that. She turned towards the contents of the desk, finding herself drawn to a small metal tin pushed against the wall and the corner. A dark leather watch and silver ring rested on the case. She didn’t dare reach out to the trinkets, but she was too engrossed in her observations to realize that Miles returned.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” His voice made her jump in the seat, not expecting he was back. She didn’t respond as he walked closed and loomed over her shoulder. Jiniraa could feel the heat of his chest as he stood behind her. He followed her gaze, landing on the human-sized objects. He reached over and grabbed both items, dwarfing them in his Na’vi hands.

She turned her head to look at him, finally noticing he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He had decided against it. The room may be cold, but he knew he would feel like he was on fire if Jiniraa in his bed cuddled against him all night. She gulped as her eyes trailed over the muscles that covered his chest and abdomen; she’d seen the way his tight tank tops hugged his broad chest and narrow waist, but that was nothing compared to seeing him like this: all laid out and bare.

“What are those?”

“Ah - so this is a watch.” Miles replied back, dead serious.

“I know what a watch is, Miles,” she snapped back. He laughed, a deep laugh rooted in his stomach. He was cracking up at his own joke. It might’ve been stupid, but she felt a familiar heat blooming in her chest at the sound.

“Sorry, sorry, it was too easy to pass up on,” his laughing subsided and he turned more serious. “My Momma gave me this watch the day I graduated from boot.”

“Boot camp?” Jiniraa quizzed back, making sure they were on the same page. She’d heard some of Jake’s stories about boot camp.

“Yeah - she was so proud of me when I became a Marine, even though she was scared. She never wanted me to join the Corps.”

His voice trailed off. He could remember little snips about his mother. He could remember her cooking for Sunday dinner and the smell of her floral perfume, but not everything. He couldn’t remember the sound of her voice. He knew she liked to sing, but he couldn’t remember what she sounded like. That hurt the most. Then again, she technically wasn’t his mother. She was the mother of the other Quaritch. He didn’t have a mother - he was grown artificially in a lab by scientists playing God.

He knew Jiniraa would say that Eywa was his mother now if he shared those thoughts. Maybe one day.

“The ring?” Jiniraa’s voice was soft.

Miles laughed, flipping it over in his palm, “it was the engagement ring my father proposed with. A family heirloom or something. She gave it to me before I left for Pandora, saying if I found a worthwhile woman I should use it.” Jiniraa nodded as he continued. “He never ended up using it.”

“He?”

“The other Quaritch.”

Jiniraa nodded, not wanting to pry any further. His tone made it seem like she’d struck a nerve. A yawn racked her body, pulling Miles from his memories. She turned around in the chair, leaning against its back as she almost fell asleep right then and there.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” Miles carefully placed the items back on the metal tin, pushing them into their former positions. It looked like a museum display. The only remaining artifacts of Colonel Miles Quaritch, Head of Security on Pandora. He found out his mother died while he was in transport from Earth to Pandora. The first thing Quaritch learned after waking up from his slumber. He never got to say goodbye. Then again, he wasn’t that man and these weren’t things from his Momma.

“Have you eaten today?” Jiniraa asked through another yawn, rubbing at her eyes. “You weren’t at breakfast or lunch. There’s still a chance for you to get dinner.”

“Yeah, I ate, don’t worry ‘bout me,” he lied through his teeth. As if on cue, his stomach growled. Her eyes narrowed at him. He was hungry, but it wasn’t his top priority.

“No, no. You need to eat,” she reached for his wrist, checking the time, “dinner is still being served. We have time.”

Miles groaned like a teenager being scolded for not doing his homework. He didn’t want to leave the little bubble they’d created - their own little safe haven. What would happen on the other side of that door? They were going to be careful with all the watchful eyes that walked the halls of Bridgehead.

Based on the look in her eyes, he knew she wasn’t going to budge. They were going to go to dinner, regardless of how tired she was.

“Fine,” he agreed, “but we go there, we eat, we come right back. You’re going to bed right after we get back. You need to sleep. Got it?”

She smiled, knowing she’d won. The exhaustion seemed to leave her body as she danced across the room, waiting by his door. He grumbled once more before quickly changing back into his fatigues and tank. He wasn’t able to see her pout as he laced up his boots.

“You leavin’ that on?” He grabbed the sweatshirt between two rough fingers before tracing the small Deja Blue logo.

“Well, I’m not putting that tank top back on, so unless you want me to go topless-” she began, waving a hand in the air, drawing out her syllables longer than necessary.

“Nope. Let’s go.” Her voice was cut short at Miles’ gruff veto.

“That’s what I thought.” She countered.

Wherever Jiniraa went, there were eyes that followed. This was old news. The humans at Bridgehead always stared at all of the Recoms - Spider and Jiniraa were even more intriguing to watch. For once, Jiniraa didn’t cower into herself as gazes followed her every move. Her head was held high, shoulders pulled back while she walked with confidence. Bare feet softly padded against the cool metal ground. Maybe it was something about the sweatshirt or maybe it was something about having Miles walk beside her, the loud thud of his boots starkly contrasting her light steps. Maybe it was a mix of both - probably a mix of both.

Miles had been on high alert from the second they left the security of his room, but the moment they entered the mess hall, his attentiveness increased ten-fold. He scanned the room, taking note of the humans that buzzed around like flies. Miles' eyes flicked towards the assigned Recom table, the largest one in the room, built specifically to accommodate the larger bodies. He almost let out a sigh of relief seeing it was empty. Thank God, he thought, without those dipshits we’ll get done eating faster.

Almost like he was summoned, the boisterous whooping of a certain Lyle Wainfleet echoed from the otherside of the door. Fuck.

Miles shepherded Jiniraa into the chow line, trying to keep their presence a secret as long as possible. It was a pointless attempt - being a nine and a half foot tall blue alien was going to make it pretty hard to blend into a crowd of humans.

“Colonel!”

Miles groaned, head falling back in exasperation. There was no escaping it now. It’s not like they ever had a chance to escape Lyle. He always managed to find the Colonel, no matter how hard he tried to hide.

“Lyle,” Miles curtly acknowledged with a tight smile. His feet remained planted firmly on the ground, only twisting his torso to look back. As long as he didn’t move, Jiniraa would be kept out of their sight. Once again, a stupid attempt as she leaned to the side and waved towards the others.

“And Jiniraa too!” Lyle gasped in fake surprise, “you two are here together. Well - isn’t that an interesting outfit.”

“Wainfleet - I will neuter you.” Miles threatened with a growl and flattened ears. Lyle seemed to get the message as he gulped and backed down.

Ja made his way around from the back of the group, maneuvering towards Jiniraa. Miles held an arm out, which Ja easily side-stepped. Trying to control the Recoms was sometimes like herding cats.

“How you feeling?” Ja asked, leaning in to try and look at her pupils. Miles grabbed his arm, pulling him back, saying something about being smothering.

“My back hurts a bit, but I am okay,” Jiniraa responded. Miles' eyes softened from his piercing glare at the mention of her pain. “Thank you for asking, Ja.”

“Maybe you should go and visit the actual doc,” Ja suggested. Ah yes - the lovely Dr. Renia Cox. No one seemed to notice the way Mansk’s tail stiled at the mention of his favorite doctor.

“No, no. Really. I am okay, see?” Jiniraa began to lift the bottom of her sweatshirt - Miles’ sweatshirt - to show off her back without hesitation. He almost didn’t intervene. That is, until he remembered she was bare underneath.

“Hey - line is moving,” Miles called out. It was enough to distract Jiniraa from her prior plan.

●●●

Miles was anxious to get out of the mess hall as quickly as possible. Maybe anxious wasn’t the right word - impatient. He was impatient to leave. His knee bounced, trying to dispel the excessive energy he suddenly had.

Jiniraa was fully engrossed in conversation with the rest of the team. It seemed their plan to eat and go would not be happening.

She’d become an entirely different woman over the past few weeks. Everyone noticed how she stopped averting her eyes three seconds into conversation. Or the way she wasn’t afraid to laugh at the Recome when they made fools of themselves. Hell, she’d even laughed at Miles earlier and grabbed his wrist without the slightest hesitation. She was growing, becoming an actual person with a fulfilled life rather than the shell of a woman she was when Miles found her in the forest.

But this? Sitting around the table and sharing a meal with everyone? It was all a facade. It wasn’t real. None of it was real. Only a temporary arrangement. One day, Miles and the others would complete their mission and kill Jake Sully. Then what? What will happen to Jiniraa? To Spider? Miles’ stomach twisted at the thought. This mission was the sole purpose of his new life, yet he dreaded the day it was achieved.

“Let’s wrap this up. Sweetheart, you should be resting after that fall you took.” Miles began to organize the dishes on his tray, already standing up and walking away.

Zdinarsk and Lyle shared a look, a smirk passed between the pair.

“Yeah, make sure you go and rest, sweet cheeks,” Lyle emphasized. Jiniraa didn’t seem to get the joke as she gathered her things, bidding everyone goodnight with a yawn.

“It’s barely eighteen-hundred, why the hell are you yawning?” Zdinarsk laughed, double-checking her watch to make sure she didn’t miss something.

“Maybe she’s tired from other things, Z,” Lyle nudged her with a smirk. Two large hands rested on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle.

“Wanna repeat that, Lyle?” The Colonel leaned down, hostility dripping from his tongue. He turned to Zdinarsk and raised a brow, daring her to say something. Lyle shook his head, almost a little too quickly. “I said it earlier - I will not hesitate to neuter you, Wainfleet.”

With a final clap of his hands against the Corporal’s shoulders, Miles turned and saw Jiniraa waiting for him.

“What was that all about?” She asked as they left the mess hall.

“Oh nothing,” he tried to keep his face neutral, but the smallest smirk twinged for a moment before disappearing, “no need to worry about it.”

●●●

The atmosphere in Miles’ apartment shifted by the time of their return. It felt cooler - not just regarding the physical temperature, which had seemed to drop as well - it wasn’t thick with lust and passion. They were experiencing a different type of intimacy as they moved around the room in comfortable silence.

Miles quickly changed his outfit once more, hopefully for the last time today. Jiniraa waited at the desk, finding her attention drawn back to the leather watch and silver ring. There was something intriguing about the trinkets. They must’ve been deeply significant to the Colonel if they managed to survive all these years. It was impossible to ignore the twinge of pain in Miles’ voice as they discussed the objects, regardless of how he tried to cover it up.

Jiniraa’s eyes slid towards the bed. It was the same size as everyone else, designed for one body. It’ll be a tight squeeze for two. She yawned, unable to stop her body from its expression of exhaustion. It wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and fall asleep. Her head told her to wait - at least until Miles had returned. It was his room after all.

As if summoned, Miles returned from the bathroom - sans shirt once again. Jiniraa’s eyes traced over his shoulders, chest, and down his stomach. Miles watched her devour his form, smirking at the reaction to his impressive physique.

“Like what you see?” His voice exuded cockiness. The annoying thing was how he had the grounds to back up the statement. She did like what he saw. The tips of her ears flushed that dark purple color. Miles wanted to see how many different ways he could elicit that reaction. If just seeing him shirtless made her body react like that, what would happen if things had gone further earlier today? How dark would the tips of her ears get?

“I thought you said it was cold in here?” She challenged his lack of clothing. He just shrugged without responding.

He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the bed before sitting himself on the edge. She made a move to sit beside him, but he had other plans. Quick hands landed on her hips and pulled her body between his knees. Since he was sitting, they were almost at eye level. He was just slightly taller than her.

“This okay?” Miles asked, realizing he’d manhandled her a bit. The old Quaritch would spit on Miles if he heard the way he spoke to Jiniraa. The old Quaritch would never do this for a woman - he took what he wanted and that was the end of it. None of this mushy softheartedness. Good thing Miles wasn’t that man.

Jiniraa nodded, leaning into him the tiniest bit. Those blushing ears persisted.

Miles nodded absentmindedly. His eyes were distant, unfocused as his gaze was stuck on the floor. Mentally, he was far away from the room. Jiniraa searched his face before cupping the side of his face. Today had proven how touch-starved Miles was, desperate for the softest touches. He would never admit it outloud. His grip on her hips tightened, pulling her closer. A thumb rubbed circled on her hip bone through her shorts.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Miles?” She echoed the question he asked just hours prior. He shook his head, a combination of not wanting to say and not knowing what to say.

She tentatively moved her hand from his face towards his hair, raking her nails through the short cropped style, testing the waters. She made her way towards the base of his queue before beginning the motion over once again. Hit bit back a groan at the sensation, relishing in the petting like motion. After countless cycles, Jiniraa slowed down her movements, momentarily thinking he fell asleep.

“Please don’t stop.” Miles’ head dipped down, resting his forehead against her shoulder as he went limp against her. She listened to his plea, giving him exactly what he wanted.

His lungs expanded, taking a deep whiff of the material on her body. His scent was the strongest, as expected, but it was beginning to mix with Jiniraa’s. An intoxicating fusion.

“I was scared,” Miles admitted. Jiniraa didn’t slow her movements, so he assumed she didn’t hear him. He didn’t dare repeat the confession. He’d be glad to pretend it never happened.

“Why?” She whispered, fingers still brushing through his hair. Shit. She had heard him. There was no going back now.

“I don’t know,” he lied. Deep down, he knew why. “I guess I didn’t like seeing you like that. Scared and hurt.”

She hummed, giving him the opportunity to find the words. His hands slipped under the fabric of the sweatshirt, rubbing against the skin of her torso. He felt his tail come around, trying to wrap about her thigh. His hand brushed against the small of her back. She winced under his touch and her hands froze against his head. His hand halted in its place.

“Sorry,” she squeaked out before resuming her previous motions.

“What was that?” Miles demanded, pulling from her touch as he removed his head from her chest.

“I told Ja my back hurts,” she rolled her eyes, making it sound like it was yesterday’s news. She took a step back before lifting back of the sweatshirt, exposing a blossoming bruise beginning to spread across her lower back.

“Oh God, sweetheart,” Miles gasped. He felt sick to his stomach. She clicked her tongue, dismissing his concerns.

“It’s probably not that bad,” she murmured, lowering the material back down. He wanted to argue and insist it was in fact that bad - she was trying to downplay it. She sighed, “can we just go to bed, please?”

Thus, the debate of her physical wellbeing was tabled for tomorrow. First thing tomorrow, Miles decided.

He pulled back the covers for her, roughly tugging at the tight hospital folds. Some habits never die, including the bunk standards he learned all those decades ago in boot camp. The old Quaritch learned. Dead Quaritch.

She hesitated for a moment before climbing in. She turned, watching from her position as Miles grabbed a spare blanket from the closet before laying it on the floor.

“What are you doing?” She laughed, completely confused.

“Getting ready to sleep,” he replied as if it was obvious. “Bed it too small for two.”

“I slept on the floor of a cell for a week. I know it is not comfortable. This is your bed, so sleep in it.” She tried to make her voice threatening, but she failed in the end, “I’ll go back to my room if it means you actually sleep in your own bed.”

He grumbled. He did that a lot, but she was right. He certainly didn’t want to sleep on the floor, but he also didn’t want to force her to share a bed with him. Not after their almost incident earlier.

“You sure?” He asked, eyes hopeful that she would say yes. She nodded, motioning for him to join. “I wouldn’t be able to get the crick outta my neck for weeks.”

He settled into the bed, but one arm was hanging off the side of the bed. He tried to remain as still as possible, lying flat on his back as he stared upwards. He distracted his mind with the grooves and bolts that held the ceiling together, trying to ignore Jiniraa’s movements as she got comfortable.

“Miles?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you even on the bed?”

“...Barely.”

She groaned and she pushed herself on her knees, pulling a heavy arm towards her to get him away from the edge. He just let her try to move his body, not helping nor resisting. Dead weight. She pinched his skin as she grew annoyed at his passiveness.

He reluctantly asked, “how do you want me?”

“How do you sleep?” She asked back.

“Well I close my eyes and-” a sharp smack to his chest cut off the sarcastic response. He winched - it actually did sting a little, “on my side.”

She moved, flopping herself on her side, wedged between the cool wall and the furnace that was Miles Quaritch. He remained still as she grabbed his arm, placing it across her waist. He’d let her do everything, not wanting to overstep her boundaries.

“Are you a corpse?”

“What?” He laughed back.

“You could at least pretend to want me in your bed,” she muttered back under her breath. Oh, only if she knew how much he wanted her in his bed. The things he would do to get those pretty little ears to flush that color. He’d become infatuated with the color. He shook those thoughts from his head - he needed to settle down if he was going to get any sleep.

He mumbled an apology, tentatively tightening his arm around her waist. Once she didn’t reject those advances, he pushed further. It was like the floodgates were opened. She drew a quick breath as she was pulled backwards, flush against his chest. One arm slipped under her head; it’s not like his singular pillow would be large enough for both of them. His biceps made pretty decent pillows.

Jiniraa melted into Miles’ touch before she flipped around in his hold, facing him rather than the wall. She felt his hand slip under the sweatshirt, spreading across her shoulder blades. Dull nails scratched up and down, lulling her to sleep.

“Good night, Miles,” she whispered.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he responded, matching her volume. Tentatively, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her hairline, holding there for a second.

He was content, holding her against him. He didn’t need to worry if she was safe for the night. He would be right there if she started writing and whimpering in her sleep. She was beyond satisfied, craving this type of touch for years. She could sleep soundly through the night, wrapped in his protective grip.

Neither had experienced a better sleep than they did that night, encased in their own little bubble. At that moment, it was just Miles and Jiniraa. Nothing else mattered.

If only they could remain in their blissful ignorance indefinitely. Unfortunately, reality would come crashing down soon enough.

Next: Twelve - Glass Doll

●●●

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evita-shelby · 3 years ago

Note

Hi !

Can you do one where tommy has an affair and falls in love with a very suductive and manipulative reader ?

@l1-l4 did one similar "devil is a woman" and its SO GOOD , like ...art siriously you need to read it

Dont feel pressured to write anything , thank you 🙂

Oh i love her fics, especially the one where Grace’s sister has an affair with Tommy.

I was going to make this set in like season 6, but them I'd have to write about Ruby, and he cheats on Lizzy in canon already, so this oneshot takes place in season 3 to make the reader way more evil lol

Venus

Gif by @retromafia

If you asked anyone, especially his insipid Irish wife, you’ll hear how Thomas Shelby never cheats.

That things between the two of you were over when she came back fat with his bastard.

If anyone asked his driver, the maid who washed his clothes and Polly, especially Polly who knew him better than anyone else, you’ll hear about the woman he loves who looks like Venus herself.

You met him as a nude model posing for Churchill, you had fucked him with your eyes as he agreed to kill whoever Churchill asked him to kill.

That led to drinks at his pub, a day at the races, a week shopping and fucking in London and all while you remained the chaste widow of some rich old man who died trying to consummate your week-long marriage. People even thought you were still a virgin waiting for her handsome nouveau riche boyfriend to make a move.

You were no angel, you were a demon straight from hell. And the world was just so blind to the fangs you hide beneath your pretty lipstick.

Even Tommy forgot how wicked you were until you unleashed hell after he fucked up with Grace.

Grace Shelby had one boy lost to her forever and a loveless marriage behind closed doors. You made sure everyone and their dog knew it on both sides of the Atlantic.

He married her out of duty, he hadn’t even touched in the two years he made her wait for the wedding he never wanted.

You see, she had assumed Tommy was the daddy, but when the dates didn’t add up, you tearfully told darling Clive’s bereaved mummy how Grace had claimed the little blonde cherub was the product of an affair with your boyfriend because she had never loved sweet, sweet Clive.

Her late husband’s parents had issued an ultimatum that same day, forget Thomas Shelby or forget Clive Junior. They were powerful, Clive’s mum was born a Vanderbilt and his paternal grandmother an Astor, even here no one would dare fuck with them.

But she chose a man over her own child, something no person rich or poor would ever forgive thanks to those tips you gave the tabloids.

You’d never liked Grace, not when you knew her from finishing school nor when the two of you had your court presentations together. You came to loathe her when you discovered your beloved Thomas had fucked her in the same sofa he had said he loved you.

But you still loved him, and he loved you, so you forgave him after punishing him for two years.

Your idiot lover had gotten the marriage license already when he believed the bun in the oven to be his and because of that General Curran had threatened to throw him and his family into prison if he didn’t marry his stupid niece.

You didn’t forgive him for his sins until you showed up at his wedding wearing white and stole the show.

You didn’t care about driving attention to yourself , you feigned innocence and said you assumed that because the bride wore such a garish shade of purple you were free to wear white.

Can you ever forgive me, Y/N? He had asked so sweetly as you led him to the master bedroom that bitch had no idea you decorated.

If she knew that everything had been done by you for you, she’d run for the hills.

You’d kill to see her destroyed, but revenge takes time, something your viper of a mother had taught you well.

He loved you, he felt alive when he was with you, and you knew he wasn’t lying as the two of you fucked on his marriage bed to prove it.

Grace is only here until I can get rid of her, he said when the two of you removed any trace of your affair and returned to the party downstairs.

“Doesn’t Mrs. Shelby look stunning?” your ‘friend’ asked another lady as Grace entered her gala looking like she wanted to cry.

Tommy had used Section D to get his divorce, a divorce that had hit Grace like a missile this morning.

"Pretty and ornamental like a statue.” You heard her companion titter. No one liked Mrs. Shelby, in fact no one cared about her. "A statue that should've been left in the attic, if you ask me."

Not her family, not her husband, not her so called friends. Society hated her, especially when ‘someone’ discovered a story about sweet and innocent romance she had destroyed like the wicked bitch everyone thinks she is.

The guests were only here because you shared the charity with her just as much as you shared the man who funded it.

They came as a favor to you, you who was so sweet and kind and would never abandon a child you bore for a man who didn't love you.

If Grace knew about it, she’d die.

You made a mental note to send an invitation for your wedding in Paris next month.

February 14, a Valentine’s Day wedding for two star-crossed lovers in the most romantic city in the world.

Tommy was yours, heart, soul and body. She could have his name and money for now, but even that would be taken away from her in a heartbeat.

You'll be generous of course, give her some cash and have her return to Northern Ireland where she'll die in obscurity like she deserved. It's not like you'll ever need your late husband’s country home now that you have Arrow House.

“I heard from the housekeeper that he had every trace of her removed today.” Polly gave you a knowing look. She hated Grace for what she did in 1919. “Apparently this is the last time she is appearing in society as his wife.”

“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” You quoted like the saintly women you pretend to be.

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #reader is evil af

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ambivartence · 3 years ago

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sorry in advance if you've already answered a question like this but i just wanted to ask, how do you improve on drawing?? i think especially for things like coloring, shading, and lighting , its been difficult for me to be happy with how it looks because compared to the sketch (that i think already looks nice) the colors just seem sort of flat and muddy and i feel like i dont have a good grip on what colors to put where and how to make it look unflatt if that makes sense! just curious on maybe what kinds of practices and studying you do for this(if any))<33 obv you dont have to answer if you dont want to, and thank you for being one of my inspirations, love youu<33333

hihi!! for simply shading/lighting, i would suggest you only work in black and white until you're totally comfortable with developing values. why? marco bucci explains it really nicely in this video but basically if you have good values u can have absolutely garbage nonsense colors and it will still make sense aka when i did this lol:

i'm guessing you're more interested in colored artwork though since black and white drawings can't be "flat and muddy" bc theyre in grayscale lol. for coloring, this is so tough for me too so i thought about this for a day or so and i came up with 3 tips that might help^^ 1) getting colors directly from photo reference or color reference, 2) manually adding filters/color harmony, and 3) studying color theory

i always work from photo reference so it informs a lot of my coloring/shading/lighting and often when i don't understand what color I'm looking at i directly just eye drop it and realize that what i thought was purple was actually just a gray-red. working from an actual picture helps make sure my colors don't look strange and while i used to think eye-dropping felt like "cheating" when i worked digitally honestly i've learned a lot from it and honestly if i stare at a color long enough i can get it pretty accurately now but i'm just too lazy so eye-dropping just speeds up my workflow (plus i hate digital color pickers anyways they r not built for artists and i wrote an entire paper on it in college once lmao) anyways here's an example of a color study i did by directly eye-dropping from a gif with @quokki's incredible coloring (love u ale <3)

if you're not working from a picture directly, you can still use other pictures or artwork as a "color reference" which I used to do a lot. i like to look at art from other ppl with pretty colors and create a color palette to use in my own drawings. for example, the color palette for this felix painting came from a piece (idr which) by Simón Prades on instagram but this palette is really easy to use since it's linear values it's like working in black and white but comes out looking cooler LOL

Recently for my lee know kiki's delivery service drawing i felt that the colors seemed a little flat n muddy to me because it was in an animated flat coloring style (lol) so I added a filter layer (just a flat apricot color set to overlay at 25% on photoshop) that livened up the whole thing and made it feel more cohesive. It's a pretty subtle difference to other people but made a world of difference to me :) it helped take the muddiness out of the shadows of his face and the glass reflection and took the painting from gloomy rainy day with stale bread to warm sunny day with fresh bread :]

and finally if u are interested in actually studying colors and lighting and shading and stuff these r some of the youtube videos and channels that i think do a great job explaining these very cool concepts:

pre-realism vs post-realism is a cool video about the difference between the mentality of how beginners draw vs how experts draw and kinda blew my mind tbh i think the big color takeaway from this video is that something that kids would color (like green grass) might actually be a totally different color to an artist's eye (dark yellow, red gray, even a super desaturated purple) depending on a realistic lighting situation

nathan fowkes did a 3-part guest talk series on understanding color temperature and relationships: (1) (2) (3) also not coloring but i love his video on value massing

this lecture on what charles bernard calls "the mother color principle" takes the "filtering" tip that i mentioned earlier to a much more developed level (it's an hour long so just skip through it.. u get the gist of what he's saying in a few min but the whole demo is also cool too)

i mentioned him earlier but marco bucci has many 10 min digestable videos about color on his channel that i like :) (also this lighting/value video is great too)

sorry i don't really know exactly how basic or advanced i should cater my advice but i hope this helps some anon^^ lmk if u have questions or if u ever want feedback my inbox and dms r always open

#ask #anon #my questionable advice #damn this makes me want to go back to art school i remember this time last year i was watching so many of these videos and actually studyin #n now ive just been so lazy n only doing black n white again LOL #also rereading this i hate how i write i sound so peppy and prescriptive these r just my two cents!! sorry its so long #its just all the vertical media

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saynotoshityouhate · 4 years ago

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Hi you’ve asked for this and now you’re gonna get it. I want to come visit my boyfriend B. banner in the lab and tease him so badly he almost loses control and then we fuck lol 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Lab Tease

Words: 1679

CW: oral (m receiving), piv sex, little fluffy moments, Bruce calls y/n various sweet pet names.

A/N: Happy 30th Birthday to my dear sweet @ladyinwriting18 . I hope you enjoy your Hulk Smut. I love you dearly! (not beta read or proofread, errors are my own - oops)

Bruce had been spending all of his free time in the lab. You missed your boyfriend. He’d come home late at night, when you were already asleep, and leave before you woke up in the morning. He was so close to a breakthrough on his new project, and you wanted to support him, but you missed him.

You were tired of waiting for Bruce, and too wound up from all those nights alone. It was time to take measures into your own hands. You decided you were going to surprise him at work. You got dressed in his favorite summer sundress of yours, wearing your hair the way he liked, and spritzing your pulse points with perfume - a scent that he had once called “intoxicating.” You were giddy with excitement.

On the drive to the University where Bruce worked, you thought back on the past few weeks alone. You’d wake up when Bruce tried to sneak into bed, his weight shifting the mattress. He’d always apologize for waking you, but you didn’t mind. He’d snuggle in, holding you close and peppering your ear, neck, and shoulders with gentle kisses before passing out from exhaustion. Had he ever noticed the lacy lingerie you’d put on in the hopes he’d be home soon enough to tear it off of you? You shook your head, trying to get those sad thoughts out of your head.

You’d been to the lab once or twice before, so you knew how to navigate the hallways until you reached the heavy mahogany door that read “Banner Lab.” The surrounding walls were littered with art and letters from fans and admirers of your boyfriend’s alter-ego, The Hulk. You smiled, so proud of both sides of him. Carefully turning the doorknob, you pushed the door open. “Hello?” You whispered, not wanting to disturb - although that really was your purpose for being there. No one would be able to hear you anyways over the whir of machines and the faint classic rock playlist that came through the overhead speaker system.

Tiptoeing through the lab, you looked down each aisle, seeking out your dark and handsome beau. Eventually you found him, in a dark corner in the back of the room. His face was pressed into a microscope, hands delicately adjusting the dials on either side. You stood and watched for a moment, admiring his focus, the way his forehead furrowed his tanned skin, the grey streaks in his dark hair glistening in the otherwise horrifying fluorescent lighting. You cleared your throat loudly.

Bruce lifted his head from the microscope before grabbing his glasses from his breast pocket and placing them on the bridge of his nose. Looking up at you, he smiled. “Hi, you.” His voice was soft, a sign of how tired he truly was. You skipped towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. You were ravenous, taking Bruce by surprise. “Whoa, whoa, my darling, what’s going on, why are you here?” You played with the hem of your dress, suddenly self conscious and thinking you’d made a mistake. “I wanted to come surprise you, I thought you’d be happy to see me.” You looked down at your feet, pouting. “Oh, y/n, you know I’m delighted to see you! You know how busy I am though. Why don’t you head back home, I’ll see you when I get back. The lab is so boring, I’m sure you’ll get bored so easily hanging around here with me.” You pouted more dramatically now. You weren’t going to give up so easily.

“Come on, baby, I miss you…I need you,” you whined, standing between his knees, hands unbuttoning the top few buttons of his purple dress shirt. His hands gripped your waist, thumbs rubbing the soft places on your belly. “You know I can’t leave, precious girl. There’s nothing in the world I’d want more.” At this point, your hands were spread wide on his bare chest, the thick black hair intertwined between your fingers. You looked up into his eyes, batting your eyelashes and jutting out your bottom lip. “Pwease, Brucey? I’ll have you back here in thirty minutes.” You traced one finger down Bruce’s chest until you could delicately outline your well-endowed boyfriend through his pants. “I promise, Brucey.” He groaned, both out of frustration and arousal. “Fine. My office. Now.”

Bruce grabbed your hand, basically dragging you out of the lab and down the hallway to his private office. The smile on your face was so wide, your cheeks began to hurt. Bruce opened the office door, pulled you inside, and locked the door behind you both. Taking the hand he held so tightly, he pulled you into his chest. Your hands found his face, holding his plush lips close to yours. You moaned his name into his mouth. “It’s been too long, Bruce.” You moved your hands down his chest, reaching his belt, and began to unbuckle it. Peeling your lips from his, you knelt before him, quickening your efforts to free his length. His girthy cock sprung to attention before your eyes, eliciting a moan from both of you.

Taking the base in one hand, the other gripped on his thigh, your freshly manicured nails digging into his flesh. Slowly, teasing him, you placed hot, wet kisses along the length, avoiding his most sensitive areas. Bruce gripped his desk top for dear life, willing his legs to not give out. Seeing him already struggling made you so proud, and so wet yourself. You squeezed your legs together, trying to provide some relief to the ache between your legs. You licked along the underside of his cock, causing Bruce’s hips to buck. “Sh-shit, y/n, I-I need you. N-need your mouth.” That was all the encouragement you needed - you were happy to oblige. Relaxing your jaw, you took as much of him as you could. As you moved along his length you watched your boyfriend, his face turning purple with effort, forehead furrowed. You always kept an eye on the tips of his ears which, when extraordinarily aroused, would turn the faintest shade of green.

Bruce’s groans were getting louder, and more feral. His ab muscles (which by looking at him, you’d never know how ripped he actually was) were tightening. But then, Bruce pushed you off of him, causing you to lose balance and fall to the floor. You looked up at him, wide eyed and confused. Bruce scrambled to help you up. “Are you okay, darling? I’m sorry.” He had you up and standing now, turning you to stand pressed against his desk. “We don’t have much time, and I want to cum inside you.” He gripped your hips tightly and dove into your neck, biting and kissing down to your collar bones as he lifted the skirt of your dress. “Wanna fill you up, precious little one, want you to walk all the way back to the car with me dripping down your perfect thighs.” You moaned at his dirty comments. He wasn’t one for dirty talk, usually so sweet - but your time apart had made him a man obsessed. He needed you as badly as you needed him.

Having lifted your skirt, he saw how wet you had become, your panties entirely soaked through. He growled, ripping them down your legs. With one thick, calloused digit, he felt through your folds. “So ready for me, aren’t you, darling?” You whined, bucking your hips into his finger. “Please, Brucey, please.” Bruce smiled sweetly, caressing your face with his other hand. “Since you asked nicely.” He helped you lay back on the desk, your dress bunched up around your hips. Taking his weeping cock in hand, he aligned himself at your entrance. He’d usually take his time with you, allowing you to adjust to his sheer size. You didn’t need, or want time. “Need all of you, Bruce, please.” You whined again, now he was the one teasing you.

Bruce slowly entered you fully, pausing to enjoy your warmth and the harmony of both of your moans before establishing his pace. You knew he wouldn’t last much longer, given his earlier furocity and the moans and groans he had trouble holding back. You reached between you, drawing a gentle pattern on your sensitive bud, not needing much, as Bruce was hitting you perfectly. Your back was arched, your head lolling backwards.

Bruce cupped your face with one hand, bringing your attention back on him. His other gripped your thigh tight, leaving marks that would inevitably bruise. “Look at me, sweet girl, look at me.” He wiped an arrant tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Are you going to cum with me, my perfect angel?” You nodded, unable to form words, but your eyes stayed trained on his. He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His perfect smile and his pride in you, his shining gem, was enough to send you over the edge, Bruce following close behind. With a loud, ferocious growl, Bruce filled you fully and completely before collapsing onto your chest.

Chuckling, you ran your fingers through his hair, kissing the top of his head. Holding him securely to your breasts as he descended from his high. “Bruce, I’m so proud of you, but I miss you. I miss us. I don’t like falling asleep without you.” Bruce’s head popped up enough to make eye contact with you. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t know how much it bothered you. I miss you so much, and think about you all the time. I’m going to make more of an effort, I promise. Especially if it means more time for this.” He nuzzled his face into your chest, eliciting a squeal and giggle from you. “I love you,” he mumbled into your chest. Petting his hair, you replied “I love you, more.”

You walked back to your car, thinking of all the ways you could make up for lost time, as your ruined panties failed to hold back the remnants of a surprise mission accomplished.

#bruce banner fluff #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner #avenger x reader #avengers fic #avengers x y/n #marvel fic #marvel smut #marvel x reader #saynotoshityouhate

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th1s1smyw0nd3rland · 3 years ago

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Daydreamer II Dream of the Endless (Part 6)

✧Pairing: Witch! OC x Dream of the Endless/Morpheus

✧Summary: When Dream of the Endless was captured by the magus Roderick Burgess and imprisoned, the Waking World and the Dreaming seemed to be on the path to destruction with Dreams and Nightmares running rampant with no master to keep them in check. All hope seemed to be lost until a special little witch made her way into the Dreaming, her existence vastly different from any other human and with her abilities, maybe hope wasn’t lost after all.

✧Notes: I have only heard of the Sandman through the Netflix and though I’ve watched all of it, I know little to nothing of anything outside of it so apologies if some things aren’t cannon. I am doing my research as I write this out. I also haven’t posted my own writing on tumblr in years so if there are any tips, critiques on post formatting and/or the story of the Sandman in general, would totally appreciate it. (Just please be nice lol I’ve only started writing again all of a sudden)

✧Warnings: some explicit language but besides that, nothing else (yet)

✧Word count: 3387

✧Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Katarina could feel a presence suddenly appear in her apartment, her eyes snapping open as she sat up and she let out a grunt as pain shot through her body. Though she was able to rest, she wondered if it was even for her benefit because now that she was conscious, she could truly feel every ache of her body, feeling as if bricks had been dropped on her. Tears threatened to pour from the corner of her eyes but she forced them back, trying her best to clear her vision so she could pinpoint the presence she felt. She heard a gasp and felt cold hands hovering over her body, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment before opening, her vision clearing enough for her to see the look of worry on Death’s face.

“Shit,” Katarina mumbled, her head leaning back against the couch as she felt Death kneel beside her, looking across the various bruises that decorated her body. “Don’t start, Death. Please?”

“Are you seriously going to play so nonchalant with me, Katarina?”

“Not my government name,” Katarina groaned and Death rolled her eyes, trying to be gentle as she raised Katarina’s arm. “What are you even doing here? Come to spare me?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Death scoffed, shaking her head. “I was running appointments while catching up with my brother but I felt your consciousness fall a little too far away so I had to check in.”

“What a kind friend,” Katarina joked, inciting a smile from the Endless before her eyebrows furrowed, “Wait, your brother?” Death nodded and gestured to the man clad in all black, who stood on the other side of the coffee table that sat between the two couches. He looked different, better nourished, but Katarina recognized the perfectly unkempt black hair, his blue eyes matching the shine of the stars within his black cloak as he stared at her. If she wasn’t so distracted by her pain, she would dare say he looked worried for the little witch.

“Katarina,” Death said, smiling, “My little brother, Dream. Dream, Katarina. She is one of my dearest friends.”

“We’ve actually met before,” Katarina said, “It is good to see you well and outside of a cage, Lord Morpheus.” Dream offered a nod of acknowledgement, making her smile before she let out another groan as Death pressed a little too hard onto her abdomen.

“May I?” Death asked and Katarina sighed.

“Must you?” She retorted and Death gave her a stern look before moving to lift the bottom of her shirt up right below her bra, another gasp leaving Death’s lips. “It’s that bad?”

“Who did this to you?” Death asked instead of answering and Katarina muttered curses as she adjusted on the couch, her eyes widening a bit. Her stomach was various shades of purple and yellow, the bruises forming differently depending on which area the blows were focused on and she felt her anger rise as she imagined the four cowards ambushing her.

“I took care of them, Death, worry not,”

“How can I possibly not worry when-?” “Run me a bath?” Katarina cut in and Death’s eyebrows furrowed, “Please, dear friend? I understand your worry but it is being wasted on me. Simple healing spell on water and voila! Healing bath.”

“I swear, Katarina, you will be the end of me.”

“Oh, how ironic to end an Endless,” Katarina smirked and Death sent a playful glare over her shoulder before she disappeared into the doorway of the bathroom, the creak of the shower being turned heard before the sound of water. Katarina took a deep breath, wincing at the piercing pain near her bottom rib cage as she attempted to get up but her effort was in vain as she landed back on the cushion.

“Wait,” Katarina’s eyes widened at the deep, sultry voice that cut through the room, her eyes moving to look up at Dream as he held his hands out to her, “You are in no condition to be moving on your own.”

“I…” Katarina couldn’t focus for a moment, surprised by how soothing yet sultry his voice sounded, shaking her head a bit as she slowly placed her hands in his, shivering at the cold touch of his skin. “Thank you, Lord Morpheus,” She said though her voice was strained as he helped pull her off the couch, grunting as she basically fell against his body, her legs feeling as heavy as lead.

“You may simply call me Morpheus,” he said softly and she felt her cheeks blush ever so slightly as the sound of his voice vibrated through her ears, closer than she anticipated. “And it is I who should be thanking you, little daydreamer.” Little daydreamer.

“Don’t worry about it..I was simply doing what I could to help..” “You did more than enough,” Katarina let out a soft gasp, her eyes meeting Dream’s as he held her body against his. His eyes were such a beautiful blue, Katarina feeling as if she could see galaxies within them before she looked away, her teeth biting at her bottom lip, “Lucienne informed of all that you did in the Dreaming. As its King, I am indebted to you. Without you, the Dreaming might have ceased to exist.” Katarina nodded her head, her cheeks warm with how red she was turning and she thanked the Gods that they made it to the bathroom, keeping her head low as Death came, the older sister’s cold hands wrapping around her waist from the front. Katarina leaned against her friend, her teeth clenching as she was led to the bathtub, Death holding her up as they stood over it.

“I admit it’s been a while,” Katarina mumbled and she met Death’s eyes, “I gave up magic for the most part after the day I woke up…last night was the first time I had used it.”

“Should I be grateful you didn’t give me more work?” Death joked and Katarina giggled, immediately grasping at her abdomen in pain. “Sorry, sorry…” Katarina offered Death a small smile before leaning over a bit, Death holding her up as her fingers dipped into the warm water. Katarina muttered a spell under her breath, her fingers creating ripples of design before the room was filled with the scents of many herbs, the water turning from blue to green with every swirl she placed into it. Death turned, probably going to tell Dream to leave the room but Katarina placed her hand on her friend’s arm, shaking her head.

“It’s okay,” she said and she gently ran her hand across her chest, her clothes disappearing only to be replaced by a sheer robe of a silken pink color. “I don’t think I could stand trying to take skinny jeans off with these,” she said, gesturing to the various purples that danced across her legs as well and she could feel Death’s anger, which was unlike the Endless. Dream wasn’t happy as well, his lips set in a deep frown as he watched his sister help the one who saved his realm into the water. Katarina hissed as her skin made contact, her hand grasping hard on Death’s as she submerged her whole body. She took deep breaths, her other hand grasping the porcelain of the tub as she willed the pain away, her head leaning back as a wave of calmness flowed through her.

“I’m okay,” she whispered after a moment and she smiled up at Death, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Do not make me worry like this again,” Death scolded as any older sister would and Katarina hummed, “I shall fetch you some tea.” The young witch muttered her gratitude and the Endless left the room, leaving Katarina with Dream, whose eyes were still on her as she sat in the tub but her eyes were on the water, her hair flowing around her.

“Ask away,” Katarina said softly after what felt like an eternity of silence, the only sound being the teapot on the stove and when she looked up at him, his expression was still quite blank but she could see his eyebrow raise ever so slightly as she spoke, “I can practically hear your brain working, lord- uh..Mo-Morpheus.” Nice stuttering, idiot, she thought to herself, her eyes closing as she thought the words to a calming spell in her head, leaning back against the tub as her eyes met his again. He didn’t respond to her, making the spell almost useless if not for his older sister coming back in, a cup of tea in hand. Death smiled at Katarina, placing the cup on the little table near the tub before kneeling beside it.

“I must go,” Death said softly and Katarina nodded in understanding, her hand coming up to wrap around hers. “I wish I could stay..”

“You have a job to do,” Katarina said, “Don’t worry, seriously. I’ll soak up here for some time and be as good as new.”

“I shall check in as soon as I can.” “I look forward to it. Thank you for coming to see me,” The two shared another smile, Death giving her hand a squeeze before she was off to finish the appointments she had lined up. Dream remained, much to Katarina’s surprise but she honestly didn’t mind his silent company, oddly feeling relaxed and calm in his presence. She laid in the tub for a while, Dream eventually perching himself on a chair and the two stayed in comfortable silence, Katarina occasionally having to heat the water with a warming spell.

“You have not been sleeping,” The king said, cutting through the silence and the young girl looked to him, tilting her head, “Your books of dreams only has a few lines since you have awoken.”

“Yes,” Katarina said slowly, nodding her head and she leaned her head on her arms that were folded on the tub, her eyes on the Endless, “I slept for quite a while so I guess my body doesn’t believe I need much of it at the moment. How was the quest for your tools?”

“I have them all,” Dream answered but his face showed his slight confusion at how she knew.

“As you said, my book only has a few lines so I have slept since waking up, just not much. I saw Lucienne one time when I slept and she informed me of your adventures.” Dream only hummed in response, “This wasn’t our first time meeting nor was it when I freed you from my cage…”

“I have known you a long time, daydreamer. Since you were a child, conjuring villages in my realm.”

“And you allowed that?” Katarina laughed quietly, shaking her head as she pictured the little houses with mushrooms for roofs, “I can’t help but feel like I need to apologize for the terrible architecture that is my little village.”

“Perhaps,” Dream said and Katarina feigned offense as she smiled at him, “You were but a child, I would not destroy the little place you hold dear.”

“I appreciate that, Morpheus and I appreciate all that freedom you gave me in the Dreaming.”

“Clearly it was a good decision, given how much you salvaged in my absence.”

“Oh, as I told Lucienne, what I did was minimal if even that. I am sure you did a far superior job given that realm is as much you as you are it.”

“I still offer you my eternal gratitude,” Katarina shook her head, slowly standing and she let out a sigh of relief at the ease, her bruises much less saturated in color, “Kata-”

“Oh!” She overestimated her body, her legs giving out from sitting for so long and she would have toppled over the tub if not for Dream who quickly moved to catch her in his arms. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek as his body bent, his other arm looping underneath her legs. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her eyes closed and her cheeks warm as gently placed her by the chair he sat at, easing her down onto it.

“Forgive me,” she sighed out, “I got you we-” Her sentence was cut short as he was most definitely still dry, staring down at her. Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes moving to her own body to find that she too was dry, the robe still covering the parts of her body she needed. She brushed against the fading bruises on her skin with her fingers, trying out her breathing and finding her chest feeling not as constricted with each breath. “Good as new….almost.” She muttered and she looked back at Dream, who stared at her disappearing bruises with an intense interest. She gave him a small smile, running her hand across her chest once again and the robe was replaced with an oversized t-shirt, her hand running through her hair as she pulled it out of its bun.

“You must rest,” he said and she contemplated it for a moment before shaking her head, rubbing her upper arms as she made her way to the kitchen, “It wasn’t a request, daydreamer.” “You are not my master, Morpheus,” Katarina snipped quickly and she waved her hand, her cup of tea that Death had brought unfortunately forgotten floating from the bathroom and into her hand. She muttered a heating spell and blew at the now piping hot cup of tea before taking a sip, a satisfied sigh leaving her lips. “Death always makes the best tea.”

“I could make you sleep,” She froze at his words, though not said maliciously, sent a shiver down her spine as she turned to look at him, her hands still bringing the cup to her lips and she raised an eyebrow at him, “I am not as powerless as I was when I was imprisoned. Not anywhere near so.”

“I believe it,” Katarina said but she showed no intention to move, leaning her hips against the sink as she watched him walk towards her. His cloak flowed behind the back of his knees and she swore she could see the galaxies on the fabrics inside but she refused to distract herself with the stars, her guard up as the Endless approached her, “I do not need rest, Morpheus.” She stated simply but he didn’t respond, his eyes holding hers as he stopped to stand before her, her head having to tilt up to keep looking at him due to their height difference. She blew against the tea, her eyes never leaving his and she continued to drink it, an almost challenging look on her face.

“You challenge Dream of the Endless?” He asked quietly and her head tilted as an eyebrow raised, her hand putting down the now empty cup before she leaned her hands behind her on the edge of the sink.

“You challenge a witch who spent the last eighty years asleep?” She responded back, though she knew in reality her words were just that: words. She most definitely did not have the power to go against him and she wondered where she got the courage to be as bold as she was but she didn’t waver as they continued to stare each other down.

“I will speak with Death.”

“You threaten me with your sister? Seriously?” She scoffed but when he didn’t move, her mouth moved into a frown as her eyebrows furrowed. “You have no means to contact her from here.”

“I do not need it. Her sigil sits in my gallery in the Dreaming. You know I have my tools, it is a handful of sand away.”

“You have no reason to-”

“Death would not find it appropriate for you not to get adequate rest, given the damage to your body.”

“Morpheus-”

“Katarina,” He interrupted her again and he took a step forward, making her demeanor crumble as he stood only a few inches from her, feeling his breath on her face, “I do not bluff with words. I will call upon my sister if you do not comply.”

“I’m not tired,” she whispered but she immediately regretted opening her mouth when his eyes narrowed, “I can understand Death’s worry but why would I be worth any of your time, Morpheus?”

“I am indebted to you, Katarina and believe me, those in my realm have not spared me a moment without a mention of your name and what you have done in the Dreaming. You are referred to as ‘Lady’ to everyone who I have seen since my return,” Her eyes widened at his words, never expecting that anyone would remember her let alone offer such praises to their King. She bowed her head, her hands coming together as she fiddled with her fingers and she let the silence fill the air as she was rendered speechless by the warmth that spread across her chest by those words he had spoken. I did something, she thought to herself and she tried to force the tears that threatened to form, her throat tightening at the overwhelming emotions that suddenly flooded her being. She felt his eyes still on her and after a moment, when she gained her composure, she looked back up at him.

“Okay,” She said softly and Dream’s head tilted slightly in question, “I’ll try to sleep, but I will do so without your sand for now, if you’ll allow that.”

“I will stay in case you cannot.”

“You need not bother-”

“I will stay,” he said firmly and she nodded, giving the Endless a small smile as she pushed herself from the edge of the sink. She walked herself to her bedroom, her nerves growing as she felt him follow, her thumb coming up so she could gently bite at her thumb nail. Thankfully, her room was clean though she wasn’t sure if Dream would even care as she turned the lights off before sitting on the edge of her bed, the only light being the moon through the curtains. Dream moved to sit on a chair beside her window and she glanced at him before moving to get under her covers, laying on her back to try and avoid his gaze. It didn’t help but she closed her eyes regardless, taking slow breaths as she tried to lull her mind and body to sleep. It felt awkward, feeling his gaze on her and she fidgeted a bit under the covers as she begged her mind to sleep but to no avail. She knew her mind didn’t want to risk what she would see when she slept but she kept her eyes closed, for some reason not wanting the King to know of the nightmare that plagued her mind since she awoke.

“Katarina,” she slowly opened her eyes at the sound of his voice and she turned to look, surprised that he now stood beside her bed, his eyes boring into hers, “You are unable to sleep.”

“It…still has proven difficult since I woke up all those months ago…I am unsure why,” she mumbled, her hands absentmindedly playing with the edge of her covers and although it wasn’t the whole truth, she didn’t find it necessary to explain further, “I’m sorry..”

“It is unnecessary to apologize,” he said softly, quietly and she felt her breath catch in her throat for a moment at how low his voice sounded, sultry even in her ears, “Allow me to lead you to the Dreaming, to my realm…” his voice was so soft, his words slow and Katarina felt her eyes suddenly grow heavy, his words becoming more distant as her mind was calmed by the sound of him. She didn’t even have a moment to process before she was asleep, her head tilting slightly as her chest moved up and down with her slow breaths, her body finally relaxed. Dream stood by her side for a moment more, his eyes lingering on her face and he marveled at how peaceful she looked, her skin shining with the moonlight. His hand tentatively came up, his fingers hovering over the area of her cheek but he didn’t make contact, hesitant for a moment before his hand fell back to his side.

“I shall see you in the Dreaming, little daydreamer.”

#Sandman #The Sandman #dream of the endless #dream fanfiction #dream fanfic #dream imagine #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus x oc #Morpheus fluff #morpheus

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nohoney · 4 years ago

Text

Eyes lit

notes: Artist Keigo is something I did not know I needed until I made my own dumb paintings lol. Title credit from Crimewave by Crystal Castles

characters: Hawks/Keigo Takami

warnings: 18+, artist!Hawks, drug use, minor choking

summary:

You see swirls of purples and greens forming spirals that you’ve never thought of before, dancing like glitter being blown in the wind and then suddenly you see white. You’re thinking in tones of purples and pinks, they pulse and shine against a wall of white and now you’re thinking of Valentine’s day.

The blanket is pulled from over your head and you look up into golden honey eyes, they look even brighter and you swear that they glow as you look up into them. “You having fun under there babe?”

I’m not an artist, I don’t know how to paint. You told him, intimidated initially when you walked into his apartment and saw a box of paints along with two small easels. The only painting you’ve done was just with your fingers back in elementary school when you were a child, how were you supposed to paint alongside someone who’s a fucking art major who’s got a whole portfolio to backup his experience? But Keigo eased your worries, told you that there’s no need to be intimidated at all.

“You don’t have to worry at all about being good or anything like that dove. The trip will tell you what to paint.”

“It’s gonna look like shit when the trip is over Keigo.”

“Don’t say that dove, art is subjective. Trust me, when you’re on you won’t care as much.” He touches the small of your back and leads you towards the dinner table, “And besides, you might really like what you make in the end.”

“I don’t know what I want to paint.”

“The trip will tell you what to paint, you’ll see.”

Keigo has you sit down to eat first, just takeout pizza from a nearby restaurant along with some breadsticks. Barbecue chicken with a side of ranch, he doesn’t like pepperoni pizza at all. His first choice was fried chicken or wings but that’s damn near what you eat with him almost all the time so this is his compromise. He’s got a little basket of snacks and candy on his kitchen countertop, prepared ahead of time for tonight along with a plastic container of red and green grapes already washed.

“I don’t like grapes Keigo.”

“Trust me, you’ll be grateful to those grapes when you’re on dove.”

He brought out a plastic baggie from his fridge and set out the contents of it onto a wooden chopping board, watching as he broke up the small pieces carefully with a knife. You heard that acid comes in forms of little blotter paper or that people put a drop of it into sugar cubes and dissolve it in water to micro dose someone. Keigo cuts two pieces of what look like little window panes, very small fragments and when you inspect them closer, it almost looks as if there’s little gold flakes inside the gelatin.

“When will I know it’s kicking in?” you ask him, looking down at the tiny piece that sits in the palm of your hand. Such a small little thing that’s apparently a strong hallucinogenic, Keigo’s told you before that he’s felt his sensations cross over like hearing colors or seeing sounds. You had no idea what he spoke of but the best way to find out is to give it a try. “How long will it take?”

Keigo’s fixing up the easels in front of the couch, has blankets ready and is putting a video playlist up on his television. “Depends on the person but most of the time it tends to kick in after half an hour or so. You’ll know when you’re on, you’ll see it.” he explains.

You look around Keigo’s apartment, paintings he made himself hung up on the walls of his home. Most of his paintings were done sober but he’s got a few framed up that he’s particularly proud of that he made when he went on acid trips. He’s already such an amazing artist, certain pictures on his walls capturing your attention and invoking particular emotions from you. You’ve seen Keigo color match your sweater in just a mere manner of seconds, sampling little bits of paints and combining them until the hues matched exactly what you were wearing. And there’s you, just a mere amateur when it came to the arts. But Keigo assures you again that it’s not about making something ‘good’, it’s just there for you to have fun with it. He’s got canvases of all shapes and sizes for you to work with and that even though he’ll be on too, he’s definitely going to take care of you for your first trip.

You trust Keigo, it’s just the canvases and the paints that make you nervous.

He stands in front of you, smiling gently before leaning down to kiss you. His lips are soft, just a hint of vanilla you taste off his mouth because you let him borrow your chapstick earlier, and it’s so tender the way he holds your cheek in his hand that your heart flutters in your chest and butterflies tickle the inside of your tummy. You feel a little flustered when he pulls back, blonde hair swept back stylishly and a lazy grin on his face as he holds his own tab in between his fingertips.

“Cheers!”

The little tab goes underneath your tongue and you’re just supposed to wait for it to dissolve.

So Keigo puts on the playlist and the two of you talk for a little bit before moving to the art stations. “Choose whatever colors you want dove, choose the colors that you think will speak to you.”

You squeeze certain colors you think you want to work with into your little plastic palette, making sure to shake the bottles first and filling all the little spaces that’s meant to hold the paint. Keigo easily chooses the paints he knows he’s going to work with to start himself off and sets himself in front of his easel. He wears a simple red hoodie and gray sweats, comfortable loungewear for the next few hours and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t notice the print of his cock sometimes when he swiveled his hips a certain way. You wear pajamas pants and one of your soft sweaters, a gentle shade of lilac, perfect for keeping you warm on this rainy night.

You know you’ll be exhausted by the end of it, deciding to take acid for the first time overnight but at least you’ll have the next two days to recover.

And you’ll have Keigo as well.

He makes easy conversation with you, talking about how his week was and in turn asking how yours was. You look down at the paints in your palette as you talk back and forth with him, forcing yourself to not wonder how much time has passed. Your phone is by the kitchen table, placed face down so that you don’t obsess over the time so you try to measure the amount of time has passed based on the time of the videos playing on the television. Yet you start to care less about the time as you actually start to get caught up in the paints in front of you, experimenting and pleasantly surprised with how you came up with such a pretty violet color. You point it out to Keigo, stupidly excited over it but he smiles and agrees with you. “Such a pretty color dove, but not as pretty as you.”

His words make the butterflies flutter in your stomach again but you say nothing, turning back to your canvas and picking up a brush. For a few minutes you just stare back and forth between the paint and the white canvas, wondering how you should start off. Keigo obviously sees you concentrating too hard and reminds you, “Don’t think about it too hard, just paint and see what happens.”

Okay... so in other words, just do it.

So you take a deep breath, dip your brush in the paint, and make a single stripe at the very top edge of the canvas.

“See? Not so scary.”

“Y-Yeah, it’s not!” You squeak out, still embarrassed but a little less intimidated now that you actually started it. You’re not exactly sure what you’ll do with it but there’s no harm in just winging it.

Hm... wings...

You glance over to Keigo, one of his sleeves rolled up and his tattoo visible on his forearm. It’s a detailed wing on his forearm inked in only black, the very tip of it extended towards his elbow and he’s got a matching one on his other forearm as well. You remember the first time you saw them and how Keigo let you run your fingers over his tattoo, watching in amusement over how fascinated you were.

Back to your canvas, you see the sheen of the fresh paint on the white canvas and decide to add more to it. Maybe you’ll get inspired the more you add to it, thinking what colors compliment violet and what exactly you could create. Over the next few minutes you just continue painting the violet further onto the surface of the canvas, looking down briefly at the black paint that’s also in your palette and wonder if you could try painting a mountain. You recall plenty of times looking up at the sky when you were done hiking and just in awe of the colors of the sunset, hues of purples and reds and orange that invoked a certain feeling in your chest.

A sunset... a sunset!

Easy enough yeah?

You just have to add red, orange, yellow, probably a touch of blue... some clouds would be nice too.

So you spread more of the purple across the canvas, concentrating hard at first before realizing something. “Keigo?”

“Yes dove?”

“I think my painting is breathing.”

Keigo laughs from his side and you feel his hand ruffle your hair affectionately.

You look hard at your canvas and swear that you can see the paint inhale and exhale, the veins of the paint pulse in the painting. Wait... veins? You don’t remember painting anything like that, all you did was just cover part of the canvas to get you started. The longer you stare at the canvas, you swear that you can see the paint drip down slightly, the canvas inflating and deflating, and hidden designs on the untouched parts of the white canvas.

The acid had finally hit.

“Keigo... I think I’m on.” you say as you dip your brush into the water cup to wash off the violet, this time into the yellow paint and haphazardly brushing it onto the canvas before switching over to the bright red without washing off the yellow. You think how powerful the color red is, how strong and overpowering it is on the canvas and you tell Keigo, “I think you’d look gorgeous with red wings Keigo.”

Keigo is concentrated on his own canvas but he does glance over to you and smiles how you’re suddenly so into painting when you were so reluctant at first when you walked into his studio. He watches you blend the red into the yellow, wondering what exactly is inspiring you and what your finished product will be. “Ah how interesting dove, you comparing me to an angel?”

“Angel wings are white, I said your wings would be red.”

“Why red?”

You shrug your shoulders as you brush some blue onto the violet on the top of the canvas, blending the blue and violet together. “I don’t know, just suits you a lot... I wore wings last year, I was an angel last year for Halloween.”

“You dressed like an angel last year for Halloween, you certainly didn’t act like one.”

Suddenly the memory of last year’s Halloween comes rushing to the front of your memory and you begin to giggle, needing to set your brush down and have your little giggle fit; he was very right, drunk shenanigans in your angelic costume while holding White Russians with your friends surfacing to your mind. You don’t know why you’re so amused but you are, leaning back against the couch and curling yourself into a ball. You pull the blanket over your shoulders, pulling the bottom corners into your lap and you look down in awe. You swear that even though you’re sitting still, the blanket looks like it’s pulsing as well and you can see the small fibers of it sticking out from the surface. You can’t help but pick at one and hold it in between your fingertips, staring for a few seconds before releasing it.

Moving to lie on your side, you press your cheek into the couch cushion and stare at the painting you just started. It looks weird right now, purple on top with yellow and red in the middle but you’re determined that you’re going to paint that sunset!

You look over towards Keigo, seeing that he started off his canvas a golden yellow at first and is brushing a crimson red on top of it as well. It sort of reminds you of fire and you wonder what he’s seeing. You pull the blanket over your head, sheltering you from the bright lights of the room and you stare at your own hands right in front of your face. Every line and wrinkle is moving, like they’re switching places on you and you ‘ooh’ quietly. When you shut your eyes, it’s not a straight darkness you see like when you close your eyes and go to bed. You see swirls of purples and greens forming spirals that you’ve never thought of before, dancing like glitter being blown in the wind and then suddenly you see white. You’re thinking in tones of purples and pinks, they pulse and shine against a wall of white and now you’re thinking of Valentine’s day.

The blanket is pulled from over your head and you look up into golden honey eyes, they look even brighter and you swear that they glow as you look up into them. “You having fun under there babe?” Keigo asks you, clearly amused to have looked back and saw you as just a lump under his blanket. “Yeah, looks like you’re having fun.”

“Hehehe... yeah.” you smile up at him, pushing some of your hair back from your face. You look as he presents a single red grape to you, drops of water still on it to let you know that it had just been washed and while grapes weren’t your favorite fruit to eat, somehow they looked so appetizing in that moment. You open your mouth and Keigo places the fruit into your mouth, chomping down and it’s so juicy and firm and crunches so loud in your head that you moan as you chew.

Delicious, it’s delicious!

Keigo feeds you grapes every so often, whether you’re sitting in front of your canvas to continue painting, looking at the television and the visuals presented along with the music, get up to look at his other paintings that you think are whispering or waving to you, or when you decide to just stare at the tapestry he hung up in front of his balcony. You understand why tie dye is so appealing to look at now, you know for sure it’s not the wind making the tapestry move, the colors waving at you and you try to reach into the tapestry, your fingertips just barely grasping the colors in front of you.

“How long has it been Keigo?” you ask as you continue to look at the tapestry.

“It’s almost eleven, so it’s been three hours since we took it.”

Wow, three hours...

You’re not sure how the passage of time is feeling for you, everything is looking warped and you suppose that your sense of time is included in that as well.

You feel hands under your armpits and your lifted up to your feet, leaning back and touching the arms that hold you securely. The tattooed wings on Keigo’s forearm, the feathers look as if they’re rustled, they look like they need to be preened. It’s important for birds to preen their feathers so that their wings look presentable. “Okay dove, time for a bathroom break. Think you’ll need my help?”

No, you’re a big girl, of course you can go to the bathroom yourself.

Though you do have to ask Keigo to hold your hand, looking down at the floor and not trusting your own feet. It’s like you’re looking through a fish eye lens, like the floor seems so much wider and closer to you. Keigo says something to you when he drops you off at the bathroom but you don’t hear him, humming absently and you close the door. You do your business and wash your hands, using the nearby hand towel to dry off your hands and then you look up at the mirror.

You lean forward and inspect your pupils, they’re blown up and you think you can see shifting colors in your iris. You really are on, pulling back and inspecting your reflection. Now you feel like you’re caught, not sure if you recognize the person who’s looking back at you and... and... is the shower curtain moving towards you? Is that really you in the mirror? Your hair is never this mussed up and the color of your shirt you always liked before but why did it look so weird on you now?

“Dove, I’m coming in.” Keigo announces and slowly pushes open the door so that he doesn’t catch you in any indecent state. But he sees you just staring intently at your reflection and just comes up behind you, pressing his front to your back and tilting your head back to look at him. “Ah got caught looking at yourself in the mirror huh? S’alright, the first time I did acid apparently I spent a half hour just looking at my own reflection too.”

His eyes are the color of honey and you think you can suddenly taste it in your mouth, you imagine it. “Your eyes are pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

But you shake your head at the compliment and ask, “Did I always look so weird Keigo?” you ask him, reaching one hand up and brushing the tips of your fingers along his stubble.

“No you never look weird, you’re always so cute.” he reassures you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Go back to the living room, lemme have my bathroom break and I’ll join you in a hot minute.”

“Don’t fall in the mirror.” you say absently as you walk out the bathroom and shut the door. You hold onto anything you can to help balance you, the floorboards beneath your feet look as if they’re trying to trip you up but you manage on your own to make your way back to your spot on the couch, staring at your unfinished painting.

What... what was I making again?

Violet, blue, red, yellow... oh yeah, the sunset.

Keigo really was right when he said that trip would decide what you would paint.

You don’t hear the bathroom door open but you look up as Keigo comes into your vision and ask, “How do I make clouds?”

“How do you mean? Like how clouds are made in the sky? Well you see clouds are made of water droplets that are so small that they’re able to stay in the air. You see the water vapor-” Keigo starts on what you know is a very educational lecture on clouds but you stop him with a whine, pointing to your canvas. “Oh... oh! You want to know how to paint clouds. Haha, sorry dove!”

Keigo makes himself comfortable right behind you, your bodies once again pressed to one another as he hands you the palette of paint and picks up a different paint brush has you hold it in your own hand but he covers it with his own; you’ll hold the brush while he controls your movements. So he dips the paint brush in the white paint, also adding in a touch of red that almost makes it pink and you gasp. It’s not gonna go together! you think but Keigo hushes you, tells you to just trust him. And although you’re watching how he dabs the paintbrush onto your canvas, you’re not really perceiving the process. One minute it’s a messy slate of purple, yellow and red and then boom suddenly there are clouds that actually create a picture. “Ah you were trying to make a sunset, I can see why you wanted to paint clouds. Very creative, I’m proud of you!”

“I did that?”

“You did!”

He praises you as if you were a child doing it for the first time... though you actually are painting for the first time and honestly it actually is coming out pretty nice, though it’s only thanks to the help of Keigo. So you look back at him, pressing your lips against briefly and whisper out, “Thank you.”

Returning back to his canvas, you decide that you can continue painting on your own. You close your eyes and try to remember any memory that contains a sunset, whether it was through your own eyes or perhaps looking at images on the internet. You try your hardest, your mind producing more interesting shapes and patterns of colors that almost distract you but you’re going to pain that sunset damn it! So you blend the colors on the canvas, adding in more tones of violet and purple towards the bottom to cover up the blank spots. You thought about adding in a mountain or some trees but you feel that’s much too advanced for you to attempt, though you know that you can ask Keigo again but he already helped you once. Now you were determined to do another by yourself.

You ask if you can have another canvas and Keigo gets up to the little pile of untouched ones. When he hands you one and ask if it’s a good size, it’s a question you can really answer because the way he holds it out to you makes it seem to long. And realizing that your perception is altering the way you look at the canvas, he holds it upright for you and you ask for something a little bigger.

Carefully setting aside the sunset painting... whoa it’s like the clouds are really moving!

Focus.

You set up the new blank canvas in front of you, wondering what to make next.

“Ah I almost forgot, I got this for you too while I was at the craft store.” Keigo tells you as he brings up the box paints, holding out a tube of-

“Ooooh... glitter.” you awe at the opalescent colors, holding it against the light to see sheens of white and pink and purple. You’re not sure if it’s the acid or not but it looks extra pretty and you shake the little tube in your hand.

“Have fun with it just uh... make sure to not get too messy.”

You could imagine such pretty colors like the stars and them falling into your eyes... oh, you could make a starry night for your next painting. So you enthusiastically brush more violet and blue onto the new canvas along with a touch of black to make a dark sky. The canvas breathes at you and you think that the more color you add to it, you think you can hear it sigh in relief. You blend it all together and wonder what else you could add to it. You drift to the palette and zero in on the white paint, exchanging your current paint brush for a smaller one, dipping it into the white paint and just making little dots here and there to represent the stars. Then you open the tube of fine glitter and you’re particularly giddy; your painting is going to be amazing, it’s going to look exactly like the night sky... no even better! It’ll be like the cosmos!

You must have been a little overzealous with the glitter on your painting because Keigo nudges a towel just right underneath your easel and you feel him pat down your feet.

Careful with the edges of the painting since it’s still wet, you gently shake off any of the excess glitter and then lean back to really inspect it. In the moment it really looks like a beautiful starry sky and you think that you can literally see shooting stars in it, so sparkly and pretty in the moment. You pull the blanket back over your body and crawl your way to Keigo’s side of the couch, sitting behind him and perching your chin atop his shoulder. Weird, you could have sworn that when he first started painting he started off with yellow and red, he’s painting over it with blue and green now. “Keigo, what are you painting?”

“I don’t know. I started off thinking about fire at first and then all of a sudden I just started putting green and blue together... I think I might have been either thinking about the ocean or the forest... I forget.” Keigo explains, still not stopping his paint brush over the surface. You guess that even artists start off sometimes nonsensical too and that they don’t always have a clear idea how their end product might come out. But you still admire it anyway, reaching your hand out and loosely holding onto his wrist. His arms look even longer from where you’re looking and yet he’s sitting so close to his painting at the same time.

Perception sure is a strange thing when you’re on.

He smells nice, pressing your nose into his neck and breathing in his cologne, humming in delight and pressing yourself even closer to him.

Now you’re not exactly the bold type, every once in a while you’ve decided to make the first move but most of the time you let others give you the signal first before you flirt back. Already you and Keigo have been seeing each other for a few weeks, a few dates here and there but you’ve yet to progress anything spicier than a few make outs and maybe some teasing touches. So it comes as a surprise to him when you drag a hand down from his chest and let it rest in between his spread legs, groaning when you lick the shell of his ear and nibble on it. “B-Babe... we’re supposed to be... to be...”

“Painting? That canvas isn’t the only thing you can paint Keigo.” you whisper in his ear, feeling for his cock in his gray sweats and pleased that you can feel that he’s getting hard. You form your hand over his cock and stroke it through the sweats while your other hand drags over his arm, still stretched out towards the painting but now his arm is tense. “For example... you can paint me with your cum. Inside or out, I’ll let the artist decide.”

Keigo sets down his paint brush and his palette before tugging you to his bed.

It’s dark in his room when he shuts the door but you’re quickly put on the surface of his bed. You can hear him fiddling around somewhere in the corner of the room and then red light fills the room, it’s pretty basic of him to own those strip lights seeing as you’ve had more than a few friends decorate their room with it too but now isn’t the time to critique the mood lighting. You do have to wonder why the color red, why not just put on the regular ceiling lights?

He’s on you once the lights are on, pulling off your pajama bottoms and setting them to the side for the time being. Spreading your legs open, Keigo starts off with kissing the inside of your thighs and slowly goes up higher. Your panties are still on but you moan softly when he kisses your pussy through the cotton, then it’s up to your belly button, pushing your sweater up along with the soft bra you decided to wear tonight as stops to pay attention to your breasts, nipples perked up to the cold air along with the way Keigo flicks his tongue over them. While he sucks hickies onto your breasts, you run your hand through his hair and look up at the ceiling, you think you can hear the flap of a bird’s wings and think something flutters from the corner of your eye. “K-Keigo... is it okay for us to do this while we’re on?”

“You’re safe babe, I’m here.” he assures you as he helps tug off your sweater over your head. “Just focus on me, I’ve done this before.”

Oh great, he didn’t just allude that he’s fucked other people on acid before did he?

Keigo seems to catch his choice of words and grinds his clothed cock against your panties and gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just mean that sometimes sex on acid can be a precarious thing to engage in, I just wanna let you know that I got you.” he presses the pad of his thumb where he guesses your clit is. “You trust me yeah?”

Yeah, I do.

“How about a little art lesson for ya? That’ll help get you in the mood and you’ll learn something interesting.” Keigo takes off his sweats and his underwear, leaving you the only one who’s almost naked in the room. The music still plays from the living room, smooth guitar and easy beats still reach your ears. “You wanna know why I made the lights red? Red provokes the strongest emotion and is considered the warmest and most contradictory of the colors. Can you tell me some things you think of when you think of the color red?”

Apples, firetrucks, blood.

“Red is one of the most visible colors in the spectrum, its the kind of color that’s an attention grabber which is why it’s used to warn people of danger. Red can convey a sense of danger,” Keigo explains this while he pets you through your panties, it’s almost leisurely the way he does it but he can see how you quiver underneath his touch. “but it’s also associated with excitement, that even sometimes just being exposed to the color can cause elevated blood pressure and heart rate.”

Your heart rate is certainly up right now and it’s not just because of the acid.

You feel Keigo pull your panties to the side and easily glide a finger in but he wants something in return as well, “Spit in your hand and stroke my cock.”

As you stroke Keigo and he gently fingers you, he continues on about his lesson on the color red. “So along with danger, excitement, there’s also aggression and dominance. There’s not exactly a clear reason why red is associated with dominance, maybe it just goes hand in hand with feeling aggressive, perhaps also representing power as well.”

“K-Kei... please get to the point!” you whine, sitting up with one hand braced on the bed while the other continues to stroke him. He’s added another finger and you notice that he’s put a little bit more vigor in his actions. “Please won’t you just-”

“Most of all though, my little bird,” Keigo continues over you but you can take a guess where this ‘art lesson’ is going by the way his lips quirk up and how is voice drops. “red is also linked to passion, love, and desire, that it’s apparently a very attractive color. You remember what color you wore the first time we met?”

“You... you saying that you only liked me ‘cause I was wearing red?” you ask, a breathy laugh leaving your lips but then whine as Keigo strokes your g-spot and you almost dropped back onto the bed but he’s quick to catch you. He quickly pulls his fingers out of you and winds it around your waist to pull you flush against him and settles you in his lap, your hand trapped between your bodies but you continue to jerk his cock despite the limited space.

Keigo chuckles along with you, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck and give you a gentle bite. “Aha I’m just teasing you dove, it was your cute face I saw first and besides, you weren’t wearing a red shirt when we first met... You were wearing red panties, I remember seeing them when you bent over in that short little black dress.”

“You’re embarrassing.” you mumble, adjusting yourself so that you hover over his cock, slapping the head of it against your clit. “And that wasn’t an art lesson, that was more like color psychology.”

“You still learned something, did you not?”

You cup Keigo’s cheeks in your hands, kissing him briefly and pull back to tell him, “I’m not looking to learn anything except how your cock feels inside me.”

So you brace your arms around Keigo’s shoulders, sighing as he eases himself into you slowly. His hands hold your ass, gently lifting you off his cock and then easing you down again to take him further, repeating the process until his girth was sheathed all the way inside you. You gasp together, you at his size and him at your tightness, hands all over each other and you’re wondering where his body begins and yours ends. Whatever other cocks you had inside you before, they’ve never felt like this when they first entered you.

And then the two of you are moving in sync with one another, holding each other’s gaze, just barely able to see the reflection of each other in your blown out pupils. You can’t really see the honey gold of his eyes thanks to the lights but you you think you can taste it still, every time you just taste that sweet nectar when you look into Keigo’s eyes. It must mean how sweet he is, that must be why his eyes are colored like that.

He’s sweet like honey.

Again, you hear the flap of a bird’s wings even though you know the bedroom window isn’t open.

It’s slow and sensual at first, sex on acid is something more heightened, something indescribable behind the sensations as you lean back slightly to roll your hips while you meet Keigo’s thrusts. Your hands locked behind his neck and your head lolling back, a sensual sigh from you when you feel a hand go to your throat. A breathy ‘yes’ spills from your lips as the pads of the fingers carefully press at the sides of your neck; feels good, feels so good...

Suddenly you’re pushed onto your back, gasping in surprise at first and then uninhibited moans as he viciously fucks you. And what can you do but take it, take all of it, peering at him through the haze of pleasure and the peak of your high when you see it.

Bright red wings spreading from Keigo’s back, brighter than the lights, the feathers ruffle and seem to groan alongside him, he’s losing himself in this carnal moment, bracing himself over you and the wings coming forward as well. You feel floaty, almost as if the wings are carrying you themselves, you think you can feel feathers tickle your skin while Keigo’s hands have your hands pinned above your head, your ankles locking just right above his buttocks.

It feels like the sex is lasting forever, that as fast and hard Keigo pumps into you it feels never ending. In truth you don’t know how much time has actually passed, just that the passage of time seems longer. But it feels good, you feel one with Keigo and even just the slightest clench of your fingers intertwined with his feels even more intimate. His panting, your whimpers, the music, the lights, the flapping of the wings, and you crying out his name.

Even as you clench your eyes shut, swirling patterns of hues of red dance behind your eyelids. They seem to move in time with Keigo’s tempo, every slap of his hips connecting with your body, they respond accordingly. You feel one of his hands drawn down from your neck, past your breasts, giggling when he goes over your belly button, and groan when he plays with your clit.

He praises you, tells you how good you’re doing even though you’re just lying there and taking it, you try to participate by rolling your hips up to meet his but his power is just too overwhelming. “Kei... Kei... go, it feels so good...!”

You wriggle your other hand free from his and pull him down, practically hugging him and bringing him even closer, eyes shut hard as he goes into double time. His face is pushed into your neck, breathing hard into it and you think you can hear his wings flapping even harder. His hands hold your waist, just lifting you up slightly so that your back slightly arches.

Soft skin against rough hands.

“Where you going to paint your cum Keigo?” you ask, your lips just barely brushing against the shell of his ear. “All over my face? My tits? Maybe... even turn me around and blow it all over my back?”

“Fuck! Keep talking like that! ’M gonna cum dove... I’m gon’a cum!”

You push him back just enough and once again cup his face in your hands, “Look at me when you cum.”

Jittery nods of his head, he’ll absolutely obey anything you want as long as you don’t let him leave inside of you. All over your face would be so nice, your tits even nicer, he hasn’t pulled out to cum on someone’s back in months but fuck when you mention it, it’s so fucking enticing. But nothing beats when it’s oozing out, like ice cream melting on a hot day as it drips so he has to ask you if it’s okay. “Babe... can I paint you inside babe?”

Does an artist even have to ask permission to paint their canvas?

“Yeah... paint me white inside.”

And that’s all permission he needs, a few harsh thrusts and he cums with you, his cum shooting inside you while you gush around him, almost like it’s trying to push him out. But he stays inside you, his visit isn’t over quite yet, he doesn’t want to leave, not when he feels so connected with you.

You catch your breath, blinking your bleary eyes and see all of those red feathers slowly leave Keigo’s back. You don’t know how many there are, maybe two hundred or something like that, but you watch them leave one by one, almost as if they’re each being controlled individually. You think Keigo is the one that’s dismissing the feathers and you reach out towards them; you never got the chance to touch them.

Hands sliding down his back, you express a mild disgust over how sweaty Keigo is, “Ew... take a shower.”

“Only if you come with me.” Keigo chuckles pushing himself off you but wiping at your forehead as well. Geez, you hadn’t even realized you sweated too.

So the two of you stand under the warm shower spray, he lathers his shampoo and conditioner into your hair first, washing it out for you before you return the favor for him. You note how even more intimate this is compared to the sex before, looking up into his eyes and you give each other an endearing smile. The peak has been passed and now the acid will ease off, already things look a little less distorted and the intense distortions don’t feel like they used to when you first started.

“How are my eyes dove? Getting lost in them?” Keigo chuckles but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer, choosing to kiss you instead. “Did you mind that our first time was on acid?”

“No, it was good.” you tell him as you draw a single line on his collarbone with the tip of your finger. “I can’t wait to have regular, sober sex with you.”

“Hehe, I hope it compares well to my first performance.”

“I don’t know,” you singsong to him, “maybe you set the bar too high having first time on acid.”

“Well don’t say that now.”

The two of you laugh together, he playfully pushes your head but pulls you back in for another kiss. The water runs down both of your bodies and you pull back, looking down at the ground. Keigo thinks that you’re looking down at his cock and that you might be up for another round but you look back up at him and ask, “My feet are like a million miles away... have I always been this tall?”

You dry up together and change into clean clothes, returning to the easels and you’re surprised that the television still is playing music from the playlist. After so long without having your phone, you check the time to see that it’s well into two in the morning and it’s no wonder that you feel tired, not just from the sex but how late it was as well.

You curl up onto the couch while Keigo still works on his painting, the last thing you see were your sunset painting alongside the starry night one, the clouds shifting on one and the other still sparkles with shooting stars.

━━━━✧

“Ugh, I told you that they’d look like shit when the trip is over.”

“Don’t say that, they look fantastic.”

You hold up both of their canvases and each hand, looking deadpan at him with tired eyes. “This one looks like I just puked glitter on it and the only part of this one that is good are the clouds that you helped me paint!” you sigh out and look down at each of the paintings. You knew it, you weren’t an artist after all and you had thought that you did such a good job last night.

Keigo takes your starry night painting and brings it over to the sink, banging the edge of it gently a few times to shake off any glitter that didn’t dry on the paint before handing it back to you. “See, now it looks a little less like glitter puke and I have to tell you this dove, but you painted those clouds yourself.”

Huffing at him, you set down the starry night painting and look down at your sunset painting. “Keigo, I know I was on last night but you for sure helped me paint the clouds. I remember that part pretty clearly, don’t try to treat me like I’m a kid and say some bullshit to make me feel better.”

“I helped you get started but I saw that you picked it up on your own and you painted the rest of it yourself, I swear.”

“Keigo-”

He stops you with a soft call of your name and even though the two of you are tired as hell and feel disassociated from your own bodies and personalities, something tugs in your heart that way he says your name. “I’m serious, I helped you start making the clouds but you actually got the hang of it and watched you do it yourself. I told you the trip would tell you what to paint and you did it!”

You still look disbelieving at him, swearing that you thought you felt his hand help you paint last night. But then again, you also thought you saw one of his paintings of a balloon flying away too so maybe he might be telling the truth. It’s a little hard to discern what were your actions that actually happened versus what was in your mind. Much like the wings you thought he sprouted when the two of you had sex.

“Can you just show me yours? I fell asleep before I could see what you made.” He hands you his own canvas and you stare hard at it, looking back and forth between him and the painting in your hands. “Did you make another one last night?”

“Nope, I used that one canvas the entire night.”

“Didn’t you start off painting it with yellow and red? How did you end up with,” you turn the painting around to show him, “painting this?”

Delicate pinks and purples dotted just right to look like wisteria flowers and a big tree trunk in the very center of it. It just wasn’t fair that he was so good at conceptualizing these kinds of things. You have to wonder if he just had a natural talent for it or if it was something he honed over time. Either way, you know he didn’t get that art degree for nothing.

Keigo chuckles and sets aside his painting. “I looked at your sweater last night and thought I saw wisteria flowers sprouting out, I got my inspiration from you. Also you seemed really into the color purple last night so that helped too. Although you did also give me an idea last night too.” he takes your hand in his, pulling you close to him and reaches one hand underneath your shirt, his palm resting on the small of your back. “That whole ‘paint me thing’ you said yesterday... I was wondering if one day you’d let me paint on you?”

You tilt your head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Like... just let me paint on your body one day. I can get those body friendly paints and just make a picture on you.” Keigo explains with a sheepish smile coming onto his face despite how tired he looks. “It kinda turned on me on last night when you said you wanted me to paint you inside and I just thought ‘well what if I actually did?’ But not with my cum I mean, though I wouldn’t mind that either.“

The thought of laying down for Keigo while he does such a thing, it sounds quite intimate. You look into his eyes, his pupils still a little wide but it’s only a few more hours for the acid to exit your bodies. It was intense last night but you were glad to have done it with Keigo and even though you think the art you did last night is sort of crap now, you can’t deny that it was sort of fun to do it still.

Your paintings lay to the side, his own stupidly good wisteria painting sitting alongside your glittered starry night and sunset painting. Strange how your eyes perceived everything last night from elongated lengths, the dynamically changing colors you saw when you shut your eyes, you felt everything alive around rather than thinking of the furniture as mere static objects, the red wings and feather you swore you felt against your skin when Keigo fucked his cock into you, everything was beautiful and you couldn’t have asked for a better first time.

You’d like to do it again.

“Can I dove? Can I paint on you one day?”

“... Yeah, I’d like that.”

#takami keigo x reader #takami x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #hawks smut #tw drugs

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that--unusual-person · 4 years ago

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Through some kind of magic, the pillarmen have turned into anthropomorphic animals, how would they react?

Fantasy AU. Engage. im going all in.

Kars

- A concoction gone terribly right. Well, to him at least.

- It was a successful feat, Kars had managed to manifest bird-like properties from extracts of several different species.

- But, there was a problem. The potion had only some effect on his body, physically. He was aiming for the sight of a hawk, and the keen swimming power of a duck, and a resistance to cold weather like penguins. Hell he even got peacock dna. But he was very disappointed from the results of the potion only confusing certain parts of his body.

- He thinks the flamingo blood caused the change in the potion. Their high amount of spirulina in their bacteria must have made his body resist most of the transformation, allowing the cells to morph with half his body.

- The process of the evolution was interrupted making only his arms and legs morphed. His limbs became similar to the birds he used for his concoction.

- His arms first began to prick with sharp needle stabbing pain as darkly colored feathers began to grow from his shoulders to his finger tips morphing his bones and joints into wings that reflected a purple like hue. His legs shedded their skin, making a mess of gore on the ground as his body made huge flamingo-like legs, the shade of red the same as blood. The same soft feathers on his arms running from his knees to his waist, and the most embarrassing yet elegant part of him, his tail. A white peacock tail that flowed elegantly behind him.

- Kars took the results of the potions effect into his books and made some adjustments, but he cursed himself for jumping straight into testing without precaution, and with no antidote to reverse the effects. So he decides to wait and see if it wears out.

- Surprised but not impressed by the results, his wings leave no room for grabbing, and his legs can’t do much besides grab small animals, pens and paper fall from them. His tail, though, leaves for a good look on his person.

- But he can’t help but think of all the chicken jokes Esidisi will make out of him. And the mess he is going to make of the shedding feathers.

Esidisi

- Today, Kars wanted to test something rare, legendary even. He had gotten his hands on some scales and blood of a dragon. The ooze he made was far from a potion as he tested it on plants. The intensity of the mix would turn the organisms to ash in seconds, making the ‘potion’ a one way sip to death.

- But the concept of ‘don’t drink this’ and death don’t apply to Esidisi. He doesn’t even know how to spell it(ha. joke). Kars needed to go out to find an ingredient to make the ooze safer and more compatible to drink, leaving Esidisi in charge of watching over it to make sure it didn’t explode.

- While he was out, Esidisi thought what the harm is about trying just a small sip of it. He only heard about how dangerously hot it was, plus, he likes spicy things. But if the red to white burning at the bottom of the cauldron and the bubbling color of the ooze the same as lava wasn’t a good enough warning, he had to have a taste.

- The spoon itself burned at the touch of it as he dipped it in and his lips were scorched as he took a sip. He dropped the spoon as his mouth burned from the drop hitting his tongue. Shortly after he started to burn with an intensifying heat. Next his body started to reek of heat. As if a fever x10 was burning him from the inside out.

- His skin began to harden and crack in the form of scales from his chest to his arms and legs. His back gave way to wings beginning to form skin and hard bone, flexing and breaking off ash and asphalt. A scaly tail began to protrude from his rear, shaking off sparks of fire. His mouth began to pool with thick black smoke as he clawed at his chest heaving for fresh air from the heat.

- When the transformation is over, Kars comes back with what he needs but drops it on sight of Esidisi and his new form. Esidisi was thrilled about his new dragon-like form, his wings, claws, and chest glowing with new temperatures, but Kars, he was not as thrilled. Pretty soon Kars is lecturing Esidisi about how his newest creation could’ve killed him or worse, but seeing how successful it mutated his form, Kars tosses aside his ingredient to add caution to the mix and will continue to under-go the ooze the way it is.

Wamuu

- Another magical mishap, but this time, Wamuu has taken on the study of spells.

- He was practicing the art of transformation from one of Kars's books he, well, was ‘borrowing’. Totally didn’t take it from his studies without asking because he is such a good boy.

- Always on the drive to be just like his successors, he wants to be just as great and powerful and will take any risks to make it to where they are.

- Though he bit off more than he can chew when he underestimated the spells difficulty level and the classic Kars Warning NOT to use magic he forbids them until they are older. But Wamuu being Wamuu, has a thirst for power.

- At first, nothing happened. He didn’t feel any different aside from the stomach cramps and attack of growing pains in his legs, all in all he didn’t see any transformations. Figuring he just put himself up to the painful failure(literally) of the transformation he decided to take some medicine to get rid of his pain and sleep on it.

- He slept like a rock, and when he woke up, his bed was crushed and he was flat on the floor. Well, on his side, I don’t think a half human half horse can fall flat on their stomachs… maybe their backs? Who knows, more importantly, Wamuu has yet to fully process the situation.

- You know how horses freak out when they fall? Wamuu did just that, scrambling about in excitement and confusion at how his spell worked, except it didn’t make it up his whole body seeming to stop at the bottom of his torso. His horse half was a rich shade of copper colored fur with a short blonde tail, his legs have just as much muscle as he had before and his torso seemed to be thin yet just as muscular. Though, the spell was incomplete, never making it from his feet to his head to his realization, and to that info he cursed himself for not searching for a second one to complete the first(it’s one of those step 1 to step 2 except you skip 2 and go to 3 situations).

- But still, it’s fascinating to him and he can’t wait to do more. After this lecture from Kars, of course.

Santana

- Once again Santana is sneaking through everyone's things to complete this potion or question he needs.

- Same time as Wamuu, they both are rummaging through Kars’s quarters. Finding anything that they need, Santana going first then Wamuu following close behind being convinced that Santana will take the blame for sneaking in(he lied. he’s totally not going to hear it from Kars again).

- As Wamuu found the book he needed, Santana was still rummaging through Kars’s many mini self-made(Kars patented, Esidisi approves lol) potion ingredients he uses for curses. Just when he finds the one he needs, reaching in the far back, Wamuu whispers loudly behind him he’s ready to go but starts Santana by the sudden boom of his voice, causing his body to jump and his arm knock some of Kars’s potions off his shelf.

- They fall onto the floor at Santana's feet creating a cloud of purple and red gas that’s as heavy as smoke from a campfire. The gas reaches up to his head as he grabs the mini potion and backs out of the fog. Wamuu then grabbed him by the wrist and rushed out before their masters could investigate the noise.

- He began asking if Santana was fine, of course, he said don’t worry about it and walked off like nothing happened, so Wamuu let him be while he returned to studying his own magic. As Santana enters his room he suddenly starts to feel itchy on his head, scratching near his horns he sets the potion he took on his desk and begins to scratch with both hands. Suddenly the worst headache appeared, like his head got slammed into a wall.

- Head becoming itchy he begins to scratch until strands of hair are starting to fall out and the pain of his head starts to move to his horns. He’s felt his horns grow before but he never thought they could ever be this irritating. Looking into a nearby mirror he watches as his horns expand longer, more rounded and rugged, just goat horns. After his horns were finished, his legs started to itch. Resisting the urge to satisfy the itch he rips off his pants only to see black fur begin to grow on from his waist down to his… hooves? Since when did he get hooves? Then, when he thought it was all over, he felt his tailbone shift uncomfortably. Turning around in the mirror he watches his rear as a small fluffy tail sprouts from his butt.

- Remembering the gas he accidentally made while taking Kars’s potion makes him think, oh great, not this again. He isn’t very thrilled with his new form, never wanting to test this sort of magic. But, he can’t help but admire how good his horns look.

“I heard most potions taste like sea water.” - Von

#jjba #pillar men #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #ask #pillar men fantasy au #sketch extravaganza

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yououui · 4 years ago

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First of all, congrats for your 900 followers, you deserve them ❤🎉 related to the KF prompts, what about Kurogane being a warrior elf and Fay being a mage. They both have had very long lives and have been friends for a very long time too, but have little to no experience in romantic love for any reason you wish lol. (They have experienced family love, love for their friends and other types of love though) and Kurogane accidentally says something that makes Fay's heart skip a beat and blush. Kurogane doesn't notice what he says until he sees Fay 😂 what happens next is up to you 😊

Quiet footsteps, expertly avoiding any twigs or dry leaves. Arrow nocked, bow raised, he gives one quiet breath to steady himself as he aims for the deer and—

“Hyuu~ what good form!”

The deer’s ears perk up and it promptly dashes away. Kurogane lowers his bow and looks above him into the foliage of the forest with a scowl and a pounding in his temple. “Oi,” He snaps as he returns the arrow to its quiver and the bow to its place on his back. “Get down here so I can beat you up properly.”

Without even a rustle in the leaves, pale silks and wispy hair appear above Kurogane. Hanging upside down, his knees hooked over a branch, Fai grins happily at Kurogane without a single care for the threat just thrown at him. The hair that usually frames his face is hanging down, exposing his pale forehead, the rest of it pulled up to the top of his head and secured with a ribbon to match his expensive robes. Taking the bait hanging in front of him like a rope, Kurogane grasps the wavy golden locks and gives a tug.

Fai whines and waves his hands around his head to swat Kurogane away. “Hey, that hurts!” The mage pouts.

Kurogane only scoffs. “Lucky I don’t do more to you. You cost me my hunt, you annoying little fae.” He reaches to flick at pale, pointed ears, but Fai pulls away before he can.

Fai weightlessly falls from the trees and lands silently on his feet, as graceful as a cat, and shrugs casually. “You’ll find another deer to slay. Come, I have something much more exciting to show you!” He has an eager look on his face, his bright blue eyes sparkling under the beams of sunlight spilling through the leaves.

Kurogane sighs but follows regardless. He’s followed after Fai and given in to his antics since they were children, though why, he never quite knew. Fai was his oldest and, really, only friend. He’d go anywhere with him, even if he complained the entire time.

“Don’t you have some lessons to be in?” Kurogane asks as they walk through the quiet forest.

“Don’t you?” Fai counters. He waves a hand nonchalantly. “I’m finished for the day! I practiced some spells, worked on some potions, and slipped away as soon as I was dismissed. I’m all yours for the day!”

“Mm.” Kurogane hums. “Until someone comes looking for you. Remember what happened last time their favorite pupil disappeared for too long?”

“Then I’ll just have to make sure I pick a better hiding place,” Fai winks with a charming smile.

Fai is quite possibly the most powerful elven mage in their entire kingdom and has been doted on since he was a small child and his powers first began presenting themselves. With so few mages remaining of their kind, any mage born is seen treated as royalty, but Fai is extremely special.

By comparison to him, Kurogane is terribly average. A warrior elf, one in a thousand— though he is the strongest of them all, at least he has that to brag about. But with just one look, one could see how different the two of them were; Fai, wearing his gifted silks and pretty pendents, and Kurogane in a beige tunic with a bow on his back and a sword at his hip.

And yet, the two became quick friends as children. They were allowed to play together back then, when they were too young to begin their training. But by the time their lessons started, they were expected to understand that they were not the same, that two elves of drastically different lineage could never be seen at the same level. And so, they were no longer given permission to spend their time together. And Fai especially was forbidden from frolicking around freely and instead was often treated like fragile glass.

But Fai, being Fai, found a way. He’d sneak away and drag Kurogane along with him so the two could play, or hunt, or train, or just lounge around. No matter how many punishments it led to when they were caught, he never stopped, and neither did Kurogane.

Kurogane wonders, as he sees dirt cling to the bottom of Fai’s flowing robes, how much trouble he’ll get in today when he’s inevitably caught.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Kurogane asks eventually.

“Patience is a virtue, Kuro-tan,” Is Fai’s response. “We’re almost there, and then you will see that it’s worth the wait.”

Kurogane grumbles a quiet complaint. After a little while more, they eventually break through the line of trees, which opens to a wide clearing surrounded by the forest on each side. Without the leaves to act as shade, the sun shines brightly over a field full of pale purple flowers, petals drifting lazily in the breeze and honeybees buzzing around.

Fai lifts his arms to gesture grandly to the field. “Here it is! Isn’t it amazing?”

“It’s... fine, I suppose,” Kurogane shrugs. He’s never been much of a flower person.

Fai, however, looks at Kurogane like he’s just said something horribly offensive. “Fine? It’s fine? What have you seen that could possibly be any more beautiful than this?”

“Honestly?” Kurogane glances at the mage. “You.”

He says it easily because, well, it’s true. It’s not like it’s only Kurogane that thinks so—everyone is enamored by Fai’s looks. Kurogane is certain the mage must have some ancient fae blood flowing in this veins; he can’t find any other reason for Fai’s almost other-worldly beauty. Blue eyes that shimmer like gems, fair skin that never blemishes, hair like threaded gold that reflects silver under the moonlight. Even Kurogane, who never much cares about things like physical appearances, knows that Fai is quite possibly the most beautiful creature on the planet.

Kurogane doesn’t think anything of the compliment. Not until he peers at Fai again and sees that his cheeks have gone bright red. Even the tips of his pointed ears are pink. Kurogane furrows his brows and leans in closer to the mage to get a better look at him; Fai’s back bows to lean away from him.

“Oi. What’s wrong?” Kurogane asks as he reaches out to touch Fai’s forehead. “You look ill.”

“What?” Fai squeaks and leaps back from Kurogane’s touch like a skittish animal. “I’m fine!”

Kurogane crosses his arms over his chest and frowns at the mage. “Your face is all red.”

Fai places a hand on his cheek and looks away. “Yes, well. I suppose. I’m just surprised that Kuro-pan would say such a thing.”

Kurogane blinks at the blushing elf. Is Fai embarrassed? There’s no way he’s bashful; Kurogane knows that Fai knows how pretty he is. “Thought you’d be used to it by now,” Kurogane tells him. “You get called beautiful ten times a day.”

“This is... different,” Fai tells him.

“...Why?” Kurogane asks.

“I... I don’t know, really,” Fai responds, turning away slightly to look at the flowers. “But for some reason, hearing you say it has me feeling rather...” He stops suddenly, his lips pressing into a tight, straight line as his cheeks redden even further.

He gulps and glances at Kurogane, then abruptly looks away again. Kurogane scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and looks at the flowers as well. “Sorry. Won’t do it again,” He murmurs.

“No,” Fai responds immediately. “You... You can say it again. If you want to.”

Kurogane regards the mage. “...Okay then,” He says quietly.

Fai swallows and, very stiffly, says, “...Kuro-pan is rather beautiful, too.”

Kurogane feels his own face heat up and he can only hope that it isn’t as apparent on his bronzed skin as it is on Fai’s. “H-Huh? What the hell are you saying, you idiot?!” He stammers.

Fai looks at him with a soft smile, not one of teasing, but of honesty. Kurogane feels something swoop down in his stomach and his ears get hot. Is this what Fai had just felt, as well? He’s never experienced such a thing in his long life, but his heart is beating wildly and he finds it difficult to look away from those pretty eyes, reflecting the warmth of the setting sun.

Eventually though, Kurogane pulls his eyes away from Fai and scowls at the flowers. “The hell are you staring at me for?” He asks. “Didn’t you want to come to look at the flowers?”

Fai laughs quietly and nods. “Yes, you’re right. I did come all the way out here to admire the beauty.”

Kurogane glances at Fai again and finds that Fai, his face still flushed, is still looking at him.

Kurogane finds it hard to look away, too.

#kurofai #kinda wanna write a whole story about this...

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themilky-way · 5 years ago

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as the hours pass {loki odinson}

gif credit: littlemisssyreid

pairing: loki odinson x fem!reader (might be considered gender neutral, though)

summary: he afraid of what he feels, so he does the only the thing he knows how to do: lie. based on this ask.

warnings: super shitty angst lol cuz it was 9 pm and my brain cells were FRIED. i think that’s it?? fluff at the end tho so we good

author’s note: this took me a whole mf week to write which isn’t that bad but i have no time now and it’s kinda scary. yolo tho lol

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when tony had initially proposed a weekly movie night for the entire team, not a single person would’ve imagined anything like this. a large projector had taken the place of the regular flatscreen television, consequently lining up in all the four corners of the penthouse windows. couches and reclining chairs compiled in a large circle instead of being adequately spread out amongst the common room, and they’d all been filled by at least one avenger. to those wishing to participate, jobs and duties had been assigned the week prior, the list ranging from making popcorn to dimming the lights. it was organized-sophisticated, in a way-how it had all been brought about, and to say the majority of the residents living in tony’s multi billionaire penthouse were surprised was quite the understatement.

over the course of a few weeks, everything began falling into place. reminders didn’t need to be set anymore, and the designated tasks weren’t viewed as chores. natasha made sure to pop three full bags of delicious kernels- ensuring thor’s bowl had just enough butter to lick his fingers clean when he finished-while steve arranged a variety of pillows and blankets around the seating space. soon enough, fading shades of purple would ignite the obscurity of the living room-all due to the led lights binded to the borders of its ceiling-and either a horror or comedy film would commence.

in such a manner, your spot could always be found on the same peculiar couch, next to the same peculiar individual. god, at that. to literally go to hell and back, to get placed in a home that wasn’t his home with people who wanted his head wasn’t particularly an easy life to lead. he wasn’t a man of sentiment, either, nor one who engaged in communal activities, so you took your part as a good samaritan and kept him company. the seat next to loki had been unreserved, with not even thor to take its place, and you shuffled away from a very frightened wanda to settle beside him. he'd been neutral, annoyed perhaps. if a stranger came to sit next to you out of the blue, wouldn’t you be, too?

“mind if i sit here?” a mild pause signaled a response, and the shrug of his shoulders gave it away. “i’m not really enjoying the movie, and the space looked kinda cozy,” you added.

after you had thoroughly felt the soft cushion of the seat and all its comfort, it was rather difficult to stray away from it. every friday evening, the striped bedding of the couch awaited your presence, and a pillow of an identical design lay by the armrest. loki always got there first, a bowl of ice containing two ice cream bars in his grasp, and if the belief that he had ever been remotely inconsiderate damaged your reasoning, the chocolate chip cookie he gifted you at the start of every night proved you wrong.

if loki truly had to be honest with himself-his father, if he was peering down from above-the companionship you bestowed upon him didn’t upset him as he presumed it would. he half-expected his cold and antisocial nature to speak for itself, to grab hold of the kindness of your heart, crush it, and scatter its pieces so your blind hands would have to search aimlessly for them. for him, the opportunity would’ve been so effortless, so relieving in its own wicked sense, but you had already known that from the minute the tips of your sock-clad toes had walked right up to his. your words had been honey to him, simple yet profoundly eloquent that had dripped away every vowel on his tongue. the warmth that encircled you caromed over to him, and then his icy fingers became regular fingers, and his wintry complexion no longer overpowered the person he strived to be.

the thought alone of developing a kinship alarmed the presumably mischievous man, and when time, the most rewarding elements of his beloved universe, presented him with such a miraculous creature, he went into a comatose. the object of his interest was no longer an object, it was a person, an individual that appeared to envelop his nonexistent grace as if they depended on it. so his beautiful, virulent mind, as plentiful of wisdom as it was, conceived what it regarded to be the only correct answer.

the seconds of long anticipated hours grew legs, and urged fragments of minutes to run off. solitude embraced the area loki used to adore being in, and his absence planted a seed of confusion within the person always seated beside him. the following nights were mindless for you, even when wanda had selected your favorite films to view, your headspace drifting off to the god who wasn’t watching it with you. interactions between your team lessened. refusing a handful of thor’s popcorn became a habit, and although he questioned you about it, he never brought it up again. then, a month flew by before you could cognitively process it. loki’s eyes hardly ever witnessed daylight now, or you for that matter. more often than not, his ear perked up at the soft squeaks of sneakers before their shadow halted in front of his door. the air in his lungs would almost escape from him entirely, lips pursed so tightly he felt them turn white, before mere seconds later distorted voices trailed your feet away from the barrier that separated him from you. foolish, he’d been foolish to deceive you so childishly. what could he possibly tell you now, that wouldn’t lead you to scurry away from him?

tonight, the best remedy to get some rest was to fix some tea. a good read seemed suitable enough, too, so a copy of The Scarlet Letter decorated your pillow. you trusted your weary legs to navigate you to the kitchen while your brain busied in forming unrealistic scenarios, as silly as it sounds, and you were doing fine and dandy until a conversation reeled you back in. an all too familiar voice-one you hadn’t heard in so long-was speaking, ranting, about things that bothered him? yeah, that was it.

it was wrong to what you did at that moment, your dear mother had taught you better than this, but the never ending words spewing from loki’s mouth had glued the soles of your feet to the chilling tiles.

a heartbeat shriveled to nothing, a weighty ache engulfing it in all its mighty glory, and everything you ever came to know became deception. “...ridiculous! i’ll tell you one thing, brother, and that is that they’re absurd for thinking i’m better.”

a booming retort-thor’s-defended you. “you’re ridiculous. they’re good to you and you’re going to throw it away because you’re afraid?” he neatly placed his mug on the counter before his firm hand landed on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed in reassurance. “if you keep pushing people away, you’ll outlive centuries-worth of joy.” loki flicked it away. “do they truly matter to you? enough for you to stop hurting them?”

the wall pressing into your shoulder obscured the visual of loki nodding his head. the tea you craved for now sounded disgusting, and no matter how hard you blinked your eyes, a puddle threatened to hover over them. you began toying with the sleeves of your sweater, hating the emerald shade you chose for it, and your head drooped down to focus on its marbled designs. odd shapes helped center your emotions, too much that you missed a figure passing by the entry.

did you jump? yes. did loki jump? also yes.

“what-why are you-why are you standing there?” his voice was shaky, concerned. he looked at your figure over once, his nervous glare lingering a little too closely at the pigment of your shirt, before he focused on you. it was hard for him to miss your anguish. the question his brother had previously asked him looped in his head, and by odin yes-yes, you mattered to him.

“did you hear what i said?” he gulped. “all of it?”

your pupils were fully dilated, mouth inconceivably dry, so you muttered a tiny “yeah.”

“it’s alright, though. i’m not-i’m not mad, or sad, or whatever. i get it.” with enough strength, you pushed your body away from where you’d been cornered and started your leave. a tightening on your wrist stopped you.

“please don’t go.” loki never begged, and he always trusted his ego to prevent him from doing it, but he’d inflicted grief on his most treasured midgardian, and he’d have to remedy that. “please.”

“loki, hey it’s alright. i’ll leave you alone if that’s what you need.” he held you tighter before pulling your palm up to meet his chest. “what are you-look, i’m sorry-”

“you’re sorry?” he cut you off. “i’m sorry, don’t you see what you do to me?” the pad of one of his own hands moved to cover the back of yours to push it further onto his covered heart. it was beating faster than godly possible. if he were anyone else, maybe he was nearing a heart attack. “i do believe you’re the first one to do that.”

you ceased touching him before beginning to speak, but he knew your apologies, your questions, before they even escaped your lips. he fumbled on his words for some time, thorough confessions of his feelings never came as easily as he hoped, but he managed to get the point across. his obsidian, curly locks drizzling over his tiresome face distracted you, and his enticing features, his slurred attempts to achieve your forgiveness forced a tiny grin onto your mouth.

“it’s okay, honey,” you extended a hand outward in greeting. “let’s just start over, yeah?”

he choked on a breath at the name, and then two clammy hands melded into one, and everything was alright for once. “i’m loki, and the pleasure’s all mine, darling.”

#loki x reader #loki angst #loki fluff #loki odinson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki odinson fanfiction #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fanfiction #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #my writing!

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obxlife · 5 years ago

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Parent’s Pressures (Rafe x Reader)

A/N: Another Rafe fic!! I swear Rafe suddenly became everyone's favorite in the span of like a week, and I guess it goes to show how much people just love boys who have serious problems lol.

Pairing: Rafe x Reader

Word count: 3,316

Request: I love a good Midsummers fic!! Rafe and Y/N both show up to Midsummers without dates and eventually find their way to each other and end up hanging out for the rest of the night 🥺

Summary: Tired of your parents pressuring you, you decide to completely disregard them at Midsummers. You show up without your date (which they had chosen), with a dress that was definitely not what they had wanted (because the dress your mother gave you just made you seem like a fat plum), and without the hairstyle they had planned (and spent a lot of money for the hairstylist to do). Mad at your parents, you take the opportunity which is handed o you on a silver platter. Rafe Cameron. Why? Oh, because the Camerons were the business enemies of your parents.

Warnings: Underage drinking, swearing, mentions of drugs.

PARENT’S PRESSURES

“Mom!” you screeched out once the hairstylist (was her name Pauline?) turned you towards the mirror.

Your mother barged into your room, smiling at the work the stylist had done. Trying to be polite, you forced a smile until your mother was done speaking with her, and she had left the room. In her hands were three one-hundred-dollar bills.

Your mother turned to look at you through the mirror. Your smile had dropped. Now, a scowl (that your mother was sure you had practiced for years) was adorning your face.

“Don’t you look lovely?” she beamed, trying to predict what you were about to say.

“No,” you deadpanned. “My hair looks like a tower.”

And it was true. Somehow, the hairstylist had managed to make your hair stand up upon your head, adding at least half a foot to your height. Swiveling around to stare at your mother accusingly, you noticed how stiff and tight your hair felt.

“Are you trying to ruin my life?” you asked her, completely serious. You were almost sure she was. “I’m going to be the laughing stock of the party!”

Your mother was already angry at your attitude. “No, I am not trying to ruin your life. I’m just trying to make you live up to your reputation. You are a Y/L/N after all.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms across your chest, and looking towards the mirror. Trying to rile her up, you said, “Well, sometimes I wish I was a Maybank than a Y/L/N.”

Your mother gasped. “How dare you compare yourself to that boy that cleans out our boat?”

You laughed at her reaction. You didn’t really know him, but you only pressed further with the subject. “Who? JJ?”

Your mother’s offended mask was not slipping off as she turned to leave your room. However, stopping at the door she said, “Put on your dress. You’re already late.”

You imitated her under your breath. She turned to leave before entering your room once more, this time, however, she only popped her head in. “Your father and I will be leaving right now. Take your car to the country club, sweetie. Oh, and please pick up your date. He is a ravishing young man! And don’t you dare to anything tonight that will embarrass us. After all, you are the future face of the company.”

And, finally, with that, she left, throwing kisses over her shoulder. As if I actually wanted her kisses, you thought.

You rose from your chair and turned to the hanger that was placed at the far end of your room. There was a fabric hanging there, and the color almost made you want to vomit.

It wasn’t an ugly color per se, but it was the fact that your mother had picked it out to match her dress that bothered you. Why couldn’t you go wearing a color that actually suited you? Why did everything have to be about her and the company?

Sighing you tried the dress on and looked into your vanity mirror.

You looked hideous. The color was an ugly shade of purple that reminded you of a plum, and the mesh of the dress made it flare out around your legs, making you looked large. The neckline was up to your throat and you were sure if you tried to breathe in a little more air the dress would constrict you. Also, it was very itchy.

From downstairs you heard your parents close the door, assuming they had left. Almost at once, you tore your dress off your body and took all of the bobby pins from out your hair.

You speeded into your bathroom and turned on the shower, hopping in and getting rid of all of the makeup and hair products that had been splattered on you.

In a record time of five minutes and thirty-eight seconds, you hopped out. Turning towards your vanity you thought, Oh, mom, haven’t you learned? I always do everything to embarrass you.

You were finally cracking under your parent’s pressures, and you were going to ruin their night.

Grabbing some eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner, you quickly completed the most simple look possible. Your mother had paid for her makeup artist to give you a smokey eye (which you thought looked hideous as it was colored purple just like your dress and looked like bruises). Now you looked a lot better.

Then, you grabbed onto your hairdryer and began to work on your hair. You decided to leave it in its natural state no curling, no straightening. You knew this would piss off your mother because of her many comments about how ugly your hair was and how unfortunate it was that you hadn’t gotten hers.

When it was dry enough, you turned towards your closet, stepping over the plum dress on the floor. You looked around, deciding that the perfect way to ruin your mother’s night even further was to show up in dress pants. Selecting a navy blue one from your hanger, you moved towards your tops. You knew exactly which one you wanted.

Last year, you had bought an elegant party top that your mother had hated and had forced you to take off. It was perfect for tonight.

The white top showed off a little of your midriff, and you loved it. This was for sure going to make your mom even madder.

Staring at yourself in the vanity mirror, you couldn’t help but admire your work. The top contrasted against your skin beautifully, and the pants made your butt look incredible. Your hair was messy, but not in a way that seemed undone. Your face looked clear and natural, exactly what your mother would never want.

Tonight was about you, you had decided. You were tired of always fitting into the mold your parents had planned out for you, tired of always trying to be the perfect child.

Grabbing your phone, you noticed your mother had sent you some texts, which you read while grabbing a few other things you would need for the party.

Mom: You have to pick up your date! It’s Mark Sullivan’s son!

Mom: Here’s his address and contact!

Below her text was, in fact, Brody Sullivan’s number and address. You groaned out loud.

You hated Brody. He was an absolute creep that had been trying to get with you for the past three years. He thought that making sexual jokes around you was considered flirting, and he had, more than once, insulted you in a joking matter (which you did not take as a joke). He was annoying, and you remembered countless parties where he had followed you around all night, placing a hand around your waist and trying to inconspicuously touch your butt.

I am not picking that prick up, you decided once you headed towards your car.

When you arrived at the country club, you abandoned your car and passed the keys onto the valet, who took your place behind the wheel and drove off.

You walked up the steps of the country club’s big house and squinted at the sun that was setting, its rays landing right onto your eyes.

Opening the door, you stepped in, hearing gasps from many people around you. You could only smirk.

“Y/N Y/L/N? Wearing pants? Oh, her mother will have a fit!”

“And did you see how bare her face seemed to be? That will most definitely bring her mother to her end!”

Giggling under your breath, you headed directly towards the garden, where you were sure your mother was. All you wanted to do was see her sour face.

You passed by the bar first, picking up a glass of whatever alcohol you deemed strong enough (vodka, for now), and stepped into the fairy-light lit garden.

Your mother stood at its end, her hand wrapped around your father, as she spoke on the phone with someone. You were almost positive it was Mark Sullivan stating that Brody was yet to be picked up.

Your mother’s eyes were frantically shooting left and right as she was, most probably, trying to come up with an explanation that would please Mark. When she finally turned off her phone, huffing, she turned towards you.

You smirked once again, tipping the glass towards her in a form of salute, as her eyes raked down your body. Fume was coming out of her nostrils and ears as she stalked up towards you and tugged you to a place where no one would be able to hear her scold you. God knew she wanted to keep up the image of a perfect family.

“What did you do?” she asked you, desperation in her tone. “You’re ruining everything!”

“What exactly am I ruining, mom?” you wondered. “The perfect princess image you made me wear?”

She sighed, pressing a hand onto her forehead and looking up at the sky. “Your reputation.”

You scoffed, glaring at her. “It’s a good thing I don’t really care about it, then.”

Your mother wanted to kill you. Or at least that was what it seemed she wanted to do by the look on her face. “Well, you are ruining it for your father and I. We were about to close a business deal with someone important before you stumbled in here dressed like this and drinking whatever alcohol that is!”

“And?” you questioned. “It’s not like they won’t sign the deal because of me.”

“Don’t you get it?” she asked you, rushed and desperate once again. “The company is your future! If we signed this deal, it was going to be yours to take over! And we were finally going to be better than the Camerons!”

Now you were mad. “I don’t care about the Camerons!” you nearly screamed out. “And can’t you see that the company is clearly not what I want for my future?”

“What?” she questioned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s what you want!”

You shook your head. “No, mom, it’s not. Why can’t you see that?”

Your mother’s face turned hard again (you had lost count how many times she had frowned in the past argument).

“Well, even if it isn’t what you want, it’ll be what you get.”

You scoffed and tried to turn away.

“And you better go home and put the dress I bought you on!”

You gave her a blank look before saying, “No.”

Your mother sighed. “Well then, at least mingle with some of the people your father wants you to meet. They’re all very powerful people and we will finally be able to beat the Camerons!”

You groaned before shouting over your shoulder, “Not happening. And stop talking about the Camerons!”

With that, you left your mother standing alone on the porch.

You turned the corner and almost bumped into a large body. He was tall and buff, a lot bigger than you even with your heels. He grabbed onto your arms to keep you from falling and spilling your drink. Looking up you stared into the most entrancing pair of green eyes you had ever seen, and looked down to the softest smile that could ever be produced.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just heading towards the door to get inside.”

You smirked, recognizing the person in front of you. You still had one more way to ruin your mother’s night. And he was standing right in front of you. Rafe. Rafe Cameron.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you said, a smile taking over your lips. “I was heading inside as well.”

“Great!” he replied. “Let’s go in, then.”

With that, he took your hand and led you to the bar where he ordered a glass of whiskey. Turning towards you he said, “Aren’t you Y/N Y/L/N?”

You smiled a little and looked down. “Yeah, that’s me.”

He stretched his hand out. “Well, I’m Rafe. And from what I understand, our parents don’t get along at all.”

You laughed at this. “Yeah, well, I’m not much like my parents,” you stated. You hated being compared to them.

“Then it’s good I’m not much like my parents either.”

Now you actually, truly, laughed, and Rafe joined you. After sobering up, he asked you, “Didn’t you stand up Brody Sullivan tonight?”

You nodded softly, looking down at the glass in your hands. “Yeah, yeah,” you confirmed.

He smirked, “Well, that’s kind of badass. That dude’s a creep.”

You looked up at Rafe’s face again, noticing how his eyes were completely trained on you. You smiled.

“Does this mean you don’t have a date?”

You nodded, biting your lower lip between your teeth.

“Well, if that’s the case, would you like to dance?”

You placed your cup on the bar and put your hand through his. He drifted towards the dance floor outside, not letting go of your hand until you were face to face with each other.

Dancing with him was fun. More fun than anything you had done in years. He was thinking the same thing.

He thought you were pretty ever since he knew about your existence. The day his father had mentioned to Rafe that the Y/L/N were the Camerons enemies and that you were not to be talked to, he had noticed you.

Of course, you all went to the same school. You were a year younger than him, but everyone in the Kook community knew everyone, which meant it was easy to determine that you were Y/N Y/L/N.

The day he saw you on the playground he thought you were cute. However, he had never approached you under his father’s orders.

As the years went on, he had a strange longing to meet you, but was unsure of how to do so. How to present himself, how to approach you.

And then, like a blessing, you had bumped into him tonight. And as he held onto your arms, about to yell at you about watching where you were going, he noticed it was you. And his heart had softened.

Rafe had already assessed your outfit the minute you had walked into the country club, but seeing you up close was different. He hadn’t noticed that your navy pants had a small design in them, or that your beautiful top showed a little bit of skin. He hadn’t noticed that you were, in fact, wearing a bit of makeup, or that your hair looked more natural and free than ever.

He did notice it all now, dancing around with you. Joking around with you.

Both you and Rafe could feel your parent’s stares on your backs, but you enjoyed it gladly. You were having so much fun with him that now you only wanted to hang out with him, not necessarily to piss your mother off, but more as a way to just be with him.

Drink after drink after drink you downed together, the night only continued to stretch on and the smiles on your faces never seemed to fade. Not even when a boy that was your age had approached Rafe and whispered in his ear, “You got any coke?”

Rafe was so entranced with you he had no intention of leaving you to do drugs. So he shook his head and continued to move around the party with you. And anyway, you gave him the same feelings cocaine did. No, scratch that, the feeling you gave him was better.

When you both grew tired of moving around so much you took a seat at an empty table.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight,” you confessed to him. He smiled at that. He felt the same way.

“Me too. We should go out together after this,” he suggested nervously, not knowing how you would reply.

You blushed lightly and smiled at the words that had brushed past his lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Rafe smiled back and took your hand in his before tugging it slightly. You looked up at him, noticing that he was cocking his head towards the beach. “Let’s take a walk.”

You nodded, taking your heels off and discarding them under the table. You grabbed onto his hand and followed his strong steps. Once you were near the water you began to walk up and down the beach, conversation flowing through Rafe and you.

All of a sudden a large wave crashed onto the shore and enveloped your feet beneath its waters. It was cold, but your body was hot and the difference in temperature relaxed you.

Shocked at the contact you had shrieked, but then you embraced the water and stayed there. Rafe had managed to back away from the ocean.

“Hey,” he called out. “Get back here! It must be so cold!”

You only laughed. “No, it feels great!”

Watching you jump around the water and dancing to the music that could be heard from the party, Rafe had the urge to join you. He struggled to take his shoes and socks off and then ran to join you. He surprised you by throwing you over his strong shoulder causing you to let out a small shout and a boisterous laugh. Giggling together, you spent some while messing around in the water, splashing each other and laughing at the other’s antics.

Growing tired you headed back onto the beach, sitting down on the sand. You lay back, feeling the sand on your back and through your fingers as you stared at the sky.

“Did you know,” you spoke out breaking the silence, “that everything spins around the North Star?”

He laughed before laying next to you and putting an arm around your shoulder. He pressed you into him, and you gladly accepted his warmth.

“That sounds like something Sarah would know,” he replied, mentioning hi younger sister.

“Then she’s a smart girl.”

Rafe nodded before pointing towards the stars himself. “Do you see that star? The one that is sort of flashing?”

You nodded. “The one that has a bit of a red tint to it?”

Rafe nodded this time. “That’s Mars. When I was younger I imagined myself being the first astronaut to reach there.”

You laughed, imagining a small, blond, green-eyed boy, with a helmet on his head and looking up at the stars.

“That’s cute,” you mentioned. Both of the smiles that had been etched on your faces disappeared as you both turned towards each other. Staring into the depths of Rafe’s eyes made you dizzy, and butterflies - no, birds - erupted in your stomach.

Your faces were only separated by an inch, and you decided that you couldn’t deal with this tension. You closed the space between your lips.

Fireworks erupted. Not only inside of your stomach but in the sky above you as well. Pulling away from Rafe you looked up into the sky. The country club had really gone all out this year. Green and golden and red and blue lit up the sky in a way that was supposed to be captivating. However, you and Rafe were more captivated by each other. Smiling at him, you pressed your lips to his once again.

They were soft and gentle, and you couldn’t remember when was the last time someone had kissed you this way. Or if someone had ever kissed you that way.

His hands moved to your waist and squeezed lightly, and yours remained latched around his neck and playing with his hair. Your exposed skin was covered with goosebumps as he continued to kiss you.

Pulling out for air, you pressed your foreheads together. Your gleaming faces were almost as bright as the fireworks above you.

“Hey,” you said to him.

“Hey,” he answered back. Then he pulled you to him again and kissed you.

You stayed at the beach, attached by your lips, long after the firework show in the sky had ended. But it didn’t matter. You had your own firework show going on inside you.

#outer banks #obx #obx netflix #rafe cameron #drew starkey

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enternalempires · 5 years ago

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Those Eyes

This is a Ladynoir/Adrienette fic. It has switched Miraculous and a reveal and Marinette purring, lol. Lots of fluff. Hope you enjoy! Haven’t figured out how to use links yet but my Ao3 username is the same!

We all know that Plagg with Marinette would be chaotic as all hell, like she’d mention a very very bad course of action that would have us all going ‘second-hand embarrassment, no!!’ but that sarcastic little shit of a Kwami would be like, “Yes!! Do it!!!” because like, after eons of being alive and literally killing the dinos off along with various other disasters you just learn to not care anymore. And Adrien with Tikki would be chaotic in a different way. They’d be so?? Productive??? Like, they’d agree on so much and just vibe that it would be pure sunshine magic. Like, there’s a reason why they got the humans that they did.

Marinette shrieked, scrambling past a car that was picked up and thrown in her direction— successfully dodging any debris and sharp objects left over from the Akumas wake.

At eighteen years old, she knew better than to take off her earrings.

She knew she shouldn’t have, even if it was Adrien Agreste who asked her to change them out, promising with his life (as she made him do) that they would be safe in his bag. She knew that having a photo shoot with him and she in her original MDC designs shouldn’t have made her heart flutter but it did.

They were modeling together.

God, if the fifteen-year-old her could’ve predicted this, she would’ve melted in her spot.

But she didn’t.

And she also didn’t predict that Hawkmoth would choose absolutely the worst time to put an Akuma out into the streets of Paris, but she wasn’t surprised. Her luck as Ladybug never passed over into her life as Marinette— ruler of clumsiness and bad decisions.

Marinette knew she needed to get back to Tikki, she needed to find her earrings and quickly put them on.

She just didn’t expect to find the car that Adrien’s bag had been in to be completely destroyed with its contents spewed around the street.

Oh, she was screwed.

“Tikki,” She hissed, getting onto her knees and ignoring the glass that stuck into her palms as she shifted through all the now unrecognizable car’s contents. “Tikki, where are you?”

“Oh, this is golden,” A voice cackled from behind her and Marinette whipped around— coming face to face with a tiny black Kwami with glowing green eyes and a long tail. She blinked once, twice, and then noticed the bright silver, almost white ring he was carrying. “You’re Sugercube’s babybug, huh? Oh, loverboy is going to get a kick out of this.”

She gaped, unsure about how to continue.

“Do you have cheese?” He asked, scowling when she shook her head. “Great. What use are you then?”

“Uh…”

This was Chat Noir’s Kwami?

He seemed… completely opposite of Tikki.

“Well, aren’t you going to torture me now?” He asked, floating up to her face— his sardonic tone deepening as he lazily landed in Marinette’s palms as soon as she offered them up to him. “I’m Plagg, by the way. Why did you take the earrings off?”

“Urm, I’m Marinette and Tikki didn’t want me to but I kinda… I had this photoshoot thing that I had to switch them out for. So I did.”

“Oo! A rule breaker! I like you. My human is a goodie-goodie, unless it comes to you. He’s so in love that it’s revolting.”

“Not good at the emotional stuff, huh?”

“Nah, cheese is my love.”

“Oh,” Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Not the tiny goddess that calls you Stinky Socks?”

Giving her an eyeroll, Plagg huffed out, “Can you just say ‘claws out’ already?”

“Is there anything I need to know regarding Chat’s powers?”

“Be careful when you’re jumping around and moving, it’ll look a bit different than usual and you’ll be faster.” His voice was so bored that she couldn’t help but to giggle. “I’m awesome, so you’ll also be able to hear a lot better and see in the dark. Also, people will smell.”

“Excuse me?” Marinette blinked. “Smell?”

“Yep.” The black cat yawned exaggeratingly. “Loverboy says you smell good or whatever. Also, don’t ruin everything.”

For whatever reason, that made her cheeks flush and Plagg laughed, his cackle creating goosebumps to go over her skin.

He felt powerful— like destruction and death and sadness. He felt like he could destroy the whole world, like he could send it into a proverbial darkness, and Marinette was reminded of Paris drowned in water, and the moon cracked in half in the sky.

It was terrifying.

Plagg was terrifying.

Tikki felt light, like home.

Like life and warmth and creation and happiness. Her power was intimidating, it was skin-tight and heavy and weighed down her shoulders with a burden she never wanted but bore anyways.

Marinette wondered how his magic would feel after she transformed and looked around. The destruction still damaged around her, but she was hidden by three toppled over cars and couldn't see anyone through the cracks.

“Plagg,” She slipped the ring onto her middle finger, watching as it turned smaller and shone in a soft sky blue color. “Claws out!”

The power that overwhelmed her made her feel unbalanced, her head swarming like she was twenty feet underwater, the pressure pounding around her in all directions.

Being Ladybug felt suffocating sometimes. It felt like responsibility and trauma walked beside her every day.

But wearing the Black Cat Miraculous?

That felt like drowning.

Like devastation was clinging to her.

How did her kitty deal with this? With feeling demolition wreck havoc through his veins on an almost daily basis?

Ladybug— or well, she couldn’t be ladybug anymore— sucked in a harsh breath and looked around. The world was just… in ruins around her but it was more vivid than anything she experienced. The sun shone on everything brighter, the shadows almost nonexistent and the details— god, she was starting to see why Chat stared so much.

Taking her baton into her hands, the young heroine saw that the silver was the same color that the ring had turned into, a soft sky blue, and noted that in the light it glowed with an azure flicker.

Strange.

Turning around with a flinch as a loud boom followed by multiple screams rang throughout the street, the heroine had full intention to join in on the chaos and to hopefully find Chat— until she caught sight of herself in an upside-down car’s windshield.

She stood there gaping.

Unsure.

What the…

She wasn’t really sure what to expect, maybe an exact replica of Chat’s outfit, maybe her outfit as Ladybug but cat-themed but not… not this.

Her eyes were the same color but brighter, the iris having a deep blue ridge to them and the white part of her eyes were a slightly lighter shade. And her pupils— her pupils are slitted!

Wait.

Does that, does that mean that… that Chat’s eyes are normal now?

Ignoring that thought, she looked at the rest of her.

The suit was still the same black leather that her partner wore but with an azure shine to it. Around her neck, there was a dark blue bow with three loops made out of what seemed to be a soft and a baby blue bell in the middle.

Around her waist was the same blue ribbon that wrapped around her twice and then swished around her hips and extended towards her ankles in her ‘tail’.

Tail.

She had a tail.

Her eyes flew back up to her hair and her hands instantly shot up to her ears— leather ears exactly like Chat’s but they had light blue tips. They flicked and she felt it. She grabbed them with her hands and she squeaked.

How does he live like this?!

Instead of her pigtails, her hair was down to her shoulders with two thin ribbons going down to her shoulders. Her bangs were still present but the little hairs that used to frame her face on either side of her head and in front of her ears were now three curved whisks of hair that almost made her think they were supposed to resemble whiskers.

Her hands had claws, her wrists had ribbons and a small bow on them, as did her ankles— and her feet were shaped into paws!

Hopping on one foot, she saw the ‘toe beans’ on the bottom of her sole and squeaked rather loudly again.

She was a cat— a cat!

Her panicking came to an end when the car she was looking at herself was suddenly picked up and— thrown at her.

She heard it moving before she saw it, her ears perking up and dragging forward, her body leaping out of the way as the tension in her body raised. She sensed it coming towards her, somehow being able to feel the immediate area around her— she couldn’t stop observing it all.

Oh. Oh. It all makes sense now.

How Chat was always able to see the Akuma or any objects that were about to hit her before she did.

That and she could get so stuck in her head so much that it could be problematic.

Like now, for example.

The Akuma— a giant doll version of Reflekdoll, poor Juleka probably got akumatized again— was throwing things at her and, well, she tried her best to dodge, using her baton and newfound speed and agility to avoid being dangerously squished.

Unfortunately, she was rather clumsy with her new suit and powers.

She tried to listen to what Plagg had said, to be careful, and to be slower but she couldn’t. She never got hit by cars or building debris or the giant doll's hands but she flinched at her roars of rage and collided with building edges or other things she underestimated her own ability to stop with.

It would be so much easier if she had her yoyo or her wings to help guide her.

Where was her Chaton when she needed him?

Across town in a shady alleyway, Adrien Agreste was smiling brightly at the tiny red and black Kwami who was giving him a soft smile of her own— blue, almost purple eyes twinkling.

“I can tell why my babybug likes you so much,” Tikki said, having found and calmly explained the situation to the blond who she found calling out for Plagg mere minutes before. “You’re very polite and sweet, Stink Socks probably complains so much!”

“Thanks,” Adrien flushed slightly, wondering if he heard the miniature goddess correctly when she said that her Babybug, Ladybug by omission, liked him. “He’s not too bad as long as I give him enough camembert.

“Him and his cheese,” Tikki rolled her eyes before focusing them back on him, her smile turning encouraging. “I’m sure Plagg has found M— Ladybug by now. All you have to do is say ‘spots on’. I’m positive you’ll be able to handle it, Adrien! You’ve proven to be an amazing Chat Noir, I’m sure you’ll be an amazing Ladybug as well!”

“You’re… nothing like Plagg.”

“I know,” The Kwami giggles and strangely enough it reminds him of his lady’s giggles— that is until a loud shattering boom went through the air and shook the ground around them and a flash of black and blue went past the alley. “Ready?”

“Not really, but I’ll do my best!” Adrien gave a nervous chuckle and then took the earrings into his palms, then turning a darker sheen of red then what the black glowed with originally and the part of them that would go into the holes turned into cuffs.

When he put them on, he tugged, delighted in the way they were tight enough to never fall off unless physically torn from his ears.

“Alright, Tikki, spots on!”

Adrien didn’t expect the warmth that encased him.

Usually, the magic that he got from Plagg felt cold and secure, like a protective darkness hiding him from the loneliness, giving him the freedom to run through the night without fear of the isolation waiting for him at home.

Tikki’s magic felt heavy, like burning alive— and suddenly he understood the burden that had been placed onto his lady’s shoulders and the strictness in her eyes.

There was no room for mistakes.

The world was in her palms, she had become Atlas at thirteen and never complained once. She had taken up the mantle with wariness and a proud stance and she held it so tightly that she never dropped it once.

He sucked in a breath, almost doubling over with the weight of it all.

Ladybug— for five years— felt this unyielding responsibility? She did this and put up with him, him who teased and goofed around and made mistakes? Him who had admittedly gotten better over time but still flirts and is playful on the field?

How did she deal with that?!

Fortunately, he didn’t have to think long about that being a giant doll stopped at the edge of the alleyway, turned to him as he shuffled back and roared.

He saw his own reflection in the shiny face— a maroon suit with black details and a black mask, his hair the same mess, and the yoyo around his waist. Thick wings were on his back, he could feel them twitch and scuffle as they opened in surprise. Ladybug had wings, he didn’t know why he expected not to.

His eyes were wide and so normal that it took him a second too long to realize they were coming closer.

Because the doll was moving closer, making his reflection do the same.

Why couldn’t he sense it?

Why did everything look so… so familiar? No extra sight, no extra hearing. How did Ladybug do this— how could she fight while being so normal?

God, he always had a lot of respect for her but now he has even more.

Shooting into the air, the yoyo automatically swung in his hand as he used it to volt himself into the sky, having seen his lady do so so many times it was almost second nature. Once he got over the doll, she shrieked in agitation— looking like Reflekdoll— and moved her clanky, large body to try and grab him.

Chat, however, if he could even call himself that anymore, opened his wings with some experimentation and flapped them a couple of times, not expecting the power they held and went so far into the sky that the sight could rival their rendezvous point on the Eiffel tower.

He tried to drift right but ended up volting upside down and catching a large gust of wind that sent him backward, wings snapping painfully straight.

The hero yelped and desperately, yet futility, clawed at the air.

Where was his lady when he needed her?

The young heroine was just thinking she got the hang of how to run across the rooftops with her accelerated speed— having failed and either trip or face-planted into a chimney here or there— but a masculine yelp came from above her and she looked up just in time to see the panicked face of her partner before the deep red-suited boy with long wings crashed into her.

They went flying, both rolling as their bodies tangled together, the cold tiles of the roof underneath them not hurting but definitely not pleasant as they came to a stop a couple of seconds after.

She groaned, feeling his familiar and hard body underneath hers.

She wanted him to be there with her, of course, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to tackle her after being airborne.

“Chat,” She struggles to detangle her arms from around him, his wings crowding them more than the usual present-battle entanglement. She was grateful though for this moment, he was warm and soothing and Tikki’s magic felt like a breath of fresh air. “Why would you—”

Why would you try to fly?

She was going to ask, seeing as that’s most likely how he literally fell out of the sky and onto her but then, then something horrifying happened.

She started to purr.

“Eek!” She shot up, arms painfully pulling out of their spot as she desperately tried to crawl away from her partner. “No, no, no, no—”

“Milady,” Chat’s teasing voice froze her but, unfortunately, made the purring all the much louder and she snapped her eyes up to meet his startlingly normal eyes. “Are you doing that because of me?”

“N-no! No, of course not, that would be, that would be, uh—”

She tried to focus on what she was saying, her lie so obvious, but then that stupid cat put a gentle hand into her hair and started to massage her scalp, petting her so softly that her purrs echoed.

Why did that make her feel so warm inside and why did it feel so good?

“Aw, my little kitten.” Chat cooed out. “So adorable. You’re happy to see me, hm?”

“Hm— ah, n-no.” The heroine leaned into his palm, forgetting about their surroundings as she melted into his touch— that is until a prickling sensation shook her whole body and she heard the faintest scrap of metal against the ground.

Her eyes flew open again and she jerked back into a sitting position, eyes snapping to the right as her hackles raised. Another stupid car was coming right at them! Without much thought, the heroine pushed her partner down onto the opposite side of the roof, rolling down after him just as the vehicle smashed into the building.

Okay.

So this Akuma was the murderous kind.

Not the trap or trick kind.

Nice to know.

“Okay, we have to lure her towards the Seine,” She jumped into her usual serious mode, jumping to her feet and unaware that her tail was swishing behind her. “That way there’s less of those stupid cars to throw. I’m pretty sure everyone is to safety by now but we still don’t want her damaging buildings due to the people inside.”

“Ladybug— er, I mean… what do I call you now?” Chat asked, standing up and stretching his wings, and then almost falling over again due to the wind and some building chunks the muttering Akuma was chucking at them.

“Uh, I don’t know, you pick.” She said half mindlessly, blocking hits for both of them. “It looks like a bigger version of when Juleka got Akumatized but I haven’t seen anything that could be the object and trust me, I’ve been thrown around enough to catch all of her.”

“Bluebell Kitten,” He said, pointing to the bell in the middle of her bow. “And are you okay? Did you have trouble using the baton?”

“No, the baton is easy, it’s the stupid senses thing! How can you focus on anything?” The apparent kitten asked, pointing towards the Eiffel tower. “And for the record, I regret giving you the choice to choose, Scarlet Beetle.”

“Ah, nice name.” He grinned, heeding to her signal, and started to run in that direction. “I don’t know, it just comes naturally. Makes sense it would be overwhelming for you, though. You get no extra senses at all, I don’t know how you fight like this.”

“Quite easily,” Bluebell Kitten quipped. “And just wait until you use my charm, it’ll definitely knock you off your feet.”

“That’s okay,” Scarlet beetle helped her keep the right face and sent her a wink that sent her tail wagging embarrassingly. “It’ll just be another way I fell for you.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that made its appearance. “You ready for this, buggy?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, kitten.”

The battle went by with a little struggle— Scarlet Beetle having to help Bluebell Kitten with her speed, showing her the best way to stop or how to adjust her eyes to focus properly on what she was doing and about the new depth perception she had. In return, the bug turned cat helped the still flirty boy fly better, teaching him how to find the right air currents and how to land— but the heroine could tell her partner struggled with the Miraculous.

It was a different kind of struggle than she had with his.

Sure, Plagg’s magic was uncomfortable and too light and just wrong against her skin but Tikki with her kitty? Not a good mix.

He struggled to understand that he couldn’t take any hits for her— that that was the Kitten’s responsibility now.

That, no matter how much he wanted to save her, he couldn’t do anything that would put himself incapacitated or at a greater risk. They could defend each other but he was the last line of defense— they were a team but he mattered more.

He was the only one that could heal those hurt, that could fix things that were broken.

“Minou,” She had sighed out, blue eyes sparring her partner a glance as she distracted and he tried to figure out what his lucky charm meant. “No self-sacrificing today, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Scarlet Beetle had asked, frowning as he spun his yoyo in a circle to block some rumble from hitting him.

“It’s not your job to protect me right now. It’s your job to survive long enough to defeat the Akuma and fix everything.”

“But—”

“No buts. You can’t put yourself at risk, even for me. Understood?”

Begrudgingly, the blond-haired boy nodded and they settled their full attention back into the battle. Within minutes it was done, both of them having used their powers and able to return poor Juleka back to the Couffaine boathouse after fist-bumping and answering Alya’s question when she stormed up to them for a report on the Ladyblog.

The heroine could tell that her poor bug was still upset, having witnessed her take a couple blows that he hadn’t seen coming— being more unattentive than usual and not able to sense as much.

She had broken ribs but still fought by his side.

Broken ribs were nothing compared to what he went through before, she had told herself. He had died before, she wasn’t as unlucky.

“Chaton,” The Kitten grabbed his wrist, stopping him from where they were running on a roof, his earring cuffs beeping letting them know he only had three minutes left, her ring was at four. It had been roughly twenty minutes since they used their powers; more time from being older and getting more powers and mature suits. “I’m sorry that today was bad for you.”

“I’m just… I’m not used to not being able to protect you, milady.” He grumbled with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t like it.”

“It was only for today,” She reminded softly. “And I know how you feel but you just— you have to remind yourself that what happened, how I was hurt, wasn’t your fault. I know you would’ve protected me if you could have. That’s one of the burdens of having the Ladybug Miraculous.”

Scarlet Beetle just frowns at her and she sighs, reaching up a hand to softly cup his cheek.

“It’s okay, Kitty,” She smiles. “I’m fine now, aren’t I?”

“Is this how it’s like for you?” He questions, shiny green eyes flickering between her own. “Feeling helpless? Just watching and unable to save… I was unable to save you. I can’t, I can't do that again—”

Scarlet cuts himself off with a choking sound, hand clenching by his side with tears in his eyes. He trembled slightly and the Kitten felt her ears press flat as she recognized the terror in his eyes.

“Come here,” She holds her arms open, offering a hug and her boy is quick to take the opportunity and wrap himself into her gentle hold. “I know that was a hard fight but you’re not going to lose me, okay? Never. You’re stuck with me now, I’m not going to leave you or get hurt and not be there. I promise.”

“Promise,” He wiggles until his arm is free and holds out his pinky, the action so adorable that she can’t help but to giggle as she lifts her own hand and interwinds her pinky with his.

Beeps echo through the night and Bluebell pulls away, running a hand through Scarlet’s hair to make it even messier. She ruffled the spots his ears would normally be and smiled when the strands fluffed up and stuck up into different angles.

“We have to go, Minou.” She boops his nose. “Meet me in our hotel room tower tonight, we’ll switch back to normal.”

“Okay,” He gives her a goofy smile. “What does Tikki like to eat?”

“Chocolate chip cookies, or just sweets in general. Plagg likes cheese, right?”

“Really! Cookies are so much better than stinky camembert— which I’m guessing he mentioned. Do you, urm, even have that?”

“My dad’s secretly a cheese fanatic, I’m sure I can smuggle some of the good stuff from him.” Bluebell tilted her head slightly, eyeing his wings. “Don’t fly if you’re going into a window or something narrow because, and no offense, you're not good enough to avoid smacking into it and breaking something.”

“I take full offense,” He winks. “See you Milady.”

“See you, kitty.”

“Can you keep me?” Plagg asked, staring dreamily at the gruyere cheese that the young heroine had given him shortly after she detransformed and made it back home— and after he laughed about the pictures of all her friends including Adrien and Chat Noir on her walls. “I know I called you mushy and sentimental but this is even better than camembert!”

Marinette laughs and shakes her head, “Sorry Plagg, I prefer Tikki. I don’t like smelling like cheese.” Even if gruyere smelled quite a lot better than camembert.

“Ugh, humans.” The Kwami grumbles. “So fickle. You just wanna smell good for loverboy. I think that cheese smells amazing, for the record.”

“Your opinion has been noted.” She nods to him. “And I don’t want to smell good for Chat!”

“Mhm,” Plagg rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“I’m not!”

“I totally believe you, kid.”

“You’re horrible,” She grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah. Feed me some more.”

“No.”

“Feed me!”

“Stop yelling or I’m telling Tikki you were being mean to me.”

“Hey!” Plagg turned to her with glaring green eyes. “Don’t bring Sugarcube into this.”

Marinette turned to him and raised an eyebrow, “Then don’t bring my kitty into this.”

“Aw,” He snickered. “You called him your kitty. He’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Plagg, claws out!” Marinette flushed a bright red and a green light encased her.

Time to go visit her kitty— because he is hers, no matter Plagg’s teasing.

Across town in a lonely room, Adrien was laughing so hard his stomach was hurting and tears were coming out of his eyes. He was practically wheezing at this point, curled up as he tried to catch his breath— something that, at this point, was useless.

He had managed to convince Tikki to try some of Plagg’s camembert.

And the little Kwami quite honestly looked like she was going to throw up, cheeks going almost a purple as she grimaced and gagged.

It shouldn’t have been as funny as it was but Adrien couldn’t help it.

Tikki was so different than Plagg and the simple fact that she looked like she was ready to die right then and there from the mere taste of the black cat’s favorite food was one of the funniest things he has ever seen.

“Haha,” She said, voice light but disgusted as she tried to cover up the taste with chocolate— which, by her expression, he could tell did not blend well. “Now you have to try it. Fair is fair.”

“No!” He choked on a chuckle. “Plagg has tried to feed me it so many times and succeeded. I don’t need to smell like that cheese more than I already do!”

“Hmph,” Tikki crossed her arms and floated up to his face. “I’m going to tell baby bug you tried to poison me.”

Adrien gaped, “You wouldn’t.”

The miniature goddess giggled, “You’re right, but your expression was worth it!”

“You’re so much nicer than Plagg, I can see why Ladybug loves you so much,” He commented, blinking slightly at the little Kwami’s stupefied expression. “She’s talked about you before. I didn’t know your name or anything but a couple of times during patrol she mentioned how, well… how she was so grateful you were her best friend.”

“Really?” Tikki gave an excited smile that only widened as Adrien nodded.

“Really really.”

“Well, she’s the best Ladybug I’ve had. The youngest too.” Her smile goes softer with a tender look only a being as long as she had lived could have. “I don’t know how she does it all, but despite all she thinks about herself, she’s a very resourceful little bug. I couldn’t be prouder of her. Or of you, Adrien! Plagg loves you, even if the stinky socks won’t admit it.”

“Thank you. He purrs when I hug him, even if he yells at me.”

“Does he really?” Tikki laughed joyfully. “I’ll have fun teasing him about that.”

“I thought you were the one that got teased?” Adrien tilted his head to the side.

“It goes both ways,” She reassured. “He’s just better at it.”

“I see. Did he really kill all the dinosaurs?”

“And the doo-doo birds.”

“No!” He gasped. “Evil.”

“Laziness and distractions,” The kwami corrected, lifting a solemn paw. “He was different back then. Less happy.”

“Less happy?” Adrien questioned.

He always assumed that cheese was the only thing that made Plagg truly happy, well, until he met Tikki and she had shared a couple of stories, telling him about all the interesting things they’ve been through together.

“Yeah,” Tikki gave him a sad smile. “We’ve been around since the dawn of creation, Adrien, we’ve seen countless civilizations and being rise and fall, empires turned to nothing more than ash. We’ve seen evil rise and good defend time and time again. My bugs… they are always smart, always compassionate people. Sometimes gentle and sweet like your lady is. Sometimes not. But they all— each and every single one of them— see horribly traumatizing things that Plagg’s holders do not, they get torn apart from the inside out. But his kittens? They get hurt more. They risk more. They die more and they die first. Always. And he dies with them a bit each time.”

“That’s…”

Adrien didn’t even know what that was, the only thing that came to mind was— sad.

“I know,” She gave him that motherly smile of hers, tone soft and soothing but with a note of sadness to it. “You don’t have to say it. Plagg takes a long time to open up to someone. He doesn’t like acting close, he doesn’t like being close— he said that it hurts less that way. But I know that it hurts the same, that it hurts even more. That he wants more time with them, I know I always do.”

“I can’t speak for anyone but myself,” The young hero says. “But I know that whenever I go, I will want more time with him, too.”

Tikki fixes him with a sweet look in her eye, “That’ll mean a lot to Stinky Socks. Could you tell him that?”

“Of course,” Adrien gives her one of his bright smiles— one that’s actually real. “It’s almost time to meet Milady at our room, are you all energized?”

Their room was at Le Grand Paris, paid for by Major Bourgeois after he assured the two heroes that there would be no supervallince, no one allowed on that floor (the very top) without their explicit permission and that they could come there at any time, the balcony always unlocked.

Chloe told them that it was a gift to her favorite superhero and ‘friend’ of all time.

Ladybug gave a weak smile and scowled once whom she considered to be a nuisance looked away.

Besides Chloe beings, well… Chloe, Adrien had no clue what she could’ve done to make his lady hate her so much. They interacted once every couple months due to her causing an Akuma, so maybe that was it but the dislikement Ladybug had for the girl seemed to go beyond that.

It seemed personal.

“Yep! Take me back to my baby bug, please.” Tikki smiles at him.

Returning the look, Adrien calls out, “Spots on!” And is encased into a burning, dark red light before the same maroon suit and dark wings flexed against his skin.

Scarlet beetle sighed.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to see his lady.

Arriving at Le Grand Paris, Bluebell Kitten knew that her partner was already inside based on the precariously left open door and an album from Jagged Stone that she could hear extraordinarily well even from outside.

She, expecting to be able to stop, landed onto the balcony and put away her baton— only for her clumsy feet to stumble due to her speed and she crashed right through the open door, thankful that he left it open.

Then for the second time that day, the two heroes crashed into each other before slamming into the floor, the Kitten on top of the beetle and both bright red, bodies tangled up and so close that she couldn’t tell where she ended and he started.

“H-hey, Milady.” He, for some reason, chuckled and cupped the back of her head, holding her gently as he shifted slightly underneath her. “That eager to be bugged by me, huh?”

“Chaton,” The heroine scowled, pushing herself onto her elbows as she rests peacefully against his chest. “Aren’t you punned out for the day?”

“When am I ever punned out, little kitten?”

Bluebell shrieks as a purr loudly announces her appreciation— that she otherwise would’ve been able to hide— for the pet name and she scrambled back as that stupid blond started to laugh.

“Chat!” She covers her mouth with both hands, desperately trying to stop both her blush and the noise coming from her as it only grows thanks to her useless partner pulling her back onto him with a wicked grin. “Make it stop! How do I make it stop?”

“I don’t know if I want to help you with this, Milady,” He bites the inside of his cheek. “I quite like you not being able to hide how you feel.”

The purr in her chest turned into a soothing, almost constant rumble and she pouted.

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” The words seemed to vibrate in her throat and she swallowed the odd tickling feeling down. “I purr, Chaton. Purr! And every time I look at you my stupid tail wants to act up! Why? Because it hates me.”

“No,” He grinned. “Because you loooove me.”

Flushing deeply, she buries her head into her hands— deciding that's not enough and then buries it into his chest to hide the red-stained cheeks but Scarlet Beetle only laughs, telling her he saw it already.

“Come on, Bugaboo. I’m just teasing you.”

“I don’t like this.”

“But you like me.”

“Chat!”

“What? I didn’t do anything.” His laugh deepens and she can feel it in her own chest, being that close to him. That traitorous purr only gets louder. Stupid, stupid cat instincts. Why can’t she enjoy the sound of his laugh without him knowing? Was that too much to ask?

“Just give me my miraculous back, you silly tomcat,” Bluebell grumbles, successfully sitting up this time, the purr quieting when Scarlet Beetle puts his hands back to his sides. “And don’t tease my purring!”

“Why not?” He pouts. “You tease my purring.”

“That’s different,” She whines. “You’re cute when you do it. It’s just weird for me too! I don’t want to be able to hear your heart beating— wait!” She stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “Do you… do you usually hear that good?”

“Yeah?” The hero gives her a weird look. “But I learned to ignore it, why?”

“No reason.” She sighs, looking away from her partner as she scrambles off of him, both standing up and a foot apart. “Point is, I’m a cat person but I don’t want to be a cat.”

“I rather like seeing you as a cat,” His comment earns a dry look.

“I’m sure you just love seeing me prance around in leather but I like being Ladybug, not a kitty.”

“But you're my kitten,” Beetle’s pout returns, and his green eyes widen innocently— almost as bad as Manon’s when she wants something.

The longer she stared into his eyes, the more familiar they became.

Not because they were Chat’s eyes, no— she’s seen her partner’s slitted gaze thousands of times. She’s seen him look at her a thousand times with that look in his eyes, too. The look that got her heart racing and the ‘what ifs’ to drag through her mind.

But these eyes?

And that expression?

She saw it somewhere else, on someone else.

All she can do is stare blankly at him, mind reeling.

No… no, it can’t be him— Chat can’t be—

But he could.

The missed classes, the poor excuses, the exhaustion, the secret gaze, the trusting of her civilian self. Blonde hair, green eyes. Bad father. Kind, selfless, smart. Lonely. The gentlest soul she has ever met.

Everything just clicked.

The thing they had been dancing around for years just fell into place looking into those eyes— eyes she used to be too nervous to look into. Eyes she tripped over, eyes she used to be in love with; eyes she still was in love with.

Raising a shaking hand to his cheek, she caressed it softly before bringing it up to his hair and brushing the strands back. He watched her, curious gaze intense as they locked eyes.

“Adrien?”

The name passed her lips so softly, so assured, and her kitty flinched in surprise, wide eyes filling first with confusion, then panic, and then with questions.

“How did you…”

She fell for him once under the hood of an umbrella and a sincere apology, with thunder and lightning crashing around them in the downpour but she didn’t mind. She wasn’t the only thing in Paris that day that felt so heavy that she could scream and she didn’t mind. She fell in love with the sweet boy with good grades and a sadness trapped into a smile. She fell in love with the boy who did everything he could to make his father happy, to help people. She fell in love with the boy beyond the good boy, perfect model facade he put on.

She fell in love with Adrien Agreste at fifteen.

She fell in love with him again at eighteen but it was different this time. There was no lightning, no quick strike of feelings and amazement and warmth. No, it was like swimming in shallow waters only to get swept up in the tides, completely trusting the water to keep her safe.

She fell in love with the puns, with the goofy smile and flicking ears and curious green eyes. She fell in love with her best friend, her partner. She fell in love with the boy in the mask, the one who supported her whenever she needed it and held her even when she didn’t. She fell in love with his sensitive heart and sharp mind.

She fell in love with Chat Noir.

And ever since then she’s been falling all over the place, enamoured over everything he did. She fell and fell and fell. There were so many things to love about him— both sides of him.

How couldn’t she see it before?

Because, honestly, who else could’ve been good enough to be Chat Noir?

“Your eyes,” She murmured almost absentmindedly, looking between the verdant orbs. “They’re usually darker and slitted. Cats eyes. But… but these eyes? These are Adrien Agreste’s eyes. I know these eyes, they’re beautiful.”

She could hear his heart racing and she could see the almost begging way he looked at her. She could see the tension in his body, the way he could so easily shrink in on himself.

“And is… is being Adrien okay?” The hero questioned, wincing slightly as he looked away from her. “Are you disappointed that it’s me?”

“Of course not,” She giggled and that stupid purr still hadn’t left. “You’re you. How could that ever disappoint me, Chaton?”

“I don’t know... I’m not, I don’t— do I know you?” Adrien— Chat— questioned, shuffling on his feet as he leaned into her touch. “Outside of the mask, I mean?”

She felt the purring stop and her ears went back. She retracted her hand slowly to her cheek and hugged herself around the middle. She looked down at the wings opened anxiously against his back, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face.

“Yeah,” The heroine nods. “We’re friends.”

Friends.

That’s all they were.

Chat Noir and Adrien were in love with Ladybug— not her.

She wasn’t elegant or agile, she tripped over her feet three times a day and could be so unorganized and forgetful that she drove herself insane. She wasn’t too confident and she was far from brave.

Marinette wasn’t like Ladybug.

She wasn’t… she wasn’t that perfect girl Chat made her out to be.

Adrien was her friend, they hung out and could have good conversations but she noticed that he avoided her slightly, almost like he was disgusted by her. Like she made him uncomfortable.

Like he couldn’t stand her, even if he was polite.

It was almost like how she acted the first year they knew each other but he seemed more… wary, like she had done something to offend him and he was just waiting for her to realize or talk to him about it.

Would he be disappointed that she’s Ladybug?

Angry, even?

“Why do you look so sad, bugaboo?” Adrien asks, concern touching his tone. “Did you— do you not want to be my friend?”

When she looked at him, her poor partner looked ready to drop with worry and she gave a watery chuckle, just realizing there were tears in her eyes.

“Sorry,” She rubs the wetness away, almost poking herself with the claws. “I just… you don’t like me much. The civilian me, anyway. I don’t want you to be upset that it’s me.”

“There are very few people I don’t like,” He frowned. “And none of them have blue hair, or blue eyes, or your smile. Who are you?”

Bluebell lowered her eyes, “You won’t hate me?”

It’s always been a fear of hers— Chat finding out who she actually was and leaving her, being disgusted. How could an insecure klutz like that protect Paris? How could he trust the girl who couldn’t get three good sentences out to him to talk down an Akuma or soothe one of the victims with her tone?

How could he still love her, knowing the girl underneath the mask?

Ladybug was stunning.

Marinette was just… Marinette.

“I couldn’t even if I tried,” Adrien reassured her, wringing his hands together in such a cute, unlike-Chat way that she giggled. “Can I detransform?”

“Sure,” She took a step back again, nervous for no reason at all.

It was just Chat, just her partner. Just the boy she’s been in love with for the last five years.

No big deal.

None whatsoever.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “You look like you’re going to cry. Oh no, I’m so sorry! I knew you wouldn’t like that I was Adrien! God, I’m so stupid—”

“Stop being mean to yourself!” She snapped. “I care about you, both sides! I care that you’re Adrien because you make me a little nervous but it’s nothing bad, I promise! I just have, urm… it’s a lot to process.”

“...Understandable.” He swallowed, then said, “Spots off.”

A flash of red consumed Scarlet Beetle and in his place stood Adrien, hair neater and muscular body less accentuated in his, ironically, ladybug-themed sweater and jeans that she knew he wore to school.

It was Adrien Agreste.

Her friend Adrien Agreste.

Bluebell knew that— of course she knew that but seeing it… it took her breath away.

Tikki floated between the two heroes with wide eyes, glancing to her baby bug and then back to the blond. She had no clue what was happening and her holder dreaded the lecture she’d get later of the importance of keeping their identities a secret.

With slightly narrowed eyes but an encouraging smile, Tikki went over to the other side of the room where the cookies were at and started to eat.

She could feel the Kwami’s eyes on her and the anxiety creeping around her veins pulsed viciously.

Taking a deep breath, she looked Adrien in the eyes— and then purred.

Loudly.

Horrifyingly loud.

When will this nightmare end?!

“Eep!” She stumbles back, flushing. “I don’t mean to, I swear!”

Adrien gives her that bemused smile, one usually reserved for Marinette after she did something weird or awkward, and chuckles, “It’s okay, Milady. No judgment here.”

“Thanks.” She said, still covering her cheeks.

“Are you, um… going to detransform, too?”

She knows that Adrien— Chat— has wanted to know who she was since the day they met. She wanted to know too but the fear of Hawkmoth getting to them outweighed the desire.

But thinking about it and actually telling him were two different things.

“I meant what I said,” Bluebell told him, voice steady but wary. “You avoid me and… and the way you look at me— we’re friends but just don’t… don’t get your hopes up that I’m someone you’ll like.”

“I already know I like you, with or without the mask.” He reassured, that usual comforting smile on his lips that got him that sunshine-boy reputation. “So please, bugaboo? I really want to know who you are.”

She bit her lip, holding her breath for a couple of seconds as she held herself in place too, leaning against the wall besides the windows.

She felt trapped, worried, but also excited.

She wanted him to know, even if she was scared.

She was far enough away from him, she could probably make it to the window and escape if he looked absolutely revolted by her.

She’s faced rejection before.

She could do it again.

Even if it would hurt really, really bad.

“Claws in.” She said, face turned to the ground as she trembled.

Oh God, there was no turning back now.

The soft baby blue light surrounded her, the drowning, beating wave-like power of the Miraculous leaving her as Plagg appeared in the air next to her arm— him being tackled by Tikki before he could even say anything, followed by a loud ‘shush’ from the Kwami.

Marinette stood there, shoulders raised with tension and her heart pounding behind her ears. She had the strongest urge to hide her face from view, to run away from all of this.

From his reaction.

“You’re… you’re Marinette.” Adrien said this slowly. He got a nod in reply. “And you think that I— Adrien Agreste— don’t like you?”

She gave another nod, not trusting her voice to speak.

She couldn’t even look at him. How pathetic could she get?

“I don’t hate you, Mari,” He said this and Marinette shyly looked up, flushing at the look of adoration on his face. He could still look at her like that? How? “I always noticed how uncomfortable I made you, I was just giving you space. I didn’t mean to make you upset, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She rubs her arms and looks away again. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, just nervous.”

“Why?” Adrien questioned, voice almost cracking. “Do I intimidate you or something?”

Marinette couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Intimidate me?” This is said with a giggle and she makes her amused eyes meet his. “You think you’re intimidating? Cute.”

“Hey,” His tone turned slightly offended and she bit her lip as he pouted. “I can be intimidating and scary.”

“Yeah?” She teases, leaning forward with that twinkle in her eyes— playful like how she could be with Chat. Because this was Chat. “Do it. Be scary. Intimidate me, ‘o frightening one.”

“Urm, I d-don’t think I can right now. You’re you.”

“Does your brain feel like it’s going to explode?” Marinette asks, blue clashing with green as she tilts her head to the side.

“Kinda.” Adrien admits sheepishly. “I’m still trying to understand why you get nervous around me.”

“Uh,” She blinks, a sheepish smile coming onto her face. “I know you’re in love with Ladybug but— but I’m not her, I’m not that great. I’m just me. And you think of me— Marinette— as a friend. But… I’ve kind of been in love with you since Dupont?”

“You what?”

“Been in love with you,” Marinette’s face burned. “Since I was about thirteen. I hated you at first, you were friends with Chloe and the gum on my seat didn’t help but then I noticed how kind you were. Smart, selfless. Lonely, too but you don’t like talking about that so I’m sorry for mentioning it— I just, I fell in love with you and that’s why you always made me nervous because I didn’t think you could love me back.”

“Marinette,” Adrien looks at her, tenderness and seriousness oddly mixed in his gaze as he slowly walked towards her. “I’ve been in love with you from the second we met. And don’t say that you’re not Ladybug because you are, both inside and outside of the mask. You help people, you protect them. You’re passionate and strong and stubborn and I love you. I don’t know how many times I’ll have to say it before you believe me but I’ll do it until then and even after. I love you. I love you so much that it hurts— mph!”

With slight tears pricking her eyes, Marinette closed the distance between them and wrapped him into a tight hug, his now familiar body both making her feel calm and make her heart race.

“I love you too.”

Adrien sighs contently, wrapping his arms around her too. He held her gently but tightly, not willing to let her go but not risking hurting her— not that the silly kitty could.

Suddenly he chuckles and says, “That explained why you purred.”

“I said not to tease me!” She whined, pulling back enough that she could look up at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re so mean, Chaton.”

“And you’re stunning, Bugaboo.”

The comment made Marinette squeak and dunk her head, desperate to get her blush out of his eyesight— but a soft yet collapsed hand holding lightly onto her chin stopped the action, Adrien bringing her eyes back up to look at him.

“You believe me when I say that, yes?” He asks. “Because I mean it. Everything about you is gorgeous, I don’t know how I didn’t realize the two girls I fell in love with were the same one.”

“It’s because we’re both stupid,” She giggles, stering the converastion away from compliments, unsure of how much warmer her face could get before she combusted. “But I also blame your hair.”

“My hair?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Mhm,” She hums, reaching up to play with the soft strands as she had done so hundreds of times before. “You always have it so neat but as Chat it’s messy.”

“I like it better that way,” He explains, a slight purr to his voice. “It’s more comfortable.”

“Both styles are equally cute, so you’re lucky.” She murmurs absentmindedly, still focused on his hair, ruffling it slightly with a smile. Then she notices the ear cuffs he had on and blinked in surprise. “Are those my earrings?”

“Huh?” Adrien blinks his eyes open and Marinette giggles at his dazed expression. Even without the ring he was her silly kitty who liked to be pet and cuddled. “Oh, yeah. They changed when I touched them.”

“Your ring did too,” She shows him. “It was weird, I thought it would’ve stayed silver.”

“Yeah, me too,” He poked the ring and then gently slides it off of her finger, putting it on his own before reaching up for the earrings and giving them back to their rightful owner who puts them off and sighs in relief.

This magic was familiar— this magic was warm and like home and tight enough to keep her safe, not like swimming in an open ocean and gasping for air only for her lungs to fill with water instead.

“Mari?”

“Yes?” She looks up at him, seeing questions in his verdant eyes.

“Have you, um, seen something bad that I haven’t?”

It was admittedly a weird question, one that through her off guard but one that also made her think of the word drowned in water and dust, of the Eiffel tower toppled over, of watching herself crumple and fade, of seeing the moon cracked open in the sky and a boy in white with blue, crying eyes and a broken soul.

It made her think of how she saved him— but how she hadn’t saved her Chaton all those times, how she watched him die and fade and get captured and tortured and taken control of.

It made her think of the trauma of watching her city burn and the people in it all relying on her since the tender age of thirteen to save them all.

It made her think of all the times she had to protect everyone by herself because she lost Chat after he risked everything to save her.

Realizing she got lost in thought, Marinette startled and focused back onto her partner, “Yes, but don’t worry Minou. I can handle it.”

“I want you to be able to talk to me about those things,” Adrien murmured softly. “Tikki told me that all her Ladybugs live through things Chat Noirs don’t— but we’re a team. I want to share that burden with you.”

She sighed— and then she told him about Chat Blanc, she told him about how Paris drowned under the weight of their love three years ago and she’s been scared for him ever since, she told him about all of it.

By the end, they were both in tears and holding onto each other.

A weight feels like it was lifted off of her shoulders, like she was light enough to just float. It felt good talking about it, to let go all of that terror and heartache she accumulated over the years.

“You’re stronger than I ever knew,” Adrien kisses her forehead and her heart flutters. “I’m so proud of you, my little kitten.”

“Adrien,” She whines, hiding her face into his shoulder. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” He chuckles, lightening the mood. He always had a way of doing that. “Complimenting you?”

“Yes, I’m not used to it!” Marinette exclaimed. “You’re making me blush too much!”

“What if that’s my goal?”

“Then it’s a bad goal.”

“Meow-ch, Princess.” Adrien puts a hand over his heart. “You hurt me so, but fine. If that’s a bad goal, then what’s a good one?”

Feeling brave, she shoots him a wide smirk, “Kissing you until you’re breathless.”

He just stares at her, gaping as he blinks.

“What, Kitty?” She teases, leaning closer. “You flirt all the time but can’t take it?”

“No, it’s j-just… I completely support that goal.”

Laughing, Marinette rolls his eyes before cupping his face and kissing him— the feeling of his soft lips on hers sending a shiver down her spine. It was passionate and slow and loving, a kiss that told both of them all they had been feeling for these years.

It was a kiss that told them no matter what happened, they’d be okay.

So they kissed, again and again until they lost reality.

Going through the pain of having their Miraculous switched was worth it.

#switched miraculous #adrien x marinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #ml ladybug #ml adrien #mlb fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous kwami #kitten #purring #Chat Noir and Ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #mlb fic #fluff #fight #akuma attack #long post #long fic

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lyricalimerence · 5 years ago

Text

Enchanted - Rafe Cameron

summary: rafe meets reader at a party and she becomes entranced at the idea of him—at the idea of them.

word count: 1744

warnings: fluff mainly, it's pretty mild (edit: just remembered underage drinking lol)

a/n: based off the song enchanted my taylor swift,,, i dunno her old stuff is pretty good and i felt like writing fluff today. did i edit ? of course not :)

there i was again tonight forcing laughter, faking smiles

same old tired, lonely place

walls of insincerity

shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when i saw your face

all i can say is it was enchanting to meet you

the sun danced along the edge of the horizon, colors bursting from the seams into tie dyes of golds, reds, pinks, and purples in time to the music. cliche classical fugues and themes pulsed through speakers, carrying the chamber orchestra's melodies through the entirety of the country club. through the bathrooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and the back patio where teenagers were dancing and sneaking alcoholic beverages from the waiters.

in one corner of the laminate flooring, a girl stood, both hands wrapped around a glass of seltzer water, as she nodded her head to the girls surrounding her. a perfectly manicured set of nails rapped against the laminate wood tabletop as her gaze drifted around the patio. her forced smile caused her cheeks to ache in a falsely saccharine, model-esque bravado. her laughter didn't meet her eyes as she took social cues from the lightly giggling girls around her.

the tall brunette flocking at her immediate right side faux complimented her dress, the royal blue satin draped over her bronzed frame. flashing a tight lipped smile and a grateful nod, she returned the compliment in a way that mocked the girl's insincere and jealous commentary. throwing her head back to allow the staticky, carbonated seltzer to flow down her throat, she closed her eyes, imagining she was anywhere but there.

she sidestepped around the brunette and the table, searching for bar outside, looking to treat her body with something stronger. with her company for the night, she needed the extra boost of intoxication to get by. the rhythmic clack of her heels against the tiles created a harmony to accompany the music that took an upbeat turn for the teenage girls grinding against each other on the dance floor, parents having absconded their children hours before to reminisce themselves. there was no doubt in her mind that her mother was gossiping will her newfound wine drunk friends as her father was at the bar inside with other king pins of kildare.

as she coerced the bartender to mix a splash of rum into her coke as she was only nineteen, a shadow fell across her contoured face. the dip of her cheekbones deepening gauntly and the rouge plush of her lips darkening in the portable shade. the shifting eyes of the bartender paused at the sight of the teenager standing beside her—the creator of the shadow. she avoided eye contact as long as possible, she knew very few people on kildare, and she wasn't too keen on meeting more—from what she's seen, they're awful people. however, a menacing glare frightened the poor bartender into tipping his rum bottle filled hand into the glass of coke and sliding it across the bar towards her.

with a shy smile she looked up to thank the guy who aided her in her mission to inebriation. "thank you," she faltered as she looked up, the sparkle in his eyes, the curve of his smirk, he was perfectly chiseled. however oddly cliche it sounds, it was almost godlike how his presence enraptured her attention.

"anytime," he didn't break eye contact as he brought his glass, that had been refilled with what she was positive to be alcohol, to his lips. she passed along a brief, but genuine, smile as she made her way back to the corner, the fabric of her dress swaying around her legs as she walked. he couldn't look away from her. surface level, she was gorgeous, and as hormonal as he was, her body was capable of leaving the guy speechless, if he wasn't quite so eloquent.

your eyes whispered "have we met?"

across the room your silhouette starts to make it's way to me

the playful conversation starts

counter all your quick remarks, like passing notes in secrecy

and it was enchanting to meet you

all i can say is it was enchanted to meet you

she knocked her drink back gracefully, not showing any signs of the drink burning her throat on the way down. discarding her glass on a table somewhere, she rolled her shoulders back and slipped into the crowd of dancing teenagers, immediately finding the only girl she knew.

"hi, sarah!" she smiled toothily at the dirty blonde. sarah returned the grin, stepping towards her and grabbing her hands to pull her into the heart of the sea of moving bodies. sarah spun the girl around jokingly, laughter erupting between them as the taps of heels and lights of the country club threw a halt in the regularity of the outer banks suburbia.

somewhere between sillily slow dancing and dancing somewhat sensually, the alcohol kicking in, her eyes met with the boy from before. she knew his eyes were watching her the entire time, trying to answer a question that had toyed with his mind since they had their short exchange at the bar. she was thinking the same thing, had they met before? something was so familiar about him, but she couldn't put her mauve painted finger on it.

the definitely familiar smirk worked its way across his face as he worked his way across the dance floor. "hey," his voice greeted in her ear as she swayed her hips to the beat, gradually getting farther away from sarah as her intoxication grew stronger.

"hi!" her grin widened at the boy, her personality becoming bubbly as she grabbed his hand and tried to spin him but couldn't quite get her arm over his head due to his height. "i'm y/n, who are you?"

"rafe cameron. have i seen you before?" rafe replied, following with a question as he bent his knees so the girl in front of him could, in fact, twirl him around.

"yeah, we just saw each other at the bar, you silly goose." grabbing both his hands, she danced with him, completely informally, almost as if she was trying to give her parents a metaphorical middle finger. that is, until she realized what he said his last name was. "oh my god! my dad is closing a business deal with yours!"

"yeah, he is, and silly goose?" rafe's hands moved to the small of her back as the song changed to a slower melody. she wrapped her arms around his neck loosely and nodded. her eyes lit up from what he saw earlier, setting her face aglow. she was absolutely gorgeous under the moonlight and scattered lamps.

"would you prefer silly duck or silly chicken?" she quizzed, her brows quirking upwards. she felt content there, her conversation with rafe flowing through their quick remarks and quips.

whether it was the rum surging through her neurons or the heels pushing her up onto her tiptoes, she stumbled, stepping on rafe's toes on accident. he laughed it off, setting off fireworks in his turquoise eyes. "do you take constructive criticism on dancing?"

"oh, not with being emotionally wounded soon thereafter." she replied, nodding her head with a grin as she took a step back and stabilized herself. "so, what's it like being the son of the most important man on the island?"

rafe spun her around before letting her twirl, the song changing again, prompting the dancing crowd to shake their heads, ruining their perfectly styled hair and sway their hips, allowing dresses of satin to float through the air. "oh, y'know, lots of golfing and parties."

"you seem like the type to golf." y/n replied, bumping her hip into rafe's as they danced. "you don't seem like the type to dance, though."

"yeah, you're right." he dramatically conceded, taking her hand again and doing the wave. "so, cheer me on very loudly, i'm very insecure."

the conversation was tossed back and forth between the limited space between them due to forced proximity. he just seemed so different than the other people she's met in kildare. but dancing stopped and music paused when his father, and her father, walked out of the country club's building to celebrate their business deal.

"i've gotta go."

this night is sparkling, don't you let it go

i'm wonder struck, blushing all the way home

this night is flawless, don't you let it go

i'm wonder struck, dancing around all alone

i'll spend forever wondering if you knew

i was enchanted to meet you

y/n had her heels in her hand and held the hem of her dress in the other to keep it off the tarmac of her driveway. the stars adorned the night sky, sparkling fairy lights in a sea of tenebrosity. her mind replayed the nights events, casually skipping over her entertaining a conversation with girls she didn't know or like to dancing with rafe, a guy she just met but couldn't get out of her mind.

a blush peppered her cheeks in a dark pink, almost invisible in the dim light, but burning against her cheekbones. she walked with her mother, both still slightly tipsy and leaning on each other as they laughed, both for their own unspoken reasons. mr. y/l/n had bounded for the front door as soon as the car and been put in park, immediately wanting to get started on the deal he had just closed with rafe's father.

she fell against her soft mattress, like laying on a cloud as her mind was playing her hour with rafe that felt like a minute on repeat like a broken record. she was wonderstruck at the idea of him—maybe the people here weren't so bad.

she found a recording of the song the chamber orchestra was playing while she was slow dancing with rafe and played it on repeat as she changed into pajamas and washed off her makeup. her hips swaying off their own accord and her head moving side to side as she danced in her room all alone.

falling against her comforter once again, her eyes traced the glow-in-the-dark stickers she pasted to her ceiling the moment she entered her room in the new house. she followed the edges of each star, forming constellations—similarly to the flecks of gold and olive and in rafe's turquoise eyes.

as she drifted into a sleep, her mind stuck to rafe, wondering if he knew just how enchanted she was to meet him.

tags ( if you want to be added click here )

@insanitysparkles @anonymous0writer @prejudic3 @ilovejjmaybank @apoguecalledjj @calumbroutledge @rudys-pankow @bxllasanosa @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @write-from-the-heart @thelocalpogue @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @jayjaymaebank @lovingxjj @drew-starkey

#obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx fic #rafe cameron fluff #fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe x you

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