#and once i got around to trying some Normal Enjoyable Activities i found out these are not enjoyable to me at akl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nightjarteeth · 4 years ago

Text

Day 4 of the Midsummer Masquerade: Sensory Deprivation

(thanks to CrinklyTinfoil for helping me write the spicy bits <3)

Word count: 3258

Pairing: Valdemar x Finch

Warnings: lemon, tentacles, sensory deprivation, nudity, no actual penetration

(for those who follow my writing, this fic diverges from this chapter of Vervain, Mugwort, & Other Magiferous Plants. this is in no way necessary reading, though.)

“Would you like to see the dungeons?” Quaestor Valdemar asked inquisitively, touching their fingertips together.

“After all, I’d say you’ve earned it after getting past that lock.” Their words implied that Finch was being treated to a reward, but Finch got the distinct impression that they really just wanted to show Finch whatever horrors were lurking down there.

“Oh, no thank you,” Finch replied a little tersely. “I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your valuable time, after all.”

And more importantly, they were more than eager to leave this dark, damp tunnel the Quaestor had lured them down with the promise of a supposedly “intriguing lock.”

As Finch turned to leave, the Quaestor made a pointed coughing noise.

“Are you quite sure about that? You know, I’ve recently acquired some… let’s say, specialized new equipment I could show you. I’ve been looking for someone to test it out on for a while.”

Finch paused. Specialized equipment…?

Wait a second. Was this related to that Midsummer Masquerade thing?

A few days ago, Finch had found an envelope surreptitiously slipped underneath their guest room in the palace. Inside was an invitation written in stylish scarlet ink — and it appeared to be playfully alluding to its intentions, rather than stating them forthright.

Finch had furrowed their brow as they deciphered what exactly the invitation was getting at. It seemed to be a clandestine event… of a decidedly more adult nature.

“Is this some sort of… sex party?” they’d muttered. They approached their door, cracking it open a notch and peering out in an attempt to see who had slipped it under the door. There was no one there.

Whoever had given them the invite had disappeared abruptly, leaving their identity a mystery.

They glanced down at the parchment again.

“Hmmmm. Nope, won’t be attending whatever that is,” they concluded. Finch would be the first to describe themself as a private person — they weren’t a big fan of parties to begin with, much less sexually-inclined parties. To put it lightly, this Midsummer Masquerade thing wasn’t their cup of tea.

For the last two days, they’d been using the invitation as scrap paper, and had nearly forgotten about the upcoming event.

But now…

Perhaps the Quaestor themself had been invited to the Midsummer Masquerade, and was struck in a mood. And perhaps they also preferred to keep such activities private.

Arriving back from their train of thoughts, Finch looked up again. Valdemar’s red eyes were fixed upon them, interestedly waiting for their answer. Finch felt their face flush a little.

Even though just a minute ago they’d been considering how creepy Valdemar was, with their peculiar mannerisms and open adoration of the plague, Finch found themself reevaluating the physician.

They… weren’t unattractive. Actually, once you got past a few minor details — like how they never seemed to blink, or the strange bandages swathed around their head — Finch had to admit there was a certain elegance to their figure.

And who knew? Maybe some experimentation with some questionable equipment in an underground dungeon could release some of the tension of the last few days.

“I have to admit, I’m… curious about your equipment,” Finch confessed, wincing at the accidental euphemism.

“Oh, wonderful,” Valdemar replied. “I’ve been looking to find someone to test it out on for ages.”

They seized a bar of the iron gate, and it juddered open with a loud creak that echoed along the stone tunnel walls.

“In you go,” they instructed, beckoning Finch to walk inside a small elevator that looked like it could just barely accommodate a single person.

“Can two people really fit in there?” Finch asked, unconvinced.

“Don’t fret your little mind over it,” the Quaestor assured them in a not-very-assuring voice. “It will be a tight squeeze, but I’m absolutely sure you won’t mind.”

Finch entered the elevator, noting that the metal platform beneath their feet shuddered a little as they placed their weight on it. How stable was this thing, exactly?

Valdemar moved in swiftly after them, and their chest pressed in closely alongside Finch’s shoulders. Somehow, when they stepped upon the platform, it didn’t shudder at all.

“See? Very comfortable,” Valdemar said, resting a chilly hand on Finch’s head. “Down we go.”

With no indication of them pulling a lever or pressing a button, the elevator rattled on downwards.

Finch shivered against the coldness of Valdemar’s perfectly-still chest. Were they just imagining things, or… did the Quaestor somehow not have a heartbeat? It didn’t feel as if they were even breathing.

But before they had time to fully evaluate this, the elevator had come to a stop, and the iron gate was opening once more. Outside, there was nothing but pitch darkness.

“Well? Come along,” the Quaestor said, looking back behind at Finch, who was not budging.

“Hmmm, that’s right, you need additional lighting. Well, I wouldn’t want you stumbling on anything — an injury might ruin the integrity of the whole experiment. I’ll be right back.”

Valdemar momentarily left Finch with no light except for the dull red glow of whatever magic powered the elevator. Then, they emerged from the dark with a torch in their hand.

“That’s better, yes? Now follow me,” they instructed.

Now that the torch illuminated the area in soft orange brightness, Finch was able to take a decent look at their surroundings. The dungeon was spacious, looking like a place that formerly held a great deal of activity. Tables and chairs were strewn about, with an empty operating theater set at the dead center of it all.

As Valdemar led them through the room, Finch took note of how many of the tables were equipped with sturdy-looking leather straps. One of them still had polished scalpels and a bonesaw arranged neatly across its surface.

Finch gulped. They had a feeling that whatever “equipment” Quaestor Valdemar had mentioned might be of the BDSM variety… but how much could Finch really handle?

“I’ve been searching for a volunteer for this simply forever,” Valdemar wistfully sighed in the meanwhile. “It would’ve been much easier back in the days of the Red Plague — there was no shortage of potential participants in the dungeons back then… but nowadays finding someone sturdy and willing can be a real challenge.”

That’s a very strange way of saying that you’ve been having trouble finding sex partners lately, Finch thought, but kept quiet.

“When I saw the schematic a fellow scientist invented, I simply couldn’t resist recreating it myself. This will be so much fun.”

The way Valdemar said the word “fun” made Finch’s stomach turn in knots. Either this was going to be a weirdly enjoyable time, or it was going to be the most frightening moment of Finch’s life.

In any case, this was bound to be an intense experience.

Eventually, Valdemar stopped at a stone archway with a dark room beyond its threshold.

“It’s right in here,” they said, shining the torchlight so that it illuminated the room.

Finch peered in. The room was empty, with no visible contraption they could see… and then they glanced down at the floor.

Set into the stone tiles was a circular black pool of water. The orange light of the torch flickered over its mirror-like surface, revealing nothing of its depth.

“Wait, what is that?” Finch asked, a nervous twitch entering their normally stoic expression. This… was not what they had been expecting.

“It’s a sensory deprivation pool,” Valdemar replied, their voice laced with excitement. “And you’re going in it.”

Finch felt at that moment that they would’ve been more comforted if there’d been the table with the scalpels and bonesaw inside the room. At least that would’ve been more aligned with the BDSM situation they’d been previously anticipating.

For the first time, they began to question if this whole invitation really was a sex thing.

“I’m going in there?” they asked, taken aback.

“Oh, yes,” Valdemar answered matter-of-factly.

“Is… there anything in that water that I should know about?” Finch asked next, peering into the opaque surface of the pool. It was all too easy to imagine some deep sea leviathan idling under the surface, waiting for someone to dip their toes in.

“Goodness, no. The water’s far too salty for any extant species to survive living in it. And don’t worry about sinking, either… the primary purpose of all that salt is that it’ll allow you to simply float in the water.”

“Any further questions?” the Quaestor asked, suddenly far too close to Finch’s ear. Finch paused for a moment, trying to think of any excuse to get out of this situation they’d foolishly signed up for.

But before they could even formulate a response, Valdemar had already taken their silence as an answer.

“Good, good. Then you may proceed to disrobe.”

Finch hesitated, wondering if they should wait for the Quaestor to leave the room before stripping their clothes off. Instead, they tilted their head at Finch, red eyes looking directly at them.

“If you’re nervous about disrobing in front of me, you needn’t be. I can assure you that whatever’s under that cloak of yours will not surprise me. Unless, you’d rather I leave you in total darkness to remove your clothing?”

“No, that definitely won’t be necessary,” Finch quickly replied, not fancying the idea of tripping over their clothes in the dark.

They weren’t particularly embarrassed about being nude, but they had to admit that the Quaestor’s unyielding gaze was a little unnerving.

Finch turned away to undress, the dungeon air chilly against their skin. When they were fully naked, they looked back. The whole time they were undressing, Valdemar’s eyes hadn’t moved, their face expressionless and giving nothing away.

Finch couldn’t decide if this was vaguely arousing or downright creepy.

They cautiously clambered down the stone steps leading down into the pool. To their surprise, the water was pleasantly warm to the touch.

“All the way in,” Valdemar instructed. “And then situate yourself so that you’re floating on your back.”

Finch did as they were told, leaning back into the pool and letting their limbs go limp. Just as Valdemar had said, they floated with no difficulty, the water seeming strangely supportive of their weight.

“...now what?” they asked after a moment. Gazing up from their position in the middle of the pool, they glimpsed a razor-sharp grin.

“And now I leave you in the dark,” Valdemar said, and turned away.

“Wait! What exactly is supposed to happen to me in here?” Finch asked, suddenly concerned again.

“That’s the whole experiment,” Valdemar stated. “Examining how the mind reacts when deprived of stimulus… Well, there’s all sorts of delightful possibilities. The schematic suggested that it might induce hallucinations — oh, I do so hope it does induce hallucinations.”

Without another word, Valdemar moved toward the stone archway, and the orange torchlight was extinguished. Finch found themself absolutely alone.

If I died in here, it’s likely that no one would ever find me, they thought. Experimentally, they moved a hand in front of their face. Nothing — their eyes didn’t detect even a hint of movement.

After several more minutes, however, they began to feel their mind calm. The chamber was perfectly silent and still — unlike the rest of the bustling Palace, which Finch was still adjusting to staying in. In the complete dark, it was unexpectedly easy to forget that they were deep underneath the building, trapped in a creepy dungeon.

With the pleasantly warm water beneath their body, Finch noticed the tension in their muscles start to gradually fizzle away. Maybe coming down here wasn’t actually an awful idea, even if this hadn’t been the experience they’d expected.

Just as their body began to truly relax, Finch felt a current of water move underneath them. They braced themself. It’s probably just from whatever mechanism’s warming the pool, they rationalized, trying to keep calm.

Then, something smooth and whip-like brushed against their ankle.

Finch jolted on instinct. They thrashed in the pool, trying to regain their balance, but was thrown off by the sheer buoyancy of the water. Finally, they were able to grasp at the pool’s edge, sputtering and panting raggedly.

There couldn’t be anything living in here, could there? The water was, in fact, too salty — Finch could taste the bitterness of it on their lips.

An idea sprang to mind. Maybe this was one of those hallucinations Valdemar was talking about — one of the results they were hoping for. After a few minutes of no sign of further movement in the water, Finch released their hold on the slippery stone edge.

Slowly, they allowed themselves to drift back out into the center, once more closing their eyes and concentrating on staying calm — a more difficult task now, with their heart pounding in their chest as they floated along the surface.

It had to be just their imagination... but underneath, they felt the water shift again, as though something was rising from the depths.

Finch tensed slightly, taking in a deep breath. Halfway through it, the breath caught in their throat as they felt that soft brush against their ankle once more. They focused more intently this time, trying to ignore it.

Whatever hallucination this was shouldn’t concern them. Hell, this experience might be an opportunity to learn something about themself. What would their mind come up with when left alone in the dark?

There was only one way to find out.

The whip-like appendage slowly began winding around their ankle. Finch shivered, their skin feeling as if it were on fire.

Finch felt their limb pulled, the motion deliberate and almost experimental. Whatever was in the pool with them was behaving in a very intentional manner, ruling the possibility of “sea monster” out of Finch’s mind.

On impulse, Finch opened their eyes, but there was nothing to see but the dark. Briefly, they considered reaching their hand out to try to touch whatever was currently wrapping up their exposed thigh and causing their heart to beat wildly.

For a moment, they stretched out their fingertips, only to release them back into the water. Just hallucinations — that’s what the Quaestor had stated. No point in reaching for something that wasn’t there.

A small gasp escaped Finch as in an abrupt motion, the tendril that gripped their leg began to move upwards, sliding between their legs and over their torso.

The water shifted again, and Finch bit down hard on their lip as they felt another tendril join the prior one, sliding gently between their legs as it did so — and sending an alarming spark of pleasure crackling up their spine.

Finch had started to breathe more heavily, feeling the urge to press their legs together onto the unidentifiable tendril as their toes curled. The prior tentacle that had snaked up between their legs prevented this, though, and so they were left a bit of a panting mess as they drifted in the dark.

Then, several more tendrils erupted from beneath, rippling at the surface of the water. They coiled around each of Finch’s wrists and ankles, seizing them firmly.

The message was clear: stop moving.

More tentacles continued writhing up Finch’s body, wrapping them in a peculiarly soft grip. Their chest, arms and legs were soon wrapped and unwrapped as the appendages below seemed to explore them. Soft touches trailed across their body — trails of fire that made Finch’s face redden more and more with every second.

Just. A. Hallucination! Finch frantically reminded themself, trying and failing not to react.

Finch stifled a moan, their hands balling into fists as the tentacle situated across their nether region pressed down none too lightly, rocking back and forth in an investigative manner.

Their bare skin prickled with sensation, and they once more frantically fought to stifle a cry as a warm glow enveloped them. These were some very vivid hallucinations, Finch frantically tried to justify to themself.

After all, if they weren’t hallucinations, what else could they be? Finch literally couldn’t think of any other possibility… but then again, it was difficult to think at all at the moment.

Finch sensed their face going red as they felt a tentacle lightly wrap about their neck. A soft tip stroked down their jawline, its motions careful and precise, like a doctor making an incision.

Another stroked across their cheek, pushing damp hair off to the side as the slit between their legs began to burn with an absolutely vicious heat. Finch felt trapped and slightly frightened, which apparently was really doing it for them judging by the sensations coursing up and down their body.

The appendages continued to glide over their skin, seemingly keen to explore every inch of Finch that was available. Sparks exploded inside of them as the tips of the soft feelers paused on their nipples, beginning to twist and play with them and leaving Finch feeling ever-so-slightly dazed.

They weren’t sure how long they floated in the dark before the shivering and quaking of their body began to mean they couldn’t possibly hold still a second longer. They twitched and shook in the unyielding embrace of the tentacles that had extended from the depths, their breath coming in shallow gasps.

It was as this happened, their world disappearing into a vision of noiseless pleasure, that a surge of heat swept through them. They gasped, and if sinking in the water had been possible, they were sure they would’ve surrendered to the depths below them.

One by one, Finch felt the tentacles fading away. They slipped from between their legs, and removed themselves from their chest and arms. Finch heard the soft splash of water as what they imagined to be thick writhing shapes disappeared back underneath.

The last one to go was the one that lingered about their neck. With one last caress of their chin, it slowly released, sliding gently back into the depths and leaving them once more floating unhindered in the water.

After a few minutes in the perfectly-still darkness, Finch detected the orange light of the torch in the corner of their eye. As the room swam back into view, they felt themselves become reoriented once more.

Finch looked upwards. Valdemar loomed above them at the edge of the pool, head tilting with curiosity.

“You’re back,” Finch noted, hurriedly getting out of the water and desperately hoping Valdemar didn’t notice how flustered they looked.

“Hmmm? I never left the room,” Valdemar informed them. “After all, I had to examine you during the course of the experiment.”

Finch immediately flushed. What… had they seen?

“And besides,” Valdemar added, cracking a sharp grin. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun in that sensory deprivation pool alone.”

Finch decided that for their own peace of mind, they were not going to ask any further questions on this matter — or think too hard about the worrying implications of what Valdemar had just said.

Instead, they asked another question.

“Quaestor… by any chance, have you ever heard of an event called the ‘Midsummer Masquerade?’”

“Midsummer Masquerade…?” For a moment, Valdemar looked genuinely confused — an unexpected sight.

“Ah. I do recall finding an invitation delivered to my estate — but as a rule of thumb, I don’t attend such events unless my presence is absolutely required. I never opened the envelope,” Valdemar replied with a shrug of their shoulders.

Of… course, Finch thought.

Naked in the cold depths of the dungeon, Finch started putting their clothes back on.

#my first ever lemon #woohoo #vesuviaafterdark #midsummer masquerade #the arcana game #quaestor valdemar #valdemar #mc finch #fanfic #lemon #minors dni #it really is hjallan mating season huh #nightposting

30 notes · View notes

mrstaeminlee · 4 years ago

Text

Mission Complete Ch. 5

You had two goals in life. One: Complete your squad training without dying. Two: Fuck Levi Ackerman

Pairings: Levi/f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, eventual smut, lmk if I need to add anything~

You wouldn't consider yourself a believer in God; you always attributed your good luck to just that with a touch of hard work and a stubborn as hell mindset; yet somehow you found yourself thanking whatever higher power existed as you sat down. By some fucking miracle you had convinced Levi to join you at the bar where you were currently nursing your fourth glass of wine. You weren't completely trashed, but you had definitely forgotten the effect that wine had on you and you were feeling bold as fuck.

"So Cap, what's the plan from here?"

Levi rolled his eyes, taking a long swig from his own glass. He'd opted for whiskey, because 'that shit you're drinking tastes like rotten ass'. "I've told you at least three times since we got here you idiot, once your alcoholic ass drags itself to bed we'll wake up at first light and begin the walk back to camp and hope your horse is smarter than you and ran back to camp. If not, we're fucked."

You pouted. "The fuck I am."

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

You sighed. At this point, you were tired, you were wet -still not in an enjoyable fashion although you had mostly dried off by now-, you were tired, and you were also considerably tipsy next to your captain who also happened to be the subject of each and every one of your graphic sexual fantasies over the past year. In other words, you didn't give one single fuck. "Cap, can I completely honest with you?"

"Aren't you already?"

"Not exactly. Your second in command is in desperate need of a good fucking, and soon."

Levi chuckled, leaning back in his chair. He looked delectable dressed in his casual clothes, he was wearing black pants that fit nice and snug against those juicy ass thighs, and you were certain that the top two buttons of his white shirt had been buttoned when you walked into the bar. "Is that so? What are you, fifteen?"

"I'll have you know that I'm a spritely young twenty eight year old, thank you very much."

The captain scoffed, finishing off his glass and waving to the barmaid for refills for the both of you. "That's even more pitiful. You should consider having some actual priorities instead of spending your time fantasizing about such a filthy activity."

You had just finished taking a long swig from your glass when all of a sudden that vital, precious information Christa had let slip decided to waltz its way back into your brain, and before you could stop it a big, stupid smile spread across your face. Taking another drink as to not alarm the captain, you decided now was as good a time as any to have a little bit of fun. "Aw come on. Even a clean freak like you has to appreciate a good lay every now and then. Sure, things can get a little hot and dirty, but don't you think it's worth it?" Your voice dripped down to almost a purr at the end, and you felt a delicious shiver run up your arms at the way Levi began to look mildly uncomfortable.

His silence only fueled your drunken bravery and you dared to scoot a little bit closer, resting your arm along the table and even being so bold as to make sure your breasts were nice and pushed up against the table. "Don't get shy now, cap, you don't have to keep secrets from me," you cooed, mirth making your body feel weightless as he desperately downed the rest of his drink while waving for yet another refill. How many had he had now, six? Seven? Surely he would be feeling something by now. "You're downing that whiskey like water, you sure the bar has enough stocked to keep you satisfied?"

Levi shrugged, raising his eyebrows in thanks as more drinks were placed in front of you two. "I've told you a million times, you know I hate that name. And it takes a lot more than a few glasses of whiskey to get me drunk. You, on the other hand, look like you've about had enough," he tried to make his voice seem stern, but it was pretty fucking hard looking at that flushed face and those tits just begging to burst out of that shirt. It didn't help that he'd plowed through eight glasses of whiskey trying to distract himself, and they had chosen this precise moment to hit him with their full effects.

"Then what should I call you then? Captain just sounds boooooooring."

You grinned then, downing the last of your wine. "Am I cool enough to call you by just your name? Levi?" You tested his name on your tongue, expecting it to taste different by speaking it in front of him. You licked your lips as if to savor the taste. "Leeeeeviiiii," you repeated slowly, giggling and bringing a hand up to cover your mouth.

Levi visibly straightened the moment you said his name, cursing himself for finishing his drink as he now had nothing to cover the pathetic cough that left his throat. He tried to ignore the flush that warmed its way up his neck, the way your name sounded from your lips curling in his ears and giving him goosebumps. He cleared his throat once more, trying to regain his sense of dignity before he did something that he knew he wouldn't regret, but also probably would.

"Come on, you go cool off outside while I pay the tab, it's getting late and we need to sleep this off before we head back."

You clumsily threw your bag over your shoulder, humming a made up tune as you made your way outside. The air was cold but the alcohol dulled your discomfort. You took a look around the block, it was dark and empty, with almost everyone in bed by now. You had no idea what time it was but based on the fact that the sky was almost pitch black you surmised you two had spent quite a bit of time drinking. You were jolted out of your daydreaming by Levi suddenly appearing beside you, rolling his eyes.

"Tch. You dumbass. Your nose is bright pink, why didn't you bring a jacket? You're going to die if you don't start taking better care of yourself," he chided, sliding off his own black jacket and all but throwing it at you.

You greedily slipped your arms into it, your thirst returning with a vengeance as you reveled in the fact that you were wearing Levi's jacket. His scent filled your nostrils, the warmth from his body that clung to the jacket blanketing your skin and in that moment you really did feel like a fifteen year old girl because you swore your heart had been beating at a normal pace just a second ago. "Well I never took you to be such a gentleman Mr. Ackerman," you quipped, mimicking the way you heard the rich people within the walls talk. Thankful for being able to blame your pink cheeks on the cold, you let the wine control your actions as you linked your arms with his, giggling again at his surprised grunt.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Why, I'm allowing you to escort me to my sleeping quarters of course!" You announced, taking note that he had made no attempt to unlink your arms. You walked in a comfortable silence the short walk to the hotel, giving a hearty salute to the young man at the desk. You begrudgingly pulled away when he stopped in front of your room, pausing for a moment before reaching to slip his jacket off your shoulders.

"Don't."

You halted for a moment, meeting his eyes. "Don't what?"

You were beginning to feel surprisingly sober now.

Levi awkwardly cleared his throat again, and you didn't even have the heart to tease him about it. "Th-The jacket," your eyes widened at his voice. Did the great Captain Levi just stutter? "Just keep it for now. You can wear it on the way back and give it to me when we return to headquarters," he felt another wave of heat creep up his neck and he clenched his jaw. "B-Besides, it's filthy now, don't give it back until you've cleaned it properly." Jesus Christ since when did he fucking stutter all the time?

You stayed quiet, your hands lowering themselves to rest at your sides.

You were drunk.

You felt completely sober.

You took in his eyes, his face, his body.

Before you could talk yourself out of it you reached forward, grabbing his hand in yours, and you both sucked in a breath at the feeling of your skin finally touching.

You kept your eyes trained on his, wondering where you had found the courage to muster up the words about to leave your mouth.

"Come inside, Levi."

tags: @levisbebe, @dannylothbrok, @sueshiishell, @anackermangirl, @ackermanluvr

64 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 4 years ago

Text

the assistant | doyoung (m)

title: the assistant pairing: sub!doyoung x black!reader genre: smut request: “Sub Doyoung that works under a (Black) woc as an assistant. He gets turned on when she bosses him around and ends up in a situation where he can’t hide his feelings anymore. Hopefully it’s a smut.” word count: 4.5k warnings: oral (female receiving), handjob, dirty talk, public masturbation/sexual activities, humiliation kink *without insulting names*, dom!female/sub!male a/n: this came out a bit longer than i expected. the title’s a bit generic but the other one i had felt corny. i hope i didn’t make the reader too mean here lol

Taking a job as your assistant over a year and a half ago was both an easy and hard decision—though mostly easy.

Doyoung needed the money, so he wasn’t going to turn down the offer. And he had the skills for it, which he wasn’t going to let go to waste. But he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the prospect of being sexually attracted to his boss.

It wasn’t just your looks, although they certainly helped. It was your air of authority and the way you knew how to get people to like you or do whatever you requested of them. There was practically no one you were afraid to call out if necessary, regardless if they were a lower-level employee or a fellow boss at the firm. You liked things to be done a certain way, and you wasted little time with hesitating like many others on the job did when they needed a task completed.

He could tell your demeanor from that first interview, and it made him sweat. It pleased him and compelled him to achieve whatever he could during the hiring process to get close to you. Doyoung found it hard to get you off his mind, thinking about you from the time he left that interview to the hour before he fell asleep that night. He was undeniably pleased when he got the job, but even more happy that he’d be getting to work for someone like you.

Doyoung is a smart man, and he takes pride in a job well done. However...he’s not above making the occasional mistake just to hear you reprimand him. Nothing big enough to seriously impact your business, and never too often, or you’d probably have him kicked out. But every once in a while, he lets something “slip” his careful eye so he can hear your irritated voice or see your pretty eyes roll.

Sometimes he thinks he might be one of the strangest men on Earth to get enjoyment from things that would normally make others feel embarrassed and upset, but he doesn’t mind it too much. He knows what he likes, which is at least more than many others can say.

He’s not sure what he’d do if you knew about his secret, or about how he feels things specifically for you that an employee should never feel towards their boss. But he’ll continue to indulge as long as he can keep it to himself.

“I hope you’re ready for the presentation today.” You tell Doyoung this as you both take the elevator to your department floor. The only practical answer you expect is a yes, and he knows this. Thankfully for him, he’s not one to disappoint. “You’ve organized all the data I sent over to you and added it to the presentation, right?”

“Of course. Have I ever failed you?”

You sigh, raising your eyebrows. “Those errors on your reports say otherwise, no matter how small they are. Don’t get too cocky about your track record yet, everyone messes up sooner or later.”

“Sounds like you don’t have any faith in me.” Doyoung laughs.

“Doyoung. If I didn’t have any faith in you, I wouldn’t have hired you.” You pat his shoulder good-naturedly, and he relishes that touch for a moment. “But I also know how humans work.” You both walk off the elevator when it finally stops, and Doyoung acknowledges a few people who pass by, though his eyes are always subtly drawn back to you.

The conference room is almost full with the other bosses and higher-ups who have gathered for today’s meeting. It’s a panel, so there will be a few more people who go before and after you.

When it’s your turn to go up, you take the USB Doyoung’s given you with the presentation on it.

The first few slides look as they should, which you pretty much expected, but you’re still glad to see that Doyoung got everything right.

You flip to the next slide of the presentation for the data and start going through it, but you quickly realize that something is wrong. None of the numbers match what you remember reviewing for this year’s report. You stop and blink for a few moments, trying to register what you’re seeing. Doyoung sits up in his chair, and his body goes stiff as he realizes his mistake. He knows for sure he imported the data into the PowerPoint, but he must not have been paying enough attention to which data he was using; all of this information is from last year.

There are a few disgruntled sounds from the meeting attendees, some born from secondhand embarrassment, others confusion, and some others annoyance. You clasp your hands together, putting on a fake smile as you regard the other members of the room. “Well...looks like there’s been a mistake.”

The meeting organizer speaks up. “We can continue on with the others and schedule your segment for another day. We’re all on a tight schedule right now, so I’m afraid there isn’t enough time to do this over today.” He gives you a regretful look, and you nod in response. You just hope you don’t get reprimanded for it too badly later.

Doyoung is sweating bullets when you return to your seat next to him. He glances over at you, though he can’t look you directly in the eye. You don’t even give him a glance back, instead keeping your eyes straight ahead on the next person’s presentation. He doesn’t need you to look at him, though; he already knows from your posture and energy that you’re pissed.

The rest of the meeting goes by fast. Maybe too fast. Everyone starts talking among themselves and packing up their things to leave, and you go to the organizer to set another date for your presentation. Doyoung waits until you’re finished with the other man before daring to approach you.

He stumbles over his words as he tries to speak. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

You give him a look and brush him off as neutrally as you can without drawing the attention of the others filing out of the room.“Let’s talk in my office.”

The walk to your office seems to last forever, though it’s only a minute or two in actuality. Doyoung doesn’t know what to think—will you decide to get rid of him? This is the first major mistake he’s made, but he is not so confident that you’ll be very forgiving with the past errors he’s made.

“Close the door behind you,” you say when you finally get in the office. Doyoung does as instructed and only sits down after you gesture for him to take the chair in front of your desk. After you’re both settled, you sigh and put your head in your hands.

You keep that position for a while, which makes him nervous. He isn’t sure if he’s supposed to speak first, so he keeps quiet and waits to see what you’ll do.

Possibly the weirdest part of all this is the thread of excitement that still pulses through him. He’s anxious to know what you’ll say to him, whether good or bad. He’s not ecstatic at the thought of losing his job, no, but he also can’t deny that he likes hearing you raise your voice at him.

You lift your head to look at him, and he feels immobilized underneath your gaze. “I should have you fired, you know that?” He tenses at that. “After making such a huge mistake in front of the upper management, and having to reschedule the damn meeting…everyone spent their precious time coming out here today, pulling themselves away from their own busy schedules...”

Your words make Doyoung panic a bit on the inside, yet they also stoke the fires of his attraction to you. He curses himself in his head. He’s usually better than this at keeping himself under control, but something about your pointed anger today is speaking directly to a deep part of him.

“Whenever I tell you to do something related to the job, you should do it.”

“I know, o-of course. It was a mistake, but—”

“But? Did you really not realize the information you had was from last year?”

“I-it slipped my attention.” Doyoung can feel heat creeping up his neck, but also rushing farther down below the belt. He’s only seen you this upset before on a few other occasions, and none of them were directed at him. He’s a little ashamed to say that it’s still turning him on, though he also realizes the gravity of his mistake. “I know I can’t make up for what’s already happened, but I’ll do better.”

“You definitely will do better, because you’re staying overtime to fix it.” He figured that much. “There’s not enough time to deal with this mess now.” You sit back in your desk chair, crossing your arms. “Don’t look so anxious about it. I’m still pissed at you, obviously, but I’m not letting you go. There are a lot of fools around here, and I don’t need any of them trying to become my assistant if you leave.”

Doyoung’s shoulders deflate a little from the relief he feels at that, with some of the built-up tension leaving his body. There is still another uncomfortable problem left, though—the bulge in his pants. His face turns redder with the knowledge that he’s gotten hard in front of you, with the only thing to hide it being the folder of documents he’s holding.

You lean over the desk a little, examining your assistant closely. “Doyoung, you’re turning beet red. The hell? Are you getting sick or something?”

“N-no! I’m not sick, really.” His hands tighten around the folder as he says this, and he tries to look at you as nonchalantly as he can manage, though the eye contact still sends his pulse throbbing.

You stare at him for a few more seconds, trying to read him and getting nothing but more nervousness. “You know what…” You shake your head. “Just go home early and do your overtime tomorrow. You clearly need a break to pull yourself together.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I don’t need you messing up any more of my work if you’re this flustered. Go on, go.”

Doyoung nods, wondering how he’s going to get out of the chair without making it too obvious that he’s sprung a hard-on from your reprimands. You sigh and press your fingers to your temples for a long moment, and he takes this opportunity to stand up and try to zip out of the room before you can open your eyes again.

“Wait. Give me the folder.”

He freezes with his back to you.

“The-the folder?”

“Yes, Doyoung, that folder you’re holding right there.” You roll your eyes. “Come on. Don’t you need to be getting home?”

“Right, yes…” Doyoung hesitates for a moment longer before passing the folder to you, then he quickly covers himself by crossing his hands in front of his crotch. The movement isn’t as natural as he’d like it to be. You raise an eyebrow at his stiff demeanor, but you don’t say anything immediately. He takes that as his cue to escape, and he goes to the door as calmly as possible.

“Remember your overtime tomorrow,” you call out as he opens the door to your office. He turns his head to look back at you, nodding in response. He can’t read the expression on your face, and he doesn’t stick around much longer to find out what you could possibly be thinking.

Once Doyoung gathers his things, he sneaks off to the men’s bathroom. His hands shake a little as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, pulling his hard cock out and gripping his shaft tightly. A tiny moan slips out, though he quickly silences his voice as he begins stroking himself.

All your words from earlier circle around in his head as he gets himself off, his breaths labored and echoing slightly around the walls of the bathroom stall. He imagines that you’re the one pleasuring him, your fingers wrapping around his dick as you laugh at how hard and desperate he is for you. Maybe if he’s good, you’ll let him cum in your mouth.

He’s learned how to get himself off quickly and quietly in the work bathrooms by now, so it only takes a few more minutes before he’s spilling over his fingers, the sound of your name passing through his lips almost inaudibly. After he cleans himself up and flushes the toilet, he spends a few more minutes in the stall to calm his mind and take some deep breaths.

“Ugh…fuck,” he mumbles to himself. The thought of doing overtime doesn’t thrill him, and he still feels shitty about making such a big mistake, but there’s nothing left to do except fix his errors.

Friday goes like any other workday, and Doyoung doesn’t notice anything unusual from you that would’ve indicated you knew what his “problem” was yesterday. He’s a little relieved about that, but he’s still not reassured enough to disregard the incident.

The day passes by more quickly than Doyoung would like, and soon it’s already time for regular office hours to end��and his extra work to begin. He seats himself at his desk, nodding goodbye to the last few coworkers who straggle out of the room. He didn’t see you leave your office, but he figures you must already be gone because the room is dark.

For a few minutes, it’s just Doyoung working by himself. He’s barely gotten started with the bulk of the document fixes when he hears rustling and a door opening. He wonders if it’s someone else doing overtime or somebody who forgot their belongings. What he doesn’t expect to see is you walking towards his desk.

“I thought you were going home?” Doyoung asks, looking up at you curiously. His hands pause over the keys.

“I am; don’t think I want to stay here all night. But I need to talk to you about something first.” You cross your arms, looking at Doyoung from behind his computer monitor.

A cold sweat breaks out on his skin, though he tries to keep his face neutral. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Your behavior after the presentation yesterday. In my office.”

As he thought, there was no way he could’ve hidden it or gotten away with it. He hangs his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y/N, please. Forgive—”

“Wait. Let me finish first.”

Doyoung stops talking immediately. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and watches you carefully to see what you’ll do.

“I have enough sense to figure out that you were far from sick, but I sent you away to save us both the embarrassment of you nutting in your pants.” His fingers twitch at your words, but he remains silent as he wearily waits for you to continue speaking. At this point, he’s unsure which direction this will go in; will you decide to go ahead and fire him after you said you wouldn’t? Will you scold him and then pretend like none of it ever happened? “You’re crazy as hell, you know that?”

He can’t meet your eyes anymore and instead looks at where his hands still rest on the desk. He stays quiet, mostly because he’s unsure how to respond in any justifiable way.

“You’re acting like a scared puppy now, but you were pretty damn shameless yesterday. Getting hard in front of your boss, really?” You reach out to him. He doesn’t know what your intention is, but he surely doesn’t anticipate you grabbing his tie. You’re not even trying to pull him closer; you simply hold the fabric in your hand, passing your thumb over its patterns. “Do you think any of that was appropriate?” you ask, your voice calm.

“N-no, it’s not.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you practically sprinting to the bathroom, too. Are you gonna tell me what you did in there, or do I have to guess?”

Doyoung’s cheeks are blazing again, and he can hardly believe that you’re questioning him like this, or that he’s actually about to admit to it.

“I...I, um. I...jerked off.”

“Jerked off to the thought of me. Right?” He can only nod, keeping his eyes firmly on your hand—which is still holding his tie—instead of your face. “And do you think that’s appropriate?” He shakes his head no.

“Good answer. But you’ve also forgotten that I can do what I want, too. Do you think it’s fair that you’re the only one around here who gets to have any fun?” Now you pull him closer, and you lean forward to meet him halfway. The implications of your words have him risking a glance up at you, surprised that this is your answer.

“Fun?”

Any other thought he might have promptly disappears when you kiss him. He’s taken entirely off guard by your actions, and with his walls down, he lets a particularly needy moan slip out. He likes the feel of your lipstick smearing slightly against his mouth, and most of all, your lips themselves.

Doyoung is embarrassed to be getting hard from a single kiss, but whenever it comes to you, he’s gotten it up for much less. Now that he’s had this one taste of contact, he wants you to touch him more, wherever you see fit. It doesn’t much matter as long as your hands are on him in some way. He leans forward minutely, kissing you a little deeper and wanting to push his tongue into your warm mouth.

You part from him as soon as you feel him push closer, though you still keep a grip on his tie. “This is gonna go my way. Got it? If you don’t want this, say it now and I’ll leave.”

“No, I—stay, please. I want this.” His voice comes out more pleadingly than he meant for it to, but he realizes he’s not really concerned about that as long as you understand how much he really does want this.

You move away from Doyoung and he’s momentarily alarmed that you’re going to leave anyway, but you only shrug your coat off and step out of your heels, leaving them strewn on the office floor. You push him away from the desk in his rolling chair so there’s enough space for you to enter his cubicle and sit comfortably on his desk.

Doyoung’s eyes drop to your legs, which are shiny and smooth under your skirt and most likely just as soft as they look. “Get out of the chair and on your knees,” you tell him. He does so, and you kick the rolling chair away so it’s just you and Doyoung, you sitting on his desk and him kneeling in front of you.

“If you want to make up to me for that embarrassment yesterday, you’ll have to do a lot more than fixing a presentation.” You spread your legs a bit, your skirt riding up as you do, and Doyoung’s eyes hyperfocus on the gift that’s waiting between your thighs. His mouth waters a bit at the thought of finally getting to taste you. “So, don’t keep me waiting. Like I said, I’m not staying here all night.”

Doyoung nods and brings his hands up to the sides of your thighs, feeling buzzed at how he’s touching you in a place he’s never been before. He’d like to take his time peeling off your blouse and skirt, exposing your nude form to his mouth and hands and cock that would like to do nothing but worship you, but he hasn’t been given that much permission. So he keeps within his boundaries and hikes your skirt up more so he can reach your underwear to pull it off.

Your underwear, to his surprise, already has a considerable wet spot on it. It makes his dick throb to know you’re as eager for this as he is, even if you don’t necessarily express it. When you notice him staring at your panties, you grab the hand that’s holding your garments and push it into his face, making him smell your scent. “If you like it so much…”

The smell of you appeals to him on a visceral, primal level. His hands return to your thighs with renewed enthusiasm, gripping your body and pulling you closer to his wanting mouth.

The first stroke of his tongue between your lips makes you shudder, and it makes Doyoung moan out loud. He pushes his tongue into you as his nose nudges your clit, wanting to have more of you as you leak onto him. You grab his hair, though not hard enough to hurt, as you push his face closer into you and arch your hips up.

He responds to your actions by bringing his mouth back up to your clit, enveloping it and sucking it fervently. He doesn’t think to bring his fingers into the mix, as consumed as he is with simply tasting you right now, and your body’s reaction says you are more than content with letting him work his mouth on you.

“Doyoung…” The way you speak his name is surprisingly gentle, much unlike he’s heard anyone else say it before—even previous lovers. Maybe he believes it to be so because of how wrapped up he is in you. He tries not to read into it and get his hopes up, instead focusing on pleasuring you.

His cock strains uncomfortably against his pants, though he ignores it to keep licking into you. There seems to be no limit to how much wetness he can coax out of you. The small cubicle, and the office itself, is quiet except for the subdued hum of computer machinery and Doyoung’s mouth sucking your pussy.

The muscles in your legs flex underneath his fingertips as you get closer to releasing. Your hand slips to the back of his neck, caressing the heated skin there as Doyoung pushes you higher and higher until you’re cumming in his mouth. Your legs tense and try to close around his head as you moan softly, and Doyoung accepts the sensation of being caged in by you. Everything down here is hot and wet and delicious.

You are satisfied and properly spent after your climax, but Doyoung is still hard and you’re not quite done playing with him yet. “Stand up.”

He does so and watches with bated breath as you undo his pants and bring his dick out. It’s already dripping precum and flushed with arousal, but you decide that isn’t enough lubrication and carefully spit on his member to make your strokes smoother. His knees almost give way at seeing your pretty mouth so close to his dick, and he has to grab onto the cubicle wall to steady himself.

“Y/N…” His voice shakes as he speaks your name. Your hand moving across his shaft seems too good to be true, and he wants so much for you to take him into your mouth or even let him press in between your legs. But he certainly can’t deny that being touched this way is ridiculously good, too. You only concentrate on his dick for a little while, but your eyes soon venture up to his face, with his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat.

“Do you like that?”

“I-I do. So much.”

“So easily satisfied, aren’t you…” you murmur, not really caring if he replies or not. You grip him a little more tightly, and he can hardly stop the whimper that results from it. “What do you do when you’re at home? Nevermind—I bet you hug your pillow and jack yourself off thinking it’s me. How embarrassing, Doyoung.”

You continue on, stroking him faster all the while. “Seriously, when’s the last time you had a warm body? You’re so sensitive.” You slide your thumb over the slit of his cock, and he reacts by pushing his hips closer to you and moaning loudly. There’s no one left on this floor but you two, so he isn’t too afraid of being vocal here. “Don’t tell me you’ve been holding out for me. Maybe I‘ll let you fuck me someday, though...you seem like the kind of man who knows what to do with a wet pussy, don’t you?”

You can guess when he’s about to come from his increasingly loud moans and how he has to hold your shoulder to keep himself upright. When Doyoung finally climaxes, you angle his dick so his cum splashes all over his shirt and suit jacket. You don’t stop stroking him until he whines out loud and nudges your hand away from his overstimulated cock. Some of his cum has dripped on your hand, too, and you wipe that on his pants. Lucky for you—and not so lucky for him—he‘s wearing light gray today.

It takes him a minute to recover from his orgasm, and you watch him with a devious smile as he regains his senses. You’re even more delighted when he looks down and sees the mess he’s made of himself.

“Y/N, my clothes…” You’re already standing up from the desk and pulling your underwear back on, along with your coat and shoes.

“That’s too bad, isn’t it? Gonna stain, too. You’ll have to walk out of here like that, and let’s not forget how you always take the subway on Fridays to save gas money.” Once you’ve tidied yourself back up, you give him another pitiful look. “Well, see you at work on Monday, okay?”

Doyoung can only watch your retreating figure as you walk to the elevator and get on, giving him one last amused wave before disappearing to the ground floor.

Perhaps the wildest part of it all, despite his soiled clothes and the night of work still ahead of him, is that he’d do it all over again if you asked.

223 notes · View notes

honestlyzenoouh · 4 years ago

Text

Aaron Goes Big Instead Of Home (And Poor Kevin Dies A Bit Inside)

This fic is also on AO3 if you prefer to read over there :)

This was all Neils fault, 100% the little assholes fault. It was a simple bet, a very small one indeed. The fact that Neil even agreed to the bet, should have tipped Aaron off from the very start. But sadly, Aaron is nothing but a salty bitch when it comes to Neil, and the fact the bet involved his brother was even better. He could kill two, no actually tree birds with one tiny victory. Convince his brother that his relationship with Neil was nothing but loveless sex, prove Neil wrong whilst also getting to humiliate him. Win win win.

Teeny tiny flaw in his plan though. Neil won. Neil actually got Andrew to casually display relationship like PDA. With Andrew initiating. Holding hands, kisses goodbye, softly touching hips to get by each other, the whole shebang. Fuck. Damnit. Crap. He wasn’t suppose to readily showcase his emotions towards Neil, he was suppose to prove to both Aaron and himself that the relationship was a fad, and let it fizzle out like his and Katelyns. Okay, he might have been a little bit bitter, as well as the usual annoyance Neil brings out in him, when he made the bet. Whatever.

So here Aaron stood, almost exactly six months after the bet started, in Katelyn’s bathroom just looking at the offending clothes. Katelyn and him might have broken up, but they still consider each other their platonic soulmates. The sex kinda spelled that out for them, not really enjoyable for either of them. Katelyn found out she definitely was on the asexual spectrum, where sex was only enjoyable for her sometimes. When they first got together she had laid all the cards on the table, and told him her feelings about sex, and Aaron had been very understanding and patient with her. It took a long time for their relationship to turn physical, other than the casual kissing and hand holding, and in the two and a half years they had been together, actual sex had only happened a handful of times. And only one of those times had been somewhat satisfactory for both of them.

It was after the last time they had sex, one of the worse experiences for both of them, that Katelyn suggested they might be right for each other. Aaron had wanted to argue with her, wanted to be hurt she would say such a thing, but Aaron had been having the same thoughts for a while before. Because while Katelyn might be asexual, Aaron sure as fuck wasn’t. He got urges and fantasies, and whilst he understood Katelyn didn’t, he also knew it wasn’t her fault they weren’t clicking right sexually. So they mutually decided that they might be better of as best friends instead of partners, but weren’t ready to tell people. Katelyn wasn’t ready to come out, and Aaron would like to keep his pride and not be pitied.

(The sexual identity crisis that sprung forwards in Aaron when he actually realized that it was not only Katelyn that didn’t find pleasure in their sex life is not to be spoken about. Internalized homophobia and too much alcohol doesn’t mix, too many tears, understanding Nickys, and not nearly enough answers. Whatever, he has time to figure it out when the time is right.)

The uniforms material felt way too heavy in his hands, considering it was only a two piece, yet it was surprisingly soft. He guessed that’s what happens if you actually use fabric softener, but what was he suppose to know? He didn’t care enough about his clothes to spend the extra cash on that shit. Katelyn does though, or whoever she borrowed the clothes from did.

He shifted the fabric around his fingers and actively considered forfeiting his dare. However the mere thought of letting Neil win even more, made him visible recoil and slightly nauseas. Fuck that, a thousand times over. A simple knock on the door and a voice asking if he was okay in there, got him out of his staring contest with the outfit, and mumble something even he wasn’t sure what meant.

Taking a deep breath he finally shimmed out of his pants, and pulled the undergarment of the uniform on. A bit shorter than he was used to, but not too bad. Taking off his hoodie and replacing it with the top, made it all a bit much, and way too real. He’s gonna lose his dignity as well as his masculinity to this. The bright orange Vixens uniform sat tight against his chest, but flowed nicely the rest of the way down. Turning a bit this way and that, he got to study his whole body. His ass which normally was kinda flat, popped a bit with the skirt accentuating its shape flatteringly. His shoulder and biceps got the same treatment with the tanktop’s broad straps. So maybe not all masculinity is lost to this. Gathering a bit of his spite for Neil, and general courage, he finally unlocked the door. Finding his last fucks to give after a couple of more moments, he also opened the door. Luckily, it was only Katelyn waiting for him. She moved her head from her phone and smiled from her upside down position on the couch.

“You good?” She simply asked him. Kneading the fabric of the skirt, and pulling at it a bit he nodded.

“As good as I’m gonna get, wearing a skirt because of a stupid fucking bet. I’m so stupid.” Pulling a bit more on the skirt, he looked around. “Where are the others? I just really wanna get this over and done with” Katelyn helpfully pointed downward, hopefully meaning Fox Towers third floor and not the parking lot. Sighing and looking at her with tense shoulders, a question all by it self, she only raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. Obviously not the parking lot, who did he think she was? A monster? Him lifting one of his now unclenched shoulders, no, but you do enjoy to slightly bullying me, so why not. Katelyn snorted and finally got up from the couch.

“I thought about it, not going to lie to you, but your face when I gave you the uniform made me reconsider. You looked like a kicked puppy, it was so sad.” Aaron grunted to make his displeasure know, but followed her to the front door. He only hesitated a bit going through, so little only people who really knew him would realize. Luckily, (or unluckily, depending on how you view it) Katelyn was one of those very few people, and she put an arm around his shoulders for comfort. Together they walked the short way to stairs and down the two flights from fifth to the third floor, thankfully without running into anyone. The hallway of the third floor also blessedly empty, gave Aaron a false sense of fortitude. Holding on to it, until it became as genuine as it’s gonna be, he looked up to Katelyn, “Which room?”

After a quick glance at her phone, she nodded towards the upperclassmen’s room. Great, so Neil roped the whole team together to witness this. Fucker. Shaking off the rest of his nerves, he shrugged off Katelyn’s arm and walked up to the door. Opening and stepping inside made his heart start pounding, but nothing happened. Literally nobody was even looking at him, or acknowledging his presence at all. All eyes seem to be on his twin, currently laying face down on the floor. “This is the worst day of my life” came muffled from the floor. Looking from face to face, Aaron finally made eye contact with someone. Sadly that someone was Neil.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Aaron silently dared him to comment. Unable to backdown, Neil did just that. “Okay Minyard, that’s a bit low, even for you” Nodding towards Aarons chest area whilst he said so, made Aaron look down at the v-neck. Sure it was a bit deep, considering his lack of boobs, but it wasn’t that bad. The v stopped at about the middle of his chest, pale blond hairs exposed to world for once. Bracing himself once again for all the attention that was bound to come his way, now that Neil had spoken to him, he took another step into the room, Katelyn right behind him. But still, all eyes except for Neils’ were on his twin as an unenthusiastic “fuck you” came from the floor. This time it was Neil that raised an eyebrow, want to make a game of this? Aaron nodded once, intrigued with this whole situation.

“Seriously A, isn’t this a bit over the top?” Neil gestured a bit with his hands, presumably meaning the Vixens uniform. Fair question, when the forfeit only specified a skirt. But Aaron kinda lived by go big or go home, and when he asked Katelyn if he could borrow a skirt, and the only thing she had he would be able to fit in was the uniform he said fuck it. To answer Neils question he nodded towards Katelyn, who gave a tiny wave. A look of understanding crossed his face when an answer came from the floor. “This is a perfectly reasonable reaction” This startled a laugh out of Nicky, and made Kevin look up from Andrew towards Neil. When he saw him looking nowhere near Andrew he followed Neils eyesight and caught sight of Aaron. His eyes widened and he stood stock still, but not a noise or word passed through him. Aaron didn’t get the time to analyze that particular reaction, as Neil once more spoke up.

“Right, sure. Kevin, what is your take on the situation? I mean, he only lost a bet, isn’t that a bit overly dramatic?” The mischievous grin he wore didn’t bore well for Aaron. He knew something Aaron didn’t, that fucker. When all Kevin seemed able of answering was a stuttery mess, the foxes finally shifted their attention away from Andrew, most likely to laugh at Kevins inability to talk. Yet, once they saw Kevins now slightly awed expression, and both his and Neils direction of sight, they subsequently came to look in Aarons direction.

What followed was probably the most awkward five seconds of Aarons life. It started as a stunned silence, which was broken by Kevin sadly saying “This is a very bad time to have an identity crisis.”, after that all hell seemed to break loose. Nicky and Allison were actively trying to get Kevin to elaborate on that, and close some bets for them. Matt and Dan were looking at each other, and then at Aaron seemingly trying to work out how best to approach the situation. The new foxes tried to gently blend into the background and disappear with no luck. Only Renee was brave enough to face him. “Hello Aaron, I like your outfit. Is this a new thing we might see more often?”

The innocent question floored Aaron for a bit, and shut the foxes up again. Sure he was still trying to figure out his sexuality, but his gender identity was never a question for him. But now that he was thinking about it, he didn’t actually mind wearing the skirt. Sure it wasn’t completely comfortable, but it was a sports uniform. His own was made of the same kinda fabric and had the same feel, so he was use to that. But if he found a more modest skirt in more comfortable fabric, he didn’t think he’d mind it all that much. I did make his ass pop. Really thinking about that fact made his brain momentarily shut down. Once rebooted he looked Renee in the eyes and answered

“I don’t, I don’t think so? I mean, I’m not sure? It might? Can I get back to you on that one?” Trying to be more open with foxes had been a thing he’s been working on as a new years resolution, but here two months later, it was still really hard. Admitting that hurt a little. Shifting his attention towards Neil again he suddenly realized something. “You didn’t tell them did you?”

“No, I didn’t actually think you would go through with it.” He shrugged his shoulders and smirked at Aaron

“Tell us what?” Came from floor. Andrew had finally decided to join the conversation, apparently. He had only turned his face from directly down, to towards Aaron at the door. He didn’t seem too judgmental, only a bit confused. Ever since Bee had finally convinced Andrew to try a new type of medication, to treat his bipolar disorder and depression, Andrew had become a whole new person. A much more readable person, but you still can’t be a 100% sure with him.

“I made a bet with Neil, and obviously lost. So my punishment was to go out of my comfort zone in the clothes department, considering and I quote; I bitch so much about his. I thought a skirt was the most out there for me. Why are you lying on floor?” Ah, the dreaded communication they needed to better. They were getting there, albeit slowly. Bee helped a lot.

“Andrew got cocky about his biceps, and Matt challenged it with an arm wrestle match. As you can probably guess, Andrew lost.” Dan cheerfully informed from beside Matt, who looked rightfully smug. This made Andrew turn downwards agin and groan sadly. “I benchpress more than any of you” was spoken into the floor. This made the foxes laugh once more. Aaron shuffled a bit from foot to foot, and made the tactful decision to leave with all the focus on his brother. He technically did do the forfeit after all. Get out of his comfort zone and show at least 4 different foxes. Whether it was individually or in a group was up to him.

When he got to his room and about to close the door, he got stopped by a hand on the frame. A very uncomfortable looking Kevin was the owner of said hand. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, and took a big breath, but didn’t say anything. He then got into motion and just walked into the room. Well then. “What do you want Kevin?” Crossing his arm across his chest, Aaron “patiently” awaited an answer.

“Go on date. Me with. I mean, uuuhhh” Aaron’s brain shut down once more, and this time the reboot apparently took a little too long, because when he refocused in on Kevin once more the man was fidgeting. Which wasn’t something Aaron had ever seen him do. What the fuck was happening here? Was Kevin actually asking him out? And more importantly, why was he asking him out? As far as Kevin was concerned, him and Katelyn was still happily together. He tried to come up with an answer, but Kevin’s flickering eyes threw him off. They kept going from his face to the skirt and then landing on the v neckline. It was almost a pattern. His eyes went from the skirt to his face again when he suddenly spoke up again.

“You need to change. I just. I can’t think, and I really want to talk to you, because I overheard Nicky one time, but I don’t really know if it was just Nicky being Nicky or if it’s actually true. I did ask him but he shut down and wouldn’t even look at me for three days after, so I don’t know for sure. So can you make me think? I mean change. Pl- if you could be as kind.”

Aaron thought he nodded before he turned and walked in to the dorms bedroom, but he honestly wasn’t sure. So many thoughts swirled around in his head, made it hard to concentrate on getting changed. Had Nicky really been so careless he accidentally outed him? It was with Nicky he had had his sexuality revelation and cry with, that cursed night after a Trip to Eden.

It had been a few weeks after Katelyn and him had called it off relationship wise, and Aaron had been having these weird feelings and his mind kept supplying him with these random observation. Objectively speaking, your Chemistry 102 TA is attractive. His sharp cheekbones and plumb lips are attractive features to have. The boy sitting across from you smells nice, wonder what cologne he uses? The man behind the counter at the coffee shop had really nice eyes. They were a warm brown you could get a little lost in.

He had just crossed the doorway into the house when the thought hit him. What if the reason that sex with Katelyn wasn’t satisfying for him, wasn’t because of the fact that Katelyn was asexual and weren’t as in to it as he was, but because she was a girl? What if the reason he seemingly couldn’t have as good an orgasm with a partner then alone, was because he had the wrong gendered partner. He had had earlier girlfriends in high school, both before and after Andrew had arrived, but he always seemed to excuse the bad sex as inexperience. But what if it wasn’t?

That had floored Aaron completely, and he had taken a stuttered breath and stumbled to the couch so he could sit down. Nobody seemed to pay him any mind, hopefully just chalking it up to drunken behavior, not the life revelation it had been. Neil and Andrew hadn’t been drinking that night, and they wasted no time bringing their things up to Andrew’s bedroom to go to bed. Kevin had stayed at Palmetto to spend the weekend with his father, but Nicky had bargained with Andrew for them to go to Columbia anyway, and gotten his way somehow. (Aaron hadn’t asked, didn’t really want to know.) When they arrived at Eden he had all but begged Aaron to drink with him. So Aaron had matched him drink for drink, and actually had a good time. He even danced a bit with a random person with a pixie cut and let a little loose.

He hadn’t realized the tears gathering, nor the way his breathing had picked up until Nicky appeared out of nowhere sitting down next to him. He had swirled his head to look Nicky in the eyes, and the easy going smile he had on his face died when he saw Aaron’s face. He must have looked terrified because Nicky sounded completely sober when he spoke,

“Aaron are you okay? What’s wrong? Did something happen at Eden? Should I go get Andrew?” The more he spoke, the faster the words spilled out and the more panicked he sounded. Aaron tried to draw in a breath to answer him, but it got stuck in his throat so he just shook his head desperately. He really didn’t want to include Andrew too, and rather die than include Neil. Nicky had nodded his head, but still looked at him worriedly. When he finally mastered the art of breathing again he blurted out what he should have said ages ago, even before his little revelation.

“I’m sorry Nicky, I’m so sorry” He crumbled while he said it, and his head had landed in Nicky’s lap. The tears had started to fall about halfway through his apology and he didn’t predict them to stop anytime soon. But neither did the muttered apologies, I’m so sorry spoken softly into Nicky’s thigh. Nicky was bordering on hysteric at that point, franticly petting his hair and seemingly answering Aaron’s apologies

“It’s okay, I forgive you! I don’t really know what you’re apologizing for, but it can’t be that bad! Sure, you’re kinda an asshole, but you’re apologizing so you’re not that big of one. Why do you keep apologizing? It’s okay, I’m right here. Whatever you did I’m always gonna be in your corner, so please stop crying I don’t know what to do! How can I help? If you don’t calm down I’ll have to go get Andrew because I really don’t know how to help you if you don’t speak to me, and I’m starting to get really worried now. Please talk to me.”

It was only when Nicky had started to shift around, as if trying to get up, that Aaron finally snapped out of it. He wrapped his arms tightly around Nicky’s legs and shook his head, turning around to look up at him with pleading eyes. Nicky had looked back at him, tears in his eyes as well and shifted once more. “I’m giving you two minutes to start explaining or I’m getting him. This will not go unspoken of, do you hear me Aaron? I’m pretty sure you’re having a mental break down or something, and you can’t keep that all inside. That is super unhealthy and can cau-“

“I think I might be gay” Nicky had gotten very quiet and still, just looking at Aaron and blinking rapidly. Aaron took a steadying breath and wiped his face free of tears, head still in Nicky’s lap. Figuring fuck it, I already said the hardest part he continued speaking, voice croaking making it deeper than normal.

“I don’t actually know, I just. I keep having these thoughts ever since Katelyn and I broke up, which we did like, a month ago, and I think my brain is just now connected the dots because apparently I’m fucking stupid, and can’t figure out that sex wasn’t as satisfying as regular masturbation, was not because the people I’m with are bad at it, but because they don’t have what I need. Or is it the bad thing and I’m only overanalyzing? The only thing I’m really sure of right now is the fact I’m a huge asshole for giving you and Andrew such a hard time for being gay, when I might be it too. That and apparently I find my chemistry TA hot, and like the way men smell and what is wrong with me?” Aaron sniffed and a few more tears fell from his eyes. They were starting to feel a bit sore now. Aaron had jumped when Nicky suddenly took a huge breath and whispered something that sounded like okay, you can do this. Making eye contact with his older cousin he got a small smile. He reached down wipe the last of the tears away, and began petting his hair again. Much more soothingly this time around.

“So this is a lot to unpack, so what do you say we take it in small bites hmm?” When all Aaron did was nod, he continued on, “So you and Katelyn broke up? Are you okay in regards to that?”

Aaron looked down at his hands, playing with his fingers but answered him, “Yeah, about a month ago. Maybe a little longer. It was an actual mutual decision, something we both felt needed to be done. We had a big fat discussion about our feelings and called it quits. We just aren’t ready to tell just yet. Might not for a while to be honest. She has some things to work through, and she’s my best friend so of course I’ll put it off for as long as she needs.” Shrugging his shoulders he looked up again.

“Okay then, I’m happy to hear you’re doing okay there. These… thoughts you mentioned, what exactly do you mean?” Wincing a little, Aaron had tried to clarify his brains jumbled observations. They sat on the couch talking about each and everything Aaron had been feeling and thinking about those past two months. Aaron found that Nicky could be surprisingly quiet and understanding, and that it was really cathartic to talk about it all. So apparently Aaron could see the attractiveness about guys, but he didn’t know if he wanted to date them. Kissing had crossed his mind once or twice, but quickly shut down because he wasn’t ready to think about it.

The last thing Aaron had asked of Nicky before they went to bed that night, a few hours later, was that he kept quiet. He wasn't ready to explore his sexuality, let alone come out. Nicky had given him an understanding smile and sighed out of course.

A knock on the door startled Aaron out of his memory and into the present again. Shrugging his hoodie over his head he decided to just get it over and done with. Fucking Kevin sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. When he was fully dressed once more, he walked over to the door and ripped it open.

"What do you want Kevin?" He said maybe a little too forcefully. Kevin had moved away from the door, and was sitting at the couch Matt had supplied the living room with. He gestured to the other end where he was sitting. Sighing to make his displeasure known, he got to the couch and plopped down. Looking over at the other boy he repeated his question, a bit more mellow this time. Kevin was sitting with his legs curled up under him, his right hand playing with the fabric of his pants.

"A date, ideally. With you, specifically." His face was set in a small smile, eyes sparkling hopefully. Aaron's heart sank a little, so Nicky had outed him. Accidental or not, that still shot a pang of panic and hurt through him. Before he could muster up the energy to answer him, Kevin continued,

"I don't actually know if you'd be interested, or even actually into boys. About three weeks ago, I overheard Nicky speaking to who I assume was Erik, considering he was speaking some german. He kept switching between english and german though, and going on a tangent about queerness being genetic, the twins, and breaking up with girlfriends. Never mentioning any names. So I don't- I'm not actually sure it was you he was talking about. I tried to ask him but he just shouted no, hung up the phone and all but ran away from me. He haven’t really spoken to me yet. I think he feels bad, because I overheard him.”

A feeling of relief spread through Aaron. Even though Nicky had spoken about their conversation from months ago, he had worded it so only people who knew Nicky intimately would have a clue. Or simply think he was talking about Andrew. Still feeling some of his earlier panic, Aaron opened his mouth to profusely deny deny deny, not at all ready to talk about his sexuality again, he remembered a tiny detail from Kevin’s explanation. If he had overheard Nicky three weeks ago, why in the world hadn’t he said anything? Either to him or the others? Closing his mouth again, Aaron tried to calculate what would happen if he “came out” to Kevin. He wasn’t even sure what the ever-loving fuck he was, other than not straight, but if Kevin had held tight for those three weeks maybe he would for however long it took for Aaron to figure it out. One small parentheses made the equation hard though. Kevin’s apparent desire to date Aaron. Aaron might not be the best at math, but a huge glaring pair of parentheses in an equation needed to be addressed first, in order to solve said equation. Right? Aaron’s pre-med not a simple math major, how was he supposed to know?

“Why?” It had slipped out of Aaron’s lips without permission, but he really needed to know before they got any further in this equation. Why now? Why him? Kevin furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly, apparently not getting Aaron’s question. Aaron elaborated his inner thoughts, and the questions made Kevin pause. A slight flush rose across his cheeks, but it didn’t take long for him to gather his thoughts, only a shake of his head.

“So, I’ve been talking to Bee right? In the process of becoming sober” Aaron nodded, not really in the mood to actually talk right now. Luckily, Kevin continued on.

“Okay, so. She hasn’t just been helping me getting sober, also just. Better? In general. We have been talking trough my growing up, and Riko and Andrew. Just. Everything I guess. It made me realize some things, and she has been encouraging me to do something about it. I haven’t wanted to, until three weeks ago, where I heard I might have an actual chance.” He shrugged his shoulders, now looking down at his lap, really focusing on the piece of fabric between his fingers. Aaron’s mouth went a little dry at that implication, not that he really knew why.

He thought all bravery had left his body, after having to endure his forfeit, but apparently not because he felt himself reaching his right hand across and over Kevin’s left. It made him start and look up at Aaron. Sitting there with his hand over Kevins made him feel the same sense of fuck it, as he had with Nicky all those weeks ago. So throwing caution into the wind, he unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, and asked what he thought was the most pressing matter.

“What did you realize?” Kevin’s face went from flush to straight up red, but he kept his eyes locked with Aaron.

“Apparently it is possible to admire people of the same sex aesthetically, and not just because of their exy skills. And that I find your personality and general body incredibly attractive.”

Kevin’s voice had gone down an octave, and the sound of it sent a shot of something, through his stomach. The very same something he has been feeling pertaining his chemistry TA lately. Great, now he also found fucking Kevin hot. Not that that might be a problem with Kevin considering the resent confession. Though now that he really thought about it, Kevin really is an attractive person. He has sharp cheek bones, but his green eyes softens his face up, so he doesn��t look so severe. His nose is slightly upturned, but with a tiny bump on the bridge, which is something Aaron hadn’t noticed before. Wonder where he got it from? Exy most likely. His thighs has the same kind of muscle definition that Katelyn has, which is something Aaron has always found arousing.

He should probably say something though, instead of just mindlessly looking at Kevin. The poor dude looked about one breath away from a minor break down. He shook his head to clear it from his Kevin related epiphany.

“Fuck it okay, all cards on the table?” He gestured with his left hand, just now noticing his right still laying over Kevins. When he got a hesitant nod from him, he continued on now determined.

“I don’t actually know what I am, other than maybe not straight. Katelyn and I are broken up yes, but we haven’t actually told anyone. Not ready yet” A slight flush rose across his own cheeks when he thought about his next admission, “And I kinda find you aesthetically pleasing as well.”

A small smile spread across Kevin’s face and he opened his mouth, but Aaron cut him of before any words could come through. “But! But, I really don’t know what that means. And I don’t think it’s fair for you, if I didn’t make that abundantly clear first. Your face is attractive, I think, and I know you enough to feel safe maybe starting a thing with you. Just, some minor things before you ask me again?”

Kevin nodded his head quickly and opened his mouth again, but once again Aaron cut him off before he could speak. “Okay so one;” He held a finger up on the hand not holding Kevin’s.

“I’m nowhere near ready to tell people about anything related to my sexuality, so if we do this. It’d have to be in complete secret,” Another finger joined the first one and he went on. “Two, we’d have to take it slow. I don’t know what I’m comfortable with, or how far I’m willing to go, so you’d need to be patient with me. Possibly really patient with me.”

He raised a third finger to go with his last bit.

“And lastly but most important, you need to tell me if things isn’t working for you anymore. I know I come with a lot of rules and regulations, but I need to figure out if this is really for me. You feel safe enough for me to try with specifically, but if that ever ends up not being enough for you, you tell me. Immediately. That is very important to me. If there is one thing my relationship with both Katelyn and Andrew have taught me anything it is honesty is super important. Well, and consent but you know Andrew too so of course you know that. Okay, you can talk now.” He unfurled his hand, and waved it at Kevin’s to demonstrate his point. Kevin looked a little shell shocked after being loaded with all that information, and he took a moment but finally he spoke, his small smile lighting up his eyes.

“Yeah, I can work with that.”

It was spoken softly, and it took Aaron an extra two seconds to realize what Kevin meant. He still wanted to “date” Aaron, even with all these rules. And he had not seen that coming, expecting Kevin to give up and find someone new to pester about dating. He hadn’t really taking his stubbornness into consideration, which really was an oversight on Aaron’s part, and predicted this would happened.

“Ask me again.” He challenged him, a small part of him still excepting him to not go through with it. And by now, Aaron kinda really wanted to go on this gay adventure with Kevin.

Kevin’s smile grew in size, and made a dimple appear in his right cheek, another thing Aaron hadn’t noticed Kevin do(had, could?), and he shifted closer to Aaron. He shifted his left hand so they were holding hands, rather than Aaron holding Kevins, and took hold of his right hand as well, placing both in his lap. Aaron could feel his cheeks warming up, but didn’t hinder his movements.

“Would you like to go on a date with me? And maybe hold a little hands with me? That’s all I ask for now, and we can figure adjustments out as we see fit in the future. And secrecy is okay with me at the moment, and I promise to tell you if I change my mind.”

Aaron’s whole upper body felt warm now, most likely a blush, but he also felt surprisingly excited. This had suddenly turned into a thing Aaron really wanted to explore. Mirroring Kevin’s smile he answered, feeling confident in his mental math. This equation wasn’t so hard to solve as the first one.

“Yeah okay, I think I’d really like that”

Part 1 of “Aaron Tries His Best”

1 - 2(coming soon)

#kevaaron #andreil #besties Aaron and Katelyn #Kevin Day #Aaron Minyard #Nicky Hemmick #all for the game #all for the gay #aftg #zenoouh writes #Neil Josten #Andrew Minyard

50 notes · View notes

jemmahazelnut · 3 years ago

Text

Motorcycle flight - Chapter two

Summary: Laxus is a biker, and as soon as he discovers that in the city there’s a motorcycle track for enthusiasts where races are organized every month, he decides to go. As soon as he arrives, he will fall in love with that wonderful place, and will meet the handsome green-haired owner. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Here you can find Chapter One.

Chapter two, I bet on you

Laxus was a bit irritated this time. If the first time he lost to Freed he could justify himself by talking about the difference in their bikes, now he couldn't really do it, because Freed had been honest. He had raced with a bike similar to his, and had won anyway. The smirk on the boy's face didn't go away even for a moment and kept reminding him of defeat. And since Laxus had promised to offer him dinner, he would have to put up with it all evening. Well, the upside was that he was going to spend some time with Freed. If he left out the arrogant side of him, it was really fun to be with him.

“Will you go on like this all evening?” asked the blond.

“Yes,” Bickslow replied for Freed placing the two plates with sandwiches on the table. “And he’ll be terribly annoying, but luckily I’ve something to show you that will make him less arrogant,” he said taking the phone from his pocket. Freed arched an eyebrow probably not knowing what to expect, and when Bickslow turned the phone towards him, Laxus laughed out loud. Freed grabbed the phone and looked at the video, snorted lightly and shook his head in resignation.

“Really, really funny,” he said in a flat, slightly annoyed voice.

“He was trying to be cool and made an ass of himself,” Bickslow laughed. It was a video in which Freed was still young and was doing a motocross ride, too bad that as soon as he left, he had rolled over backwards after less than ten meters, while the other riders had all left without problems.

“Yeah, the best biker in history,” Laxus laughed. “Please pass me the video, you should put it on YouTube or something,” he added. Freed gave him a dirty look.

“Bickslow, if you pass him the video I'll fire you, and I'm not kidding,” he said seriously. Bickslow laughed.

“Well, good dinner to you both,” he said and walked away leaving them alone. Laxus was still smiling and occasionally a few chuckles escaped him thinking about the video. It was all the more hilarious because at first Freed was gloating arrogantly and immediately afterwards, he was the one who was left behind at all. Laxus took a bite of the sandwich enjoying the soft meat and then found himself smiling again.

“Please tell me you won't go on like this all evening,” Freed said in exasperation.

“Sorry, but it was really funny,” Laxus replied, unable to hold back his smile.

“In my defense I can say that it was the first time I did motocross, and that I was still young”.

“Yeah, justified,” Laxus instigated him with a grin. Freed rolled his eyes.

“You're unbearable,” he murmured.

“You were up to two minutes ago too,” Laxus pointed out. Freed smiled slightly.

“Okay, I'll stop being so unbearable but you don't name that video again,” he gave up at that point.

“The video in which you fall off the motorbike?” Laxus asked clearly amused. Freed narrowed his eyes and the blond raised his hands in peace. “I'm done,” he promised. “Although now I’d really like to do a motocross race with you”.

“I would win,” Freed said without hesitation.

“As you did in that video?” Laxus asked still on the verge of laughter.

“No, as I did half an hour ago,” Freed promptly replied. “And haven't we made a pact?” he then added arching an eyebrow.

“Okay, I'm not mentioning it anymore,” Laxus conceded and the two boys began to eat quietly in silence. The blond found himself thinking about the last week spent in that bar, especially how strange it was to be sitting there at the table with the owner of that place. Despite what it might seem, Freed was by no means one of those rich people who flaunted wealth in front of everyone. Still, he was clearly proud of the camp, and when Laxus had said it was a nice place, he had noticed Freed's face break into a smile. It was normal, even Laxus in his place would have been.

Another thing that made him think was how natural it was to be there, maybe it was the atmosphere of the people who frequented that place, or maybe it was because of the passion that united them, but it was easy to talk to almost anyone. And for Laxus, who had always had a hard time socializing, it was new. He had found himself talking to Gajeel about motorcycles and had discovered that the boy was a mechanic like him, Cana never missed an opportunity to bet on anything and Laxus had discovered that that girl was competing too. Well, at least when she wasn't drinking, which was rare. And he had also competed with Mirajane. Even though she looked like a saint, she was a strong biker, it had been a good challenge.

And, of course, there was Freed. Well, Freed was quiet compared to the bar patrons, and Laxus found that he never attended the contests he ran. Freed had explained to him that he had already done it the first few years, but that it really didn't make sense, because he always won and then it ended up making the customers nervous. Better to let them have fun and get more revenue. The blond still struggled to believe that no one had ever beaten him yet, but he had tried to ask someone else too and it actually seemed to be so. At least on that track. For motocross races it was quite another matter. Another smile appeared on his face but he tried not to make it obvious so as not to make the owner even more nervous.

“How did the idea of opening such a place come about?” Laxus asked, a little out of curiosity and a little to break the silence that had been created between them.

“From my parents,” Freed replied.

“Are they also passionate about motorcycles?” Laxus asked. Freed shook his head and smiled bitterly.

“No, not at all,” he said. “Well, my parents are quite rich. You know when you told me the other day that the rich all have stench under their noses?” he asked. Laxus nodded, he had told Bickslow, he didn't think Freed was listening to him, but luckily the boy just laughed and agreed. “Well, my parents are definitely in that category,” he explained. Laxus frowned still not understanding.

“Since the last year of high school I started skipping school and riding motorcycles, and since I had decided I didn't want to study at university, my parents got mad. They clearly told me that I was either starting to work or I had to continue studying,” he said. Well, that was understandable, Laxus thought. Any parent would have done it.

“So, I left home and started working as a bartender, in all this I forgot to tell you that I was constantly arguing with my parents. Not for my studies, but for the people I hung out with. Anyway, my dad got even more pissed when he found out, he said he wouldn't let word get out that the great manager Justine's sonwas just a bartender. For him I had to become someone important, follow his example and open a business, so I satisfied him,” he said shrugging, and then a smirk appeared on his face. “I think he regretted it a lot, he hadn't imagined that among all the activities, I would open a motorcycle club” he concluded, amused.

“So, you did it just to piss off your folks?” Laxus asked a little surprised.

“Well, they gave me the initial idea. I'd say it's the only good thing they've done for me,” Freed said with a shrug. “But I really liked the bikes, I think I could only open something I really liked,” he explained.

“Wow,” Laxus said not knowing what else to say. “Well, I'm sorry about yours…” Freed made a casual gesture with his hand.

“No problem. Anyway, how did your passion for motorcycles come about?” he asked him. Laxus realized that he probably didn't want to talk about it and didn't insist. His face broke into a sincere smile.

“My grandpa,” he said. “Ever since I was little, he always took me on motorbike tours, we used to go around the valleys around Oak Town,” he said.

“You were born there, right?” Freed asked and Laxus nodded.

“Yes, it’s a very small village but the landscapes are breathtaking. I think it’s the most beautiful place to ride a motorcycle. There, Oshibana and Clover. You've never been?” he asked.

“I once took a trip around Clover,” Freed said, frowning to remember where he had been. “It was many years ago, I don't remember exactly where I was, but I know there was a beautiful lake where we stopped,” he explained.

“Yeah, there’s a beautiful lake there,” Laxus said. “Actually, everything’s beautiful there, and as much fun as racing motorcycles is, it’s much more enjoyable to drive around the curves of the mountain,” he admitted.

“I agree,” Freed smiled. “By the way, you probably already know this, but next month there’s a motorcycle rally in Hargeon. It’s not in the mountains, but maybe you will like to come. We will almost all be there”.

“Yes, Cana told me,” Laxus said. And surely, he would go.

***A month later***

Laxus had arranged with Bickslow, Evergreen and Elfman to reach Hargeon. The four had met at the Raijinshuu, and from there they had all left together reaching the city by the sea. Actually, Laxus had thought Freed would be there too, but the boy stood them up. The blond would have lied if he had said that he hadn't been upset a bit, in the last month he had found himself better and better with the boy. He often met him when he went to the track and they always stopped to chat for a while and... ok, Freed was a nice guy, he had to admit it.

He found the man attractive, both physically and in his way of doing things. That didn't really matter, though, as Laxus didn't know him that well. Besides, he didn't even know if he could like boys, if he was engaged, or if he might be interested in him. He probably wasn't, so better not think about it directly. Despite that, he would have fun with him.

“Didn't Freed come?” he asked Bickslow as they took their places at a small table where Lucy, Natsu, Gajeel, Cana and Mirajane were already seated.

“No, he said he had a couple of problems with his father,” he replied. Laxus frowned slightly and sat down next to Lucy, and across from Bickslow. He understood that Freed didn't have a great relationship with his parents, but they never talked about it after the night they had dinner together. He was almost tempted to ask for more but he didn't want to be too obvious, nor meddlesome. Despite that, he decided to try it anyway.

“What's wrong with his father?” he asked.

“Basically, he's an asshole, he wants to shut him down,” Bickslow explained. “I honestly don't understand what a bother it gives him,” he added with a shrug.

“It's just reputation,” Lucy explained as she took a couple of fries and stuffed them in her mouth. Then she turned to Laxus. “A couple of years ago, shortly after Freed opened the track, he gave an interview and said he was kicked out of his house because he was gay. This had some repercussions on his father's company, so now he wants Freed to start working for him, so that no one will believe it anymore. The point is that few now remember that article. It's been years, he should just let it go,” she said.

Laxus found himself for a moment still with his beer half raised, surprised by that tale. He closed his mouth and put the glass down without drinking, thinking about what he had discovered. He now understood why Freed didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, and now he also knew that there was indeed hope with the boy. He decided to leave out that last thought.

“So, he wants him to close the track just for this reason?” he asked.

“Yes, his father wants to have a good image,” Lucy said.

“You met him,” Bickslow recalled.

“Yeah, quite like my father,” she just commented. Laxus frowned, sure he was missing something. Lucy noticed this because she explained to him that she was the daughter of Justine's partner, and that she too had left home since she finished high school. At first, she had lived with Freed, then the two had taken two different paths, she had found a job in a publishing house, while he had decided to open the motorcycle track. They had been friends for years.

Laxus listened to the stories that Lucy told him, and after a while the chatter took a quieter and more fun turn. Gajeel, Elfman and Natsu arm wrestling each other, Cana and Bickslow carried on the conversation by telling lots of funny anecdotes, while Mirajane tried to stop her girlfriend from drinking too much. Laxus soon found himself having fun, forgetting Freed's stories and enjoying the nice afternoon. The boys had just finished eating when Bickslow announced that Freed and Loke were on their way.

“Now we’ve to go,” Cana commented.

“Well, we're staying here until tonight, there's a band playing” said Lucy leaning on Natsu.

“We go home instead, we’ve a commitment tomorrow,” Mirajane said. After that the two girls got up and said goodbye as they walked away. Laxus stayed there until he saw the two boys walking towards them. At that moment he remembered what Lucy had told him earlier about the boy's sexuality, and he found himself for a moment unsure how to behave. At least until Freed and Loke were in front of them. At that point he thought that very little changed, he would enjoy the man's company as he had done up to that moment.

“Here you are finally!” Bickslow exclaimed. Loke sat down while Freed remained standing.

“I saw that there’s an exhibition of vintage motorcycles over there, is anyone interested?” he asked them. But the boys shook their heads and finally Laxus decided to join. Freed smiled gratefully and the blonde just shrugged, as they walked towards the place where the exhibition was located.

“How was lunch?” Freed asked.

“Not like the one at Raijinshuu, but it wasn't bad,” Laxus replied. “I had to order two sandwiches because they were too small.” Freed smiled slightly and nodded, continuing among the people in silence until they reached the exhibit. As soon as they arrived, Laxus’ eyes sparkled: those bikes were beautiful, they had a sleek design and were in really good condition.

“My grandfather had a bike like that,” he said pointing to one and approaching it for a better look.

“Don't tell me he sold it,” Freed commented.

“Unfortunately, yes, it was stupid. It was beautiful,” Laxus said with some nostalgia. It was the first bike he had ridden on when he was a child, the one he had sworn to buy when he grew up at the age of five. Thinking about it only brought good memories to his mind.

He continued following Freed and observing others, occasionally making a few comments. Compared to usual, however, Freed's responses were much shorter. Laxus noticed it after a few minutes they were there, and glanced at the boy, wondering if he was okay. He watched as Freed pulled out his phone and answered a message with a frown. Obviously, he wasn't in a very good mood, and obviously Laxus knew it after what Bickslow had told him. But he didn't know whether to tell him something or not, since he didn't think he had all this confidence with him.

Eventually he decided to remain silent, simply trying to pull him into some conversation. All his attempts, however, went up in smoke, even though Freed was clearly kind, he could see a mile away that something was bothering him and at that point it was impossible for Laxus to remain silent.

“Everything good?” he asked. Freed frowned slightly.

“Yes,” he replied immediately.

“I mean, really,” Laxus said. “You're a little distracted, and Bickslow told me you had a couple of problems with the track,” he insisted. Freed avoided his gaze and the blonde feared he was being too intrusive. But before he could apologize and withdraw his words, Freed spoke up.

“Actually, there’s some problem. Nothing serious but… well, I'm still worried,” he admitted.

“I'm sorry, something that threatens to make you close the track?” he dared to ask Laxus.

“Yeah,” Freed murmured and then shook his head. “No, I mean, it's all good, just... I don't know, really,” he snorted. Laxus watched him for a moment in silence not knowing what to say.

“If everything is up to standard, I don't think you need to worry.” Freed smiled slightly at that phrase.

“It's the same thing Ever and Bickslow tell me.”

“Because we’re right. I mean, I don't know you very well but you seem like a very fussy type, you've probably made sure everything’s okay”. Freed just nodded. “Anyway, if you want to let off steam, Bickslow and Ever will sure be happy to help you.” Freed raised a slightly frowning eyebrow.

“Are you dumping everything on them?” he asked a little surprised and Laxus found himself holding back a laugh at his expression.

“Well, obviously if you want to let off steam with me that's fine, but I'm better at distracting people than comforting them, and apparently my attempts at distracting you haven't worked until now,” he said. Freed was silent for a moment, probably thinking back to what Laxus had tried to do, then smiled.

“Maybe with a beer I'd be better distracted,” he said.

“Don't think I'm offering it to you, rich man” Laxus replied walking towards the stall. “Actually, since I'm helping you, you could offer it to me.” Freed laughed slightly.

“You really are a freeloader, I never would’ve said that,” he commented.

“Eh, having a rich friend has some advantages,” Laxus smiled, pleased that he was finally able to get Freed out of his thought bubble. The rest of the afternoon was much more enjoyable for both of them, and if Laxus found himself flirting with Freed, it was just to distract him. Not because Lucy had told him he was gay, that had absolutely nothing to do with it.

***

Freed hadn't seen Laxus for a couple of days at the bar, and he was starting to feel a little bitter. Since the blond had started going to Raijinshuu, Freed had also started going to the bar more often to see him. The chat with the boy had become much longer and always managed to improve his day. He liked Laxus. To be honest, Laxus attracted him quite a lot. He was the ideal man for Freed. He was easygoing, always had a joke ready, had that hint of arrogance that amused Freed, and he was terribly handsome.

He still didn't understand what Laxus thought of him, and if he could ever return his crush. He didn't even have a clue if he might like guys, probably not, but Freed was hoping for that anyway. After all, it had seemed to him from time to time that the blond flirted with him. But maybe it was all in his head. It probably he was. That didn't stop him from getting on well with Laxus and wanting to spend more time with him.

“Didn't Laxus come to the bar?” he asked Bickslow, who luckily seemed more focused on serving a customer at the moment to see his real interest.

“No, to be honest, I haven't seen him for a while,” said the boy. Freed nodded a little irritably. He had hoped he knew more. If only he had had his number Freed would’ve written to him, but he had never thought of asking him. He was an idiot. He had a crush on Laxus and couldn't even come forward and ask him for his number. He tapped his fingers nervously on the counter, undecided whether or not to ask the next question. His gaze fell on the poster that indicated the participants in the race of the month and he saw the name of Laxus.

“Strange, he has to do the race and he doesn't even go for a lap around the track,” he commented.

“He doesn't compete anymore,” said a voice behind him. Freed turned in surprise to see Cana. “A beer Bickslow, the biggest you have,” she ordered and then turned back to the poster. “Poor Lucy, I'm a little sorry for her, she had focused on Laxus”.

“Why doesn’t he do the race?” Freed asked, frowning.

“He has had an accident and his bike is unusable,” the girl replied calmly.

“What?” Freed asked worriedly and Bickslow also turned to her with a distressed expression.

“Nothing serious!” Cana hastened to say “Really, or I wouldn't have told you in this way” she said trying to calm them down. “A drunk actually overturned his motorbike while he was standing still. Laxus didn't get hurt, but the motorbike... well, he's pretty pissed off,” she explained.

“Oh” was the only thing Freed managed to say. He was relieved that the boy was okay, but to be honest he understood the blond's anger. “Well, the insurance will pay the damages,” he reasoned.

“Yes, but in the meantime, he can't use his bike,” Cana commented and then shrugged, taking her beer and starting to drink. Freed looked at the girl. Of all the people there, she was surely the one who knew Laxus best. She probably had his number, and Freed wanted to hear the boy too. Maybe he could distract him from the story. Okay, it was a pathetic excuse to hear the blonde but, man, he missed him.

Pathetic, he thought irritably as he thought of a better excuse to talk to the boy. Besides, what would he say to Laxus once he called him? He snorted slightly lost in his own thoughts, until an idea came to his mind. A much calmer idea, so he wouldn't need Laxus's number to talk to him. He would pass by the place where he worked, hoping to cross paths with him.

***

Of all the people he expected that day, Laxus hadn't thought of finding himself in front of Freed. The boy got off his motorbike and smiled slightly as he took off his helmet.

“Hey”.

“Hey, any problems?” the blond asked, wondering if he was just there to talk to him or if he had some problem with his motorbike.

“Yes, I was taking a ride when I realized that it’s leaking some oil. Since I was close to here, I passed here, to check before the engine is damaged,” he explained. Right, well, it's not like Freed could've been there just for him.

“You did the right thing. I see if it’s something minor or if it’s more serious,” Laxus said, taking the bike and dragging it into the workshop, almost with sparkling eyes to have such a vehicle in hand. Every time he saw it, he felt crazy envy. And in that moment even more. He darkened his face for a moment to rethink his bike, but he quickly dismissed the thought, just hoping that the insurance would pay him quickly so that he could repair it.

Freed nodded absently and looked around.

“Is the workshop yours?” he asked.

“No” Laxus replied “But today the boss isn’t there” he explained as he began to take a look at the vehicle. When he did, however, he was baffled for a moment. For a couple of seconds he remained motionless, then turned to Freed, who was looking around.

“The fuel cap isn’t closed properly,” he said at that point, at the same time surprised that Freed hadn't noticed and amused him. To tell the truth, he was a bit shocked. The green-haired boy blushed slightly.

“Oh really?” he asked naively and Laxus raised an eyebrow. Freed's cheeks warmed even more and the blonde couldn't help but smile amused, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at him. Freed wasn't that stupid.

“So, are you really that incompetent or is the reason you are here another one?” he asked him. Freed snorted slightly and turned his gaze to the side. Laxus chuckled, feeling a little hope in his stomach. Maybe Freed really had passed by just to see him. It would have been nice, and very, very funny too.

“I know you had a motorcycle accident,” Freed said at that point. Laxus frowned slightly.

“It wasn't an accident. A fucking drunk hit me. I was still,” he pointed out in an irritated tone, losing all fun.

“Yes, Cana told me,” Freed said turning back to him. “I'm sorry about your bike, but the insurance will pay for everything, right?”.

“Yes, who knows when, though,” the blond commented. Freed smiled slightly.

“Well, I'm here to make you a proposal,” Freed said. “You know, Lucy bet 40,000 jewels on you.”

“Holy shit,” Laxus commented in surprise. “Well, I'm sorry for that little blonde, but she's really unlucky,” he added, knowing full well she didn't win one.

“Yes, but if you participate you could make it win. If I gave you the bike, would you participate?” he asked. Laxus frowned, surprised by this proposal.

“Are you serious?” he asked “Would you lend me the bike, just to let your friend win the bet? You aren’t even sure that I will win, you would first give her the money”.

“She's too proud to accept,” Freed said. “Anyway, yes, why shouldn't I? I know how you drive, I've seen you several times,” he added with a shrug.

“Would you lend me such a motorcycle?” Laxus asked, still shocked, pointing to the nice little gem he had just closed the fuel cap tightly. Freed nodded. “Fuck you, you're crazy” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“Would you accept or not?” Freed asked.

“What if I lose?” he asked at that point. Freed smiled in amusement.

“So, you know you could lose. I thought you were more arrogant, you’ll have one of the most powerful bikes and…”.

“Shut up,” Laxus growled irritably.

“So do you accept or not?” Freed asked again. Laxus fixed his gaze on Freed's bike and a sudden excitement pervaded him. He could’ve ridden a motorcycle like that! What the fuck did he care why Freed would let him do it? A grin broke out on his face.

“Okay,” he agreed, already feeling high at the idea of riding such a bike.

“Well, and since you're so sure you'll win, I'll bet on you too. Don't make me lose money,” Freed said as he took his bike back.

“As if you miss them” Laxus couldn't help but reply and Freed laughed slightly.

“Tomorrow you can choose the bike to use in the race,” Freed told him as he left the workshop. Laxus nodded and followed him, but then frowned.

“Wait, what do you mean by choosing?” he asked.

“You'll find out tomorrow,” Freed replied, before putting on his helmet and saying goodbye.

***

Laxus stared in rapture at the garage in front of him. When Freed told him he could choose between different bikes, he didn't expect to find himself in a large garage with a dozen or so bikes inside. How the fuck rich was Freed? Other than shitting money, he really didn't know what poverty or normal life was. He stared at those beautiful bikes in surprise and excitement, not knowing which one to choose.

He must have really had a surprised expression on his face because Freed chuckled and approached a black motorcycle leaning on it.

“Except this one, you can choose whatever you want,” he told. Laxus cast a curious glance at the bike he was leaning on, realizing that it was probably his personal gem that he was most fond of. He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable to tell the truth, he didn't even understand why Freed should have given him a motorcycle of his own. Sure, he wanted Lucy to win, but why let him pick one? Was he trying to show off? Because if he was doing it, he worked damn well.

“Take your time,” Freed said.

“Are you like... a motorcycle collector?” Laxus asked as he stepped forward and ran his hand over a fiery red vehicle. He really was spoiled for choice.

“More or less,” Freed smiled. “Even though Evergreen says I’ve an exaggerated fixation. Bickslow often tells me too” the boy commented, looking around.

“They're not entirely wrong,” Laxus murmured. That place was like his heaven. He rode a bit between the different bikes. They weren't all sporty, there was a beautiful classic one, and Laxus gazed at it for a while and then moved on. He wanted to try them all. Eventually he made up his mind to pick one and Freed then tossed him the keys. Laxus caught them on the fly.

“Wait until tomorrow before using it, I’ve to reactivate the insurance,” Freed said as he walked out of the garage. Laxus followed him without saying a word, already feeling a thrill of adrenaline running through it. The very idea of being able to ride something like this excited him beyond measure. “Well, I thought you were happier riding a bike like that,” Freed commented. Laxus looked up at him.

“You’re really weird,” he told him openly. Freed shrugged.

“Just because I lend you a motorcycle? It would be so much stranger if I gave it to you,” he replied calmly.

“That would be crazy,” Laxus commented.

“Anyway, if you're free tomorrow we can come back here together so you can try it out,” Freed said. Laxus nodded again a little dazed.

“You really trust me,” he muttered.

“I've seen you ride before,” Freed replied. “Unless you lied to me about the accident and you were the one to ride another bike,” he added. Laxus regained some confidence and turned to Freed, remembering how the boy had shown up in the workshop with a stupid excuse.

“I'm not like you,” he retorted. “Uh, next time, if you want to stop by, come up with a better excuse. You could puncture the tire and call me,” he said with a smirk. Freed's cheeks reddened and Laxus laughed in amusement.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

“You know I'll make you remember it forever?” sneered the blond.

“You know I can let you walk home?” was the annoyed reply and Laxus smiled and decided to shut up. He didn't really want to walk all over town to get home, or take a bus. The two boys got on the bike with which they had arrived there. Freed in the front and Laxus in the back. The blond put his hands on Freed's hips, enjoying the contact, for the first time thinking that perhaps that accident had not brought only negative sides with it. He smiled as Freed left and took him home. Eh, maybe the boy wasn't so indifferent to him.

Notes: Maybe it was better to divide it into two chapters, it turned out to be longer than I thought. Well, I think the next chapter will be roughly the same length, but I also think it will be more interesting than this one.

#fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #freed x laxus #fanfiction

10 notes · View notes

our-chaotic-beginnings · 5 years ago

Note

Can I request bakusquad on a first date?

The long awaited request has been filled! Hopefully tungle.hell doesn’t kill be with word count caps. I hope you enjoy!

Mina Ashido

She’d take you out on a first date to the mall! A lighthearted day of shopping (or window shopping if you’d prefer) and hanging out is her idea of a great first date!

Your first stop would be to the local café to grab some much needed caffeine to keep your energy up throughout the day. She always orders drinks with caramel and chocolate to keep her sweet tooth happy, and she’ll gladly offer to pay for yours if you’d want.

Your next stop is to your favorite store! You’ll both have a day at trying on outfits and finding the best styles for each other. She loves thrifting as well so you may find yourself bouncing from shop to shop, hand holding her tightly to make sure you keep up.

Whenever you feel your bellies rumbling, you make a beeline for the food court. If you surprise her by tugging her to your favorite fast food station, she’ll let out a laugh lighter than air and give you a small peck on the cheek. She’s happy that you’re able to keep up with her energy.

After you’ve eaten to your heart’s delight, you’re off to the arcade! Mina bets that you can’t beat her at Dance Dance Revolution, and you’re not one to say no to a challenge. You spend hours dancing at this machine, drawing a crowd around as you do your best to gain the upper hand. When you manage to get a perfect score on a song, she rushes over to you to give you a high five and the biggest hug she can muster.

“That was awesome! You’ve gotta show me how you got so awesome at this game! I’ve got Just Dance in my room, wanna see if you can beat me there?”

Katsuki Bakugou

As loud and brash as he is, Katsuki isn’t the one to instigate your first date. All of BakuSquad could see how he wasn’t as harsh with you, so they decided to set him up for a first date with you. So when he found himself at the meeting spot just outside an amusement park with you frantically checking your phone and looking around for someone, he knew that you’d both been set up by your friends.

He marched up to you and let out a groan. When you had noticed him, you came to the understanding that his friends were meddling with you. However, you shouldn’t let these free tickets with all day passes go to waste, right? With hands in respective pockets, you entered the park side by side.

While you both were fairly uncomfortable and awkward in the first hour of hanging around the park, once you two got onto a ride, you both warmed up to each other. You were riding one of the faster coasters, one that slowly pulled you atop a hill onto to launch you downward and through loop-de-loops.

While you were screaming your head off on the drop, Katsuki was giving a full-hearted laugh that ended with a smirk. A smirk that quickly morphed into a small ‘o’ of surprise when you grabbed his hand. His face flushed as he glanced between your hand gripping his for dear life and how your eyes were squeezed shut. The shock from your boldness faded from him, face returning to his normal hue (albeit dusted with a soft pink blush), and he squeezed your hand back.

Minutes later, the two of you were exiting the ride, and he escorted you, hands still together, over to a shaded table for you to calm down after the ride. Realization hit you that you were holding hands and you tried to pull away, but Katsuki just smirked and squeezed your hand tighter.

“Trying to run away from me now? Tch, you could’ve told me you don’t like the faster rides, dumbass. Let’s go find something more your speed. I can’t be the loser that lets his date feel uncomfortable.”

Kyouka Jirou

As the daughter of two music lovers, her idea for a first date is to a concert. She branched out to a genre that wasn’t her style, more of yours actually, so she knew you’d love it. With a few of her mom’s connections, Kyouka managed to score a couple of front row seats for the two of you.

During the breaks of the opening acts, she makes her best attempts at small talk. When the awkwardness washes over, you chuckle and give her hand a squeeze. You know she’s out of her comfort zone, so you try to ease her nerves by talking about what you liked about the music. You’ve struck a chord with her then, and so when you both aren’t vibing with the music you both chat about how good the guitarist’s riffs were or how you could see how much fun the lead singer was having as she flitted from one end of the stage to the other.

Your attention’s drawn to the stage when the main act appears, Kyouka’s fingers interlacing with yours as she anticipated the first strum of the base for their opening song.

Melodies and choruses passed, and it felt like time had stopped until the band was announcing their last song of the night. However, Kyouka could barely focus on the stage; her eyes were glued to you, taking in your overflowing enjoyment. With every song, you were energetically performing in your seat; you were far more captivating than the girl adjusting the mic on the jumbo screen.

Contrasting to the upbeat, fast paced songs that they had started their set with, a soft tune floated through the venue. The guitarist had exchanged his normal electric guitar for an acoustic guitar. Cliché and mushy words accompanied the gentle music, and Kyouka could feel her heart pound. The band was ending the concert with a love song, a preview of their new album if she remembered the earlier announcement correctly. The singer’s voice gradually built up from a whisper to a resounding belting that echoed through the silent crowd. A split second of silence followed as the singer took another breath; you followed suit to prepare for the next verse, unaware of what Kyouka planned. You turned to check how she was feeling about the song only to find her lips on yours.

“I know that this band was the headliner tonight, but you were the real star of this show. Wanna listen to all their albums on the way back tonight?”

Denki Kaminari

Denki’s idea of an ideal date is just inviting you to hang out with his friends. Some may see it as awkward, but he sees it as the best way to introduce you and to get to know you in a group setting. Today, he dragged you along to his squad’s gaming day, with today being a MarioKart tournament.

Before you even said a word, his friends (with the exclusion of the feistiest member of their crew) swarmed you. They asked who you were, if you had a quirk, and how you’d managed to agree to date their goofiest friend. You laughed and answered their questions with ease, pulling the flustered blonde closer to your side as you joked about accidentally getting shocked by him during your first meeting with him.

Any awkwardness subsided once a controller was in your hand. The unofficial leader of their group pushed a black controller to you, almost a challenge to see if you were good enough for Denki. Everyone was competing in this grand prix solely made up of Rainbow Road at the highest level of difficulty. You agreed wholeheartedly and set out customizing your bike (as you preferred them to the carts) to create the ultimate racer.

The first of the four rounds started off with a blast, with you managing to blow out as you got used to the controls. You ended up way back in 6th place, with only Hanta falling behind you at 8th with NPCs littering the places unoccupied by the other players. The next two rounds fared better with you placing 3rd in the second round and 2nd in the third round. With the final round seconds away, you were shocked to find that your points were tied with the hotheaded Katsuki. This last round would determine it all.

Denki massaged your shoulders during the brief break before the final round (as he was eliminated in the second round with an unlucky last place), whispering encouraging words to hype you up. He was worried about Katsuki’s verbal beating he’d give if he didn’t win; the blonde had been at the receiving end of many of those. Those worries all melted away as he saw the way you were weaving through the NPCs, using them to shield yourself from the explosive boy’s neverending supply of shells. You were neck and neck; in first and second place for the majority of the round. Tensions were high, the room making the group’s chants of your name echo into your very soul. You didn’t even realize you had managed to win; as soon as you crossed the finish line, Denki had you pulled into your lap and was pressing his lips lightly to your cheek.

“You did it! You beat our reigning champ! You’re definitely a keeper if you can even beat Mr. Hot Head himself! You want to do this again sometime, maybe one on one?”

Eijirou Kirishima

As health conscious and ‘manly’ as he is, Eijirou offered a simple walk in the park as your first date together. He would’ve offered to work out together, but some of his other friends (namely Mina and Denki) vetoed that. He chose a weekend that was expected to have a sunny forecast and chose a park that was more than just grass and pathways.

You both met up by the vending machines, him buying you your drink of choice and grabbing himself a bottle of water. Eijirou kept the conversation light, discussing the recent class you both had about team tactics. He had been absolutely enthralled watching how you effortlessly pulled off a combination move with Momo and Tsu. His hand casually reached for yours, grinning wide to show off his pearly teeth as your cheeks bloomed with a pale pink.

Soon you came upon a mostly deserted play set with three sets of swings. You both came to an agreement to swing in the shaded area as a short reprieve from the sun. The conversation shifted from tactics to inspirations as you recounted your first experience with a pro hero: a pro hero from your hometown had taught a general safety course and ended up rescuing an eight-year-old you from flying away when a friend’s wind producing quirk accidentally activated. You recounted your amazement about how she jumped up a few meters to grab you and gently returned you to your spot without making a huge scene about scolding your friend. Her calm attitude and quick reflexes really inspired you to strive to be a hero, especially a hero with attention to handling cases with children involved.

Eijirou relaxed into the swing, swaying as he explained how Crimson Riot’s manly ideology and willpower to confront danger without any hesitation brought himself out of a dark time of self-doubt. The pro hero turned into an idol, influencing the boy to take on his well-known red hair and paying homage to the Crimson Riot with his own hero name Red Riot. Her further went on to explain that while he admires the manliness of the hero, he doesn’t mean that he admires the masculinity aspect of the word.

He knows the courage and determination of manliness comes in many forms; he exclaims that you exemplify that manliness, especially after learning about what happened during your training at a hero agency based in Hosu City. You had managed to hold off two villains twice your size on your own while waiting for reinforcements to arrive during a small hideout raid. Eijirou was so caught up in explaining his admiration that he hadn’t even noticed that he was slightly pulling you both towards the edge of the raised walking path. He made one wrong step and started falling towards the ground, only to have you grip his hand tightly and yank him back onto the walkway and directly into you. With a blushing face that rivalled his hair, the boy recovered from his blunder with a full-bellied laugh.

“I know I’ve been going on and on about how manly you are and how awesome your training is going. After this, I think I’m really falling for you. You’re my hero today!”

Hanta Sero

A laidback date for a laidback guy, Hanta decides to do a casual movie at home for your first date. He first takes you to the convenience store to pick up all the snacks that you’ll need for the movie marathon. He scored some copies of a childhood classic series that he knew you liked, so he wanted to make sure you both would have enough to last the eight-hour binge.

While you grabbed the popcorn, he snuck over to where the dried fruit were. Despite all of his friends’ eating habits, Hanta favored the healthier options. Although he wouldn’t mind a little sugar now and then if it were you giving it to him. Little did he know that you were lurking around the candy aisle with a specific target in mind. After a few minutes of browsing the shelves, the black-haired teen settled on a large bag of a mixed variety of snacks and met you by the checkout counter.

Hanta paid for your goodies and you walked hand in hand back to his room. After situating the hammock into place and gathering any pillows or blankets you needed, you settled in next to each other and turned on the first of many movies. You both lay there cuddling, him being the large spoon so that he’d have more room to maneuver his elbows so that they wouldn’t dig into you.

Time sped by as you both lay there and enjoyed the corny visual gags that seemed like it was just yesterday that you were watching for the first time. In between laughing your hearts out and stuffing your cheeks with popcorn, neither of you could feel the beating of each other’s hearts against one another nor the warm mood settling about the two of you. The snacks were dwindling, only one bag left unopened as you two reached the final film.

He was the one who grabbed the bag, eyebrows quirking up as he read the contents. Sugar coated orange slices; something Hanta hadn’t eaten before. He asked why you got these instead of anything else. You blushed and gingerly took one out of the bag, mumbling a response along the lines of thinking he may like them. He chuckled and pushed into you, shifting just enough to where he could snatch the treat from your hands with his lips.

“Well what do you know, these are pretty good. If these are halfway as sweet as you, then I’m in good company!”

#mina ashido #mina ashido x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #kyouka jirou #kyouka jirou x reader #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #eijirou kirishima #eijirou kirishima x reader #hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #requested

152 notes · View notes

warsofasoiaf · 4 years ago

Note

I'd love to hear your thoughts about Cyberpunk 2077 when you are ready/have finished the game. Maybe besides the game itself you have an opinion about the crunch, bugs and general feeling of disappointment in a good portion of the fans

Sure thing. It’s going to be a long write-up and there are going to be spoilers, so you better believe that this is going to have a cut. Reader beware. For context, I have beat the game, and I played it on PC and only on PC.

I’ve been a fan of the cyberpunk genre for a long time. Transhuman and techno-utopian sci-fi always struck me the wrong way; that it was too optimistic and ignored a less savory element of human nature that simply would not go away with the advent of new technologies. While I only briefly dipped my toes in the water of the Cyberpunk tabletop game (I was always a bigger fan of Shadowrun), I did enjoy the genre and was eager to see a AAA cyberpunk game. I also really liked CD Projekt Red with what they did with RPG’s like the Witcher 3. Particularly when it came to the smaller sidequests, they really found a way to bring a lot of noir elements and hard-hitting character moments to the game, and I believed that it could translate very well into a cyberpunk game. After all, noir was a similar response to detective fiction to what the cyberpunk genre was to earlier elements of sci-fi. So I was quite optimistic when it came out. What we got was...well, it didn’t quite meet up with expectations.

There are some good things about the game. Assuming you have a beefy rig, PC cyberpunk looks pretty good. Not only does it look good, but it looks like the dismal 1980′s inspired future that had defined the genre, with its neon lights, omnipresent advertising to the point of satire (amphetamines are available from vending machines in a variety of flavors and commercials are completely ridiculous). The fixers are great examples of different cyberpunk archetypes like Regina Jones being a media or the Padre being an underclass civic leader looking to protect his community with a bit of a violent streak. Plenty of the characters had great personality, the nomads and Panam were enjoyable, Judy had a great questline that detailed optimism and bitter disappointment (and the character looks cool and is a bit of a cinnamon roll), River’s quest was a perfectly serviceable cop questline with enough horror elements, they were all fine. Keanu wasn’t a great voice actor, but he did serviceably and was apparently just wonderful with the staff, so I’m willing to cut him a pass. The level design can encourage a variety of different play styles, with attribute points opening up certain pathways. Given that it’s an open-world sandbox game, the goal should be to immerse yourself in the world, and touch on elements of cyberpunk as you go through the various quests, and you do see some of that. You see the gross exploitations of dolls in the sex trade when you go to Clouds, the bizarre elements of self-expression that new technologies can offer such as the twins in Kabuki, Pacifica is an abandoned recreation ground for the rich with the nice image of rotting Ferris wheels and abandoned malls, and you can see the divide between the have’s and have-not’s on full display both in the opening (compare and contrast the Street Kid with the Corpo beginnings) or take a look at the Peralez’s penthouse apartment versus Judy’s cramped digs. Honestly, one of my favorite things in the game were just the consumables to highlight the different food and drink available to the people of Night City. The heavy population means that foods like fried ants or locust pepperoni are common, amphetamines are available in a variety of flavors, and there are no less than 20 burrito vending machines on every street (the future is not all bad it seems). I like little worldbuilding moments like this in video games because it does give a sense of completion and immersion within the world. I honestly felt bad for Johnny Silverhand, because by the end of the game I had to be a bloated man-ball of Holobites Peach Pie and Cirrus Cola.

The game even took a few things that had aged poorly in the cyberpunk genre and improved them. The Mox is a gang specifically meant to stop the Disposable Sex Worker trope, it’s small and part of the reason it survives is that it’s small, but it offers a chance of improvement over the exploitation that the Tyger Claws offer. The cyberpyscho quest is probably the best one of this. Earlier Cyberpunk had cyberpsychosis as a serious concern directly correlated with how many implants you got. The Solo archetype even spoke about how you risk losing your humanity with your implants as you became stronger, better, faster. Even later iterations had depersonalization/derealization disorders as people who could see in the dark lost connection to those who couldn’t. A quick thought in our present though, changes this. My eyesight and hearing is just fine, but I don’t lose connection or common empathy with individuals who are blind or deaf. I have two arms and two legs and I have not lost empathy for amputees. Why then, would I lose empathy and connection with someone with average human eyesight after I get my eyes replaced and now I have the ability to see in the dark or have telescopic sight? The cyberpsycho quest actually took this concept to task; cyberpsychos around the city are seen as horrifying threats that need the high-threat response of MaxTac to deal with, but Regina is looking to see if she can cure cyberpsychosis. Mechanically, the cyberpsychos are boss-fights with elements of puzzle gameplay (how to handle the different skillsets that they have) and a bonus reward for non-lethal damage which rewards certain playstyle archetypes or prepwork for those who ensure that they have a non-lethal option. The information you find around each cyberpyscho showcase different problems in the target’s life, no real common thread or inciting incident that you can trace the onset of cyberpsychosis toward and identify a culprit. After you complete the quest, you learn the twist: there is no such thing as cyberpsychosis. Each of the targets were actually just experiencing different stressors within their lives, such as PTSD, losing their job, drug abuse, etc. and the breakdown is made much worse because these individuals have the ability to toss dumpsters like they were baseballs or pick the wings off a fly with a cybernetically enhanced brain with a .50 cal. Some of these individuals had terrible implant surgery done by bargain-basement ripperdocs and temporarily lost the ability to discern reality from fantasy, something that could easily be seen as a science fiction adaptation of temporary insanity brought on by a poor reaction to medicine. It’s backed up by the game too. V can fill every slot in their cyberware deck but never once experiences cyberpsychosis. Oda has ultra-legs and flaming-hot mantis blades and is in perfect control at every point in the game, even when he’s trying to jab those mantis blade through your sternum. Cyberpyschosis isn’t real, the irresponsible media just ran with it because fear sells. For all the flaws of the game, I respect the game for taking cyberpsychosis in that direction.

But for all those good things, the game couldn’t help but feel shallower than the Witcher 3. The side-gigs were formulaic to the point where they even led with a category. There were few twists and very little that was surprising. Exposition for these quests was limited to a short text dump and a minute voice-over. Night City was big but it was relatively sparse. NCPD never seemed to intervene in any crimes (giving the character the chance to do so) but every so often they were around a taped-off crime scene, giving a sense of inconsistency that hampered the world. While it was a bustling city, it felt empty, most of the people I saw on the street were meaningless, just NPC’s walking around to give a sense of activity. There was little in the way of things to see and experience that was unique or different about these NPC’s. They weren’t crowds I could hide in like Hitman, they didn’t have ambient dialogue that showcased something like the Witcher 3. Much like other open-world games, this sense of shallowness pervaded much of the empty space of the world; it was incredibly *big* but there was little in it. Much of the time I was driving or running through empty space that was completely worthless to me. Normal for city living, but all of that is wasted time going from point A to point B, and unlike the Witcher 3, there were no small in-game beats to help flesh it out or build it. I never had Millie from “Where the Wolf and Cat Play” give me a little picture, I never had people from a liberated village say “hey, look, it’s that guy Geralt, thanks for killing those harpies.” These were things that made the Witcher 3′s world really come alive. I didn’t have that, and I was left

Of course, we also have to handle the elephant in the room, and that was CDPR’s conduct both during production and after release. Crunch has become an increasingly common part of video game development and it’s not healthy to developers. CDPR had been called out on it once before, but it seemed there was little change in how that happens. I’m not quite sure if there’s anything we can do, and I’m sympathetic to the need to hit target deadlines to actually deliver a finished product, but there’s got to be a better way, whether that’s a change to the incentive structure, or something, because it’s hurting folks. I like games like Witcher 3 and Red Dead Redemption 2, but I understand that there was a real human cost to these masterpieces, and I wonder if there’s something we can do about that.

Similarly, what happened after launch was beyond terrible. The last-gen console version were simply not ready for release and shouldn’t have been released to the public. CDPR openly covered up this, by only previewing the PC version, they hid the fact that the game wasn’t ready, and they avoided delaying the last-gen console version because they were looking to capitalize on holiday sales. I’m sympathetic for the need to generate sales, but the flip of this is that you have to deliver the product you advertise, and for last-gen consoles, they didn’t do so. Bugs are one thing, these games are massive undertakings of interacting systems and bugs are inevitable; some of my favorite games were buggy at release, notably Fallout: New Vegas, Witcher 3, and so on. But this went past bugs and into malpractice and deception, and that’s something that’s less forgivable. I personally had few bugs that were out-and-out game breaking but things not loading, quests bugging out, floating bags and other physics wonkiness, all of that hurt the immersion. I’d be more willing to forgive the game without the deception; I can laugh at bugs but not at ignoring quality control to get holiday sales instead of delivering a quality product. Consumers are angry at CDPR and have every reason to be, and I’m one of them. I can express my disappointment and I will do so, we need developers to stop these practices and the only way we can do that is through our wallets and words. I’m not going to tell anyone not to buy CDPR games, that’s entirely your decision because I’m a radical individualist. But I am going to say that they’ve burned a lot of their good karma with me; credibility is a hard beast to gain back. Much like other big name developers, CDPR has hurt their standing in my eyes. Whether that means I need to resort to going to indie games for a little bit or something else, I don’t know, but it’s rough. I liked CDPR and wanted to believe it’d be different, but it seems to not be the case.

Overall, I think it’s another AAA open-world game only made better by my love of the genre, and that stings. I enjoyed some aspects of it, and I hope that through Free DLC, patching, and other good deeds, the game can redeem itself and stimulate new love of the genre. But CDPR needs to do a lot more than that to win back my affection. If anyone has anything specifically that they want to know about the game, such as talk about the main story, individual characters, or so on, just ask.

Thanks for the question, Khef.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#video game reviews #cyberpunk 2077

18 notes · View notes

gothic-safari-clown · 4 years ago

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 19: Hands Off

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18

Word count: 2587

TW for self harm

"So you're tellin' me absolutely nothin' is goin' on between you two?" Between sessions, Harley had come to visit Elianna in her office for a chat. "Aren't you still staying at his place?" It seemed that the blonde still had yet to give up on the idea of El and Jonathan together; the only difference now was that she had ended up being right (a fact that the redhead had made sure to remind him of as they laid in bed catching their breath the day before. He hadn't found it quite as funny as she did).

"Yeah—wait, how did you know that?"

"I was pullin' into the parking lot behind you guys this mornin'."

"Uh-huh, we drove separately, stalker." El quirked an eyebrow with an expectant smile.

"Right, so you just happened to arrive at the same time? Just 'cause you didn't take the same car doesn't you're not comin' from the same place."

"Alright, alright," El laughed. "He's got some errands to run after work, so I promised to make dinner."

"Aww," Harley exaggerated the syllable, knowing it would get under her friend's skin.

"Oh, cut it out." El rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I already told you, nothing is going on." The blonde just laughed in response. "Hey, how's your big case coming along?"

As Harley enthusiastically began to tell whatever she could about her sessions with the self-named Poison Ivy, El used the distraction as an opportunity to recall the day before smugly to herself.

Already, the recent change in their relationships had its ups and downs. On the one hand, it almost seemed like a dam had burst; their dynamic flowed more smoothly, and for her part, she felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. On the other, when he had told her that morning that he had to oversee the handling of that night's delivery personally (since Batman had effectively put Falcone out of commission), her usual worry for his safety had doubled.

Something that Elianna and Jonathan had in common was a lack of experience with real relationships. As such, they shared a sense of profound importance in regards to the new arrangement. It would take some work to balance the now heightened concern they held for each other.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was in his office trying in vain to occupy his mind by shuffling through the stack of administrative paperwork that the warden's office couldn't be bothered to sort through before sending it to him. Between the unexpected hitch in the master plan and trying as hard as he could to not think about El (on that count, Scarecrow was actively working against), he was struggling to make it through even the very basics of his job.

At that moment, for example, he was grappling with his schedule for the day. Falcone had been taken to Blackgate and apparently had been asking to see him for a few days. Jonathan had been putting off visiting the mobster since he had found out; he had been caught by a civilian in a cape and a mask; what could he possibly have to discuss with such a disappointment to the underworld? Today, however, he had received word that the older man had cut his wrists, and the administration at Blackgate had sent for him specifically.

As if that weren't enough, he had already had to clear his schedule for that night to oversee the shipment, given that Falcone was now indisposed.

There was no getting around it, though, he supposed, and found himself back in the car en route to Blackgate. However, the drive wasn't nearly long enough for Jonathan to quell his frustration in Falcone's incompetence, and before too long was meeting with the mobster's caseworker.

"Doctor Crane, thanks for coming." There was a thinly disguised urgency in her voice as she greeted him.

"Not at all," he replied, barely remembering to keep his tone patient. "He cut his wrists?" How irritating it was to fake concern.

"Probably looking for the insanity plea," well, at least the woman was pragmatic, "but if anything should happen..."

"Of course, better safe than sorry." He nodded as they approached the door to the private room that Falcone had been brought to. With that, the caseworker unlocked the door to let Jonathan in and let the door swing closed behind him.

Falcone didn't skip a beat. "Hey, Doctor Crane, I can't take it anymore. It's all too much; the walls are closing in, blah blah blah," the old man rambled dryly. "Couple more days of this food, it'll be true." Jonathan found himself steeling himself against the urge to let Scarecrow come out as he settled into his chair.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know how you're gonna convince me to keep my mouth shut." The ego of a powerful man is truly something indigestible, isn't it?

"About what? You don't know anything about the operation."

"Maybe not specifics, sure, but I know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at the drugs they seized. I know about your experiments with the inmates of your nuthouse." Jonathan listened and watched as patiently as he could as the tiresome man continued to talk. "See, I don't go into business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets." At this point, Scarecrow was banging against the proverbial walls of their brain, desperate to retaliate. "Those goons you used. I own the muscle in this town. Now I've been bringing your stuff in for months. So whatever he's planning, it's big. And I want in."

Can you believe the balls on this guy? Let me out, Jonny.

Not yet; he still doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Well, I already know what he'll say. That we should kill you." Just because we haven't yet doesn't mean that we won't, old man.

"Even he can't get me in here. Not in my town." Jonathan was growing tired of this conversation very quickly.

"Your town." The psychiatrist repeated, not a question—a mockery. The older man's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh, did I forget to ask? How rude of me, I forgot the most important part. How is your little lady friend from the asylum?" here the mobster leaned in threateningly, "Does she know what you're doing? What's gonna happen to her once you go down, I wonder. Maybe I'll send some people to make sure she's not alone, huh?"

Now that caught Jonathan's attention. The rest of Falcone's little threats were easily avoided; even he didn't have the power to endanger Ra's Al Gul's plans. He did, however, have the power to have unspeakable things done to Elianna. That would not stand.

Jonathan made his decision from there quickly. Scarecrow was overjoyed that El had been brought into the discussion, knowing that Jon would have to take it seriously, and was raring to be in control.

Jonathan sighed and removed his glasses, hearing the straw man begin to cheer in the back of his mind. "Would you like to see my mask?" He asked, opened his briefcase without waiting for an answer, popped open the false bottom, and reached for the mask, ignoring the several full syringes waiting to be used. He had added a new rig to the case, and it was as good a time as any to test it out. "I use it in my experiments. Now, I'm probably not very threatening to a guy like you," he continued, holding up the mask for emphasis, "but these crazies? They can't stand it."

With that, he made to put the mask on and let Scarecrow take over.

He could barely hear Falcone's quip about the nut taking over the nuthouse over the ever surreal feeling of taking the backseat in his own brain.

Once his face was secured, Scarecrow took great pleasure in pressing the button to release the cloud of toxin. The screams of terror began almost instantaneously, much to his delight, and he rose from his chair to loom over the mafioso.

"They scream, and they cry," he teased with menacing glee. "Much as you're doing now." Jonathan allowed Scarecrow a few more seconds of enjoyment before regaining control. They still had to leave undetected, and Scarecrow couldn't be trusted to be professional. As much as Jonathan enjoyed hearing the man who had dared to threaten El scream, he was more trustworthy when it came to subterfuge.

"Well, he's not faking," Jonathan cleared his throat as he reentered the hallway, greeted by the caseworker's concerned face. "Not that one." He was still a bit flustered by the rush of inflicting such horror upon someone. Move on, Jonathan, act normal. It was a bit of a blur after that, promising to talk to the judge and get Falcone transferred to Arkham before making his way back to the Asylum himself. He still had a few patients to see before he could punch out to oversee the shipment that evening.

However, once the rush wore off, Jonathan found his mind wandering back to what Falcone had said about El. Who knew what he could have told his people already? He stopped by El's office before returning to his own and was surprised to find her no longer there. A quick phone call to the secretary at the front desk told him that she had already left for the day—another phone call to find that her cell phone was dead.

Shit.

Jonathan forced himself back to the matter at hand, telling himself that she was fine, but the lingering worry stayed in the back of his mind.

For about an hour and a half at least, when he decided that he was done with work for the day. The sooner he could take care of business, the sooner he could rush home to make sure she was there.

In the car on his way to the meeting site, Jonathan tried calling her again to no avail.

I really need to get a home phone for the apartment; he cursed to himself.

He found himself unable to focus on the task at hand as he parked his car and got into the one being driven by the goons provided by Falcone. Any of them could have received orders at any point to take El, hurt her, anything. He had no way of knowing if instructions had already been given or what liberties were allowed should anything happen to her.

Behind his impassive expression, Jonathan was operating almost solely on autopilot, getting out of the car and entering the old apartment that served as a drop point. This one had already been used twice before, and given how close the end date was, he had already decided to eradicate any and all evidence once the job was done.

He looked disinterestedly over the pile of stuffed bunnies, appraising the shipment's size, doing quick calculations in his head to the best of his ability. After concluding that it was, in fact, the correct amount, he gestured to the goons to retrieve the substance from inside of the toys. "Get rid of all traces."

Jonathan couldn't help the disgusted look around the dilapidated apartment. He couldn't think of anywhere he wanted to be less at that moment. Distracted by the sheer quantity of distasteful thoughts swirling in his mind, he was almost startled when Scarecrow spoke suddenly.

There's someone else here.

That statement froze all other concerns as he tuned in to his environment. He barely registered one of the thugs telling the others to torch the apartment as he noticed a prickling on the back of his neck, as well as the open window.

Jonathan remained calm and in control as the other men began to douse the furniture in gasoline while he moved to examine the window.

Are you sure?

Before the straw man could answer, the sound of shattering glass from the other room stole Jonathan's attention from the window.

Yes, came the smug response. Wasting no more time, Jonathan let the other goon move to investigate and instead moved into the shadows to retrieve his mask.

You're up again, Scarecrow. Do it fast; we have to get home.

Yeah, yeah, you've been annoying me for hours; she's fine. Would you shut up about it? Retaliated Scarecrow as he forced Jonathan out of the driver's seat and took over, relishing in the drama of wearing his face again.

That moment didn't last for very long before his suspicions were confirmed, and the Batman himself burst into the room, swiftly incapacitating the leftover thug. Luckily, Scarecrow's reflexes were just as fast, and he released a cloud of toxin from their sleeve rig, which hit the caped crusader squarely in the face.

The effects were almost instantaneous, judging by the wide eyes behind the cowl and the erratic, flailing movements. Scarecrow stifled a laugh as the armored man toppled backward away from him.

"Take a seat," he taunted, thoroughly enjoying his playtime, "have a drink." Here he seized a bottle of vodka abandoned by his now useless goons. The staw man snarled mentally, understanding Jonathan's intolerance of incompetence. They would be eradicated along with the evidence of their crimes. Splashing the booze on the caped man in delight, he continued to tease him.

"You look like a man who takes himself too seriously." Scarecrow abandoned the now empty bottle and replaced it in his hand with a zippo lighter that El had left in their pocket.

Wait, she loves that thing-

We'll buy her a new one, pipe down.

He had corraled Batman in front of the window and sparked the lighter, extending it in front of him menacingly. "Do you want my opinion? You need to lighten up." With that, he tossed the lighter, which ignited the caped crusader and the old rug in seconds.

This allowed them a swift escape, as Batman threw himself out the window and plummeted with the rain onto the pavement several stories below. Wasting no time, Scarecrow had them outside and in the getaway car. Luckily, there was a spare key in the visor, and they sped down the street in the direction of where they had left their car.

Slow down! We're attracting attention; we don't need that.

You're the one who's been bitching about getting home for the past few hours.

Not letting up for a second, Scarecrow turned a fifteen-minute drive back to Jonathan's car into a five-minute one before finally retreating to his place in the back of their mind. Of course, on principle, Jonathan was still irritated with Scarecrow for behaving so recklessly, then leaving him to deal with any potential consequences. Still, he was glad for the saved time.

By this point, Jonathan was so frenzied with panic about El's wellbeing that he couldn't even think about their own run-in with the Batman. Still ten minutes away from home, he tried to call her cell once again. Still no answer.

Why the fuck won't she pick up?

Scarecrow didn't respond, finally picking up just how agitated the whole situation had made his counterpart. Best not to rile him up further.

Jonathan nudged the car faster. Only a few minutes away, but it felt like forever. He was so frantic to get home and see Elianna safe that he couldn't even think of what he would do if she weren't. No game plan, not even a shadow of one because she's okay. Or so he kept telling himself.

#the mind's power over the body #Attraction To The Insane #series #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #Nolanverse #batman begins #Elianna Montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #jonathan crane fanfic #multi chapter fic #slight au #cillian murphy scarecrow #cillian murphy #tmpotb chapter 19

11 notes · View notes

raz-b-rose · 5 years ago

Text

The Secrets we Keep

This was my first Daminette fic, and by far my longest right now. I am posting the whole thing here but I’ll include a link.

It is 15490 words, hope you enjoy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737908/chapters/51857641

________________________________________________________________

Damian isn't sure how his life had come to this. If you had asked him 2 years ago; heck even just 6 months ago, he would have denied ever wanting to be this close to another person. Alas here he is sitting across from a beautiful woman, dinner picked away at as they talk into the night. Yes Damian Wayne never thought that he would want to in the company of Marinette Dupain-Chang especially after their initial meeting.

She had come to class late, fashionably so, and he had swore at the time the professor was trying to make his life a living hell by assigning her as his partner. She was clumsy, easily flustered and chaos walking. He thought that there was no way she was going to contribute anything productive to this project. Her English was impeccable, however, so perhaps she had some discipline.

They agreed to meet for coffee later that week to go over each others notes and make a plan. Damian had made everything that week, wanting to just cut out the middleman and waiting to see what she contributed. He arrived to the coffee shop 5 minutes early, expecting to have to wait on her again, but she was already set up in the corner, 2 cups of coffee on the table in front of her.

Her hair was down today, the midnight color almost looking blue in the sunlight. She held herself with confidence as she took a folder out of her bag, separating the contents into two piles. Not wanting to be caught observing the approaches the table.

“Ms. Dupain-Chang. I wasn’t expecting you to be here early.” Damian wasn't sure what to make of the situation.

“Marinette.” She gives him that disapproving look that women seem to have mastered. He just stared at her in confusion.

“What?” He sounds as coherent as Todd.

“My name is Marinette, and just because I was late the first day doesn't mean i’m always late.” The way she says the last part leads him to believe that she was stretching the truth a little and was in fact, late often. He doesn’t call her on it however.

“My apologies. May I sit down?”

“Of course!” She giggles, her smile reaching all the way to her eyes. As Damian take his seat, Marinette hands him one of the cups. “You didn’t strike me as a coffee drinker, so I got you some green tea.” She becomes flustered once again, almost embarrassed. She doesn't quite meet my gaze.

“Lucky for you, your intuition was correct.” That forces her eyes to mine, and all he sees in those sky blue eyes is triumph. Almost like she is having a small ah ha moment.

“So I was thinking that we could split the work into five different sections for each of us, breaking it down further to one section a week so we still get it done by the time its due without it, what's the word,” She pauses her tirade trying to remember her English. Marinette was becoming very nervous. She hoped this man wouldn't think she was bossy or overbearing.

“Ah yes impending! Impending our other assignments.”

Damian can't help but feel the whiplash of his initial assessment of Marinette. She was beyond organized, and her work ethic rivaled that of Drakes. Which was saying something.

“Damian?” She looks at him in concern, going so far as to grab his hand. That shocks him into action.

“I feel that I must apologize. Due to your chaotic nature earlier this week, I did not take you for a reliable partner and completed the project.” Damian watches as her eyes widen, her mouth open in a cute o shape. Then she laughed. Not a cute giggle, but a full belly laugh.

“Then I must apologize as well. Due to your standoffish nature, I did not take you as a reliable partner and also finished the project already.” She gasps when she is able to breathe again. Damian feels like he is being mocked.

But he can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. “This meeting was nothing more than to humor each other then.”

“I have a proposition,” She has a mischievous glint to her eyes, Damian can't help but be influenced by the sight, He leans forward, elbows on the table.

“What would that be Marinette?”

“We do the project together, scrapping what we already did.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Uh a clean slate obviously,” She seems nervous again, her earlier show of intensity gone. He can't help but feel confused and frustrated at her constant change in demeanor.

“A clean slate?”

“Yeah like, we get to know each other properly. No assumptions.” Damian pretends to think a moment, watching her from his peripheral. She starts to squirm in her seat. She pulls on the sleeves of her sweater, then she plays with her hair, then she rubs her hands together.

“Ok” He decided she had suffered enough. She perks up instantly, and Damian questions his own sanity at agreeing. She quickly hands him a packet, explaining every last detail. He contributes to the planning as well, their drinks soon empty then time for his next class approaching.

“Same time next week?” She asks hopefully.

“Yes. See you in class.” Damian leaves the coffee shop feeling content and confident. Marinette would be a valuable partner.

They continued to meet for the next five weeks at the same coffee shop, on their last meet up until the project was to be presented later that week, Damian couldn't help but feel disappointed that their weekly meetups were coming to an end. Marinette's presence was a breath of fresh air compared to his nightly activities and the drone of the other occupants of the college campus.

She had found ways to make him laugh more than once, a feat in and of itself, and she never seemed turned off by his abrasive or abrupt nature. Rather she encouraged him to speak his mind, and in doing so Damian learned how to curb his words for the appropriate situations.

He would find himself fixing his appearance before leaving for each meetup. He would tell himself and anyone else that it was not to get a compliment from her, but rather because he is Wayne, and a Wayne is to be presentable at all times.

Even now he runs gel through his hair, satisfied when it stands at an appropriate angle. He turns his face inspecting for any missed spots from shaving. His green eyes stare back at him in satisfaction. An appropriate look for a Wayne he thinks to himself.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Marinette is doing the same thing on campus in one of the bathrooms. She fixes her hair for what feels like the hundredth time, and inspects her makeup for any blemishes. She cant help the girlish squeal that escapes her lips, bouncing on her toes a little. Marinette twirls in her dress, satisfied with the finished product and hurries to the coffee shop.

Damian enters last like normal, Marinette determined to fix her tardy image. Damian sits down across from her, taking the tea she already bought before he can speak she has already barreled into the last minute details of the project. Damian is content and listen to her passionately plan and finalize.

“Want to get lunch tomorrow?” She stops her tirade in shock, blue eyes searching green ones. Damian now just wants to smash his head into a wall, why did he say such a thing? He may not have seen Brown or Grayson for a few months now, but they must have rubbed off on him for him to thoroughly shove his foot into his mouth in such a way.

“That sounds like fun. Where and when?” She smiles that smile that even Superman would combust under.

“Uh, I don’t know, it was a spontaneous idea.” He mumbled, embarrassed at even using the word.

“Oh spontaneous huh? That's not like you Damian.” Her teasing increasing alongside Damian’s reddening face. “You’re always such a planner.”

“Yeah, yeah. Where would you like to go?” He tried to wave of his embarrassment, staring at a stain on the ceiling.

“How about I think about it and give you a text?” She dropped her teasing tone, turning her attention away from Damian and back to the papers, littering the table. If he hadn't been so flustered himself, he would have seen her hands tremble.

“Sounds like a reasonable plan. 12 o’clock?”

“Sounds perfect, I’m out of class by 11:30.”

“Is everything set for the presentation?” Damian tries to bring the conversation back to the reason for their sitting in the coffee shop to being with.

“Yes,” She giggles, “here you go,”

“Thank you, Marinette.” Damian offers her one of his rare smiles. She swears her heart stops then and there. Damian was good looking, but he increased his attractiveness by a hundred when he smiled.

How she managed to keep it together while in the coffee shop she’ll never know. All her years as Ladybug maybe? She waves to Damian outside the shop before squatting to the ground. She grips her face, her cold hands a welcomed relief to her very, very warm face. She doesn't care that she's in public, she squeals in excitement, the rush intoxicating. Damian had asked her to lunch, a date? She sure hoped so.

“Damian?” He jumps out of his thoughts. Marinette smirking at him, “Where did you go silly?” He narrows his eyes at her. He was not silly, the farthest thing from it.

“I was simply thinking about how I actually tolerate your company.” He tries to sound disinterested, but Marinette knows him well enough by now that such tricks wont work on her.

“Is that so? What about my company is so enjoyable?”

“I didn’t use that word.”

“No but it's what you meant.” She grins cheekily back at him, thankfully the check comes at that moment, leaving her to focus on gathering her things. He noticed her trying to slip bills to the waitress, however Damian gets the bills back and slips them back into her purse.

The walk back to her apartment is quiet and tranquil, like the snow falling around them. She is hugging his arm, trying to steal what little warmth he has to offer. If Damian learned anything about Marinette these last few months, its that she did not handle the cold well, and that she did not pick a good city to move to. It was winter almost nine months out of the year.

They stop outside her apartment, Damian waiting patiently for her to enter safely before leaving. She lingers outside with him, taking his hands on her own. Damian looks at her in confusion, watching as she looks up at him. Snowflakes dust her hair and eyes lashes. The lamp light making her eyes look darker than normal. She searches his eyes, licking her lips. He tilts his head, trying to read her thoughts through her expressions.

She slowly raises herself up onto her tip toes and gently touches her lips to his own. His eyes widen in surprise, mouth opening slightly. She stiffens, eyes opening in horror, falling back she takes in his face. He looks horrified at her kiss. He isn't, just caught off guard, but she doesn't know that.

“I sorry,” she starts to stammer, her accent growing heavy with panic, “Mine think brain, no, I thought, au revoir!” Marinette is then making a mad dash to the door, almost slipping in the process, but in a true Marinete fashion manages to catch herself and continue to escape with Marinette patented moves.

Damian reaches out for her, but she is already dashing up the stairs, out of site. Not really sure what he himself feels, and not wanting to make things worse, he leaves. He elects not to go on patrol that night, after all his head wasn't where is need to be safe. He doesn’t sleep much that night.

After all, what did Damian feel for the young woman? She was beautiful, that much is certain, he may have never been seeking out a relationship before, but he wasn't blind. She was passionate and fiery. She sought the good in everyone, giving more than she takes. She never put Damian down for his behavior, especially when he himself was in the wrong. She was patient and kind, talking him through everything. She made him actually feel proud to be Damian Wayne; That even though he was deeply flawed, she still wanted to be around him. She wanted to kiss him.

Kissing meant, love, or at least a deep care and like for another person. That is what everyone had told him since he came to live with Bruce. Marinette did not seem like the person to not follow through with that thinking. And on that note, Damian finds himself desiring to see her and kiss her again. He did after all enjoy Marinette's company, immensely.

The next day he doesn't see her around campus, or in their only shared class. He worries, but also thinks of Cass, and how she would do this when she got emotional too. Damian is sure he will see her again tomorrow and they can talk about them and move past this awkward mess.

She does not show up the next day. She has yet to respond to any calls or texts. By day three Damian has had enough and marches out of class, the stares doing nothing to him. He realizes when he gets to her apartment, he doesn't have a plan. She could not be home for all he knows.

Knocking he waits for her to open the door, he can hear shuffling on the other side, relieved to find that she is home. She opens to door in a daze, Damian smiles at her. She looked like crap. Her hair was a rats nest, she’d obviously had been crying and hasn't been sleeping well. She looked absolutely beautiful. Normal.

She tries to slam the door in his face, however, Damian is faster, the hand and foot keeping the door open. “Damian I could have hurt you!” of course that is the first thing she says to him.

“I have had worse. Please stop hiding from me. I enjoy your company too much to go without it this long.” He hopes she gets what he's trying to say, because Damian Wayne is not a love sick sap. She gives him a hopeful look, stepping aside to let him into the apartment.

“You enjoy my company huh?” She tries to act coy, but nerves are coming off her in waves suffocate her intentions. Damian steps right next to her, cupping her face in his hand.

“Yeah. You Are addicting.” She snorts at him.

“I’m sorry” She whispers, looking at him the same way she did three nights ago.

“What for?�� he whispered back.

“Kissing you.”

“That's not the apology I was expecting.” Damian then gives Marinette a look she has never seen before, it is one of hurt. Rejection.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you,” She steps closer, hand gripping his jacket. “I was embarrassed and thought you hated me. I thought I ruined everything.” His stare is intense, she feels as though her soul is out for Damian to see.

“Don’t ignore me again please.” His tone is gentle, something that anyone who knew Damian had never heard before. He rubs his thumb under her eyes as more tears start to fall. “I’m not mad, I just missed you and hate being ignored.”

“I won't do that ever again.”

“Good. Now promise me just one more thing.” He waits for her eyes to open, head leaning into his touch.

“Yes?”

“Let me kiss you when ever I feel like it?” He meant it to me an order, but it came out as a question. Her laugh sounds broken but healed at the same time.

“Damian. Is that your way of asking me out?” she's back to whispering again as she once more raises herself up onto her tiptoes.

“I guess it is.” He whispers back, his second kiss returned in full this time. She removes her death grip on his jacket, wrapping her arms around his neck. His moves his arms to her waist, lifting her off the ground, spinning them in victory.

“I really do like you Marinette. I’m sorry that my reaction wasn’t what you were expecting.” His forehead his against hers, taking in her presence in his arms.

“I misread the mood,” She groans, clearly still embarrassed.

“How would you feel if I told you that was my first kiss?” He chuckles as she only groans some more.

“Unfortunate that your first kiss is with me,” He can’t tell if she is joking your not. He sets her down, lifting her chin up to meet her eyes, searching them, trying to find a hint of a joke. There is none. He kisses her once more before speaking.

“I don’t feel like that and neither should you. I like your kisses.”

“How can you know that I kiss well, after all, I’m the only person you’ve kissed.” She pouts.

“I just know.” He says pulling her in for another kiss. They both melt into that one, no longer tense or uncertain. Content in each other's presence, relaxed and happy.

They had been dating for over a year when disaster struck. His family found out about Marinette. His very intrusive, needs the answers to everything, the definition of privacy is unknown, family.

They had just finished a nice dinner date after a performance at the theater, when the worst of all of his family happened upon them. Jason Todd. And no, Damien does not mean the worst because of his methods. No the worst possible person because Todd does not know when to keep his mouth shut.

See Jason had noticed them leaving the theater, and out of ‘spite’ decided not to call out to Damian, but rather follow them back to Marinette's place. Jason waited outside for almost two hours before Damian exited the building, preparing himself for a night of crime fighting.

“Hey Demion. Who’s the chick?” Damian froze, slowly meeting Jason's gaze across the street. He looked like a toddler that had been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

Jason pushes himself off the wall, meeting Damian on the other side, both of them walking to Wayne Tower together. Jason was not patient so he refused to wait for Damians answer.

“Com’on, tell me. Who is she?”

“She is none of your concern.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Damian tries not to show a reaction to the word, but his fist clenches and his shoulders straighten. “When were you going to tell us?”

“She is none of your concern.” He repeats, hoping that just this once, Jason will give up. He does not.

“How did you meet? Is she nice or a demon like you? Wait why did I ask that, why would a nice girl ever go out with you.” Jason laughs loudly, but doesnt miss Damians growl or the death glare he sends his way.

“Oh protective already are we,” Jason tsks, “Careful, girls these days don't like the whole ‘night in shining armor’ thing”

“Will you just shut up?”

“Nope. I have questions for days.”

Damian’s scowl from when he was ten slowly starts to morph back into place, the look more terrifying now that his baby fat has thinned out and his features are much sharper now. It does nothing against Jason however.

“She’s tiny,must be cute when you guys kiss. Ya’know, with how tall you are.” His scowl only deepens. “Oh I bet she not very experienced huh?” Jason suggests with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“WILL YOU JUST SHUT UP ALREADY?” Damian's face is beat red, his fists fully clenched now. However Jason is only getting started, this is the most entertained he’s been for months.

“A girl that cute must have a cute name right? Let me guess, Jessica. No, Hannah. Oh wait I got it, Lily.”

“Her name is Marinette! She’s French!” Jason just grins in victory. After all anyone knows if you annoy Demion long enough, he will tell you exactly what you want to know.

“Ah French uh? But she looks Asian.”

“Are you serious Todd?” Damian sounds disgusted, “You of all people should know not to judge a person's nation by how they look.”

"My bad, you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

“You’re not right in keeping her a secret.” Jason drops all annoying brother pretenses, getting serious. “When were you going to tell us? How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not long. And I didn’t want to tell you guys yet for this very reason.”

“We were all going to react the way I did no matter when you told us.” Damian begrudgingly agrees that Todd has a point. His family was annoying like that after all.

“You should bring her for dinner this weekend, everyone will be at the Manor,” Jason holds open the lobby doors for Damian, both waving to the receptionist, before heading to the private elevator.

“I will ask her Todd, but that's it.”

“Good enough for me, after all she won't refuse.”

“Who won't refuse?” Damian groans as the elevator doors open to the secret basement. Tim finishing suiting up, 3 cups of coffee already empty on the table beside him.

Damian tries to say ‘no one’, but Jason is already slapping his hand over his mouth ensuring his silence long enough.

“Demion here has a girlfriend that he didn't tell anyone about. He said he would bring her to dinner this weekend.”

Bruce walks in as Jason finishes speaking, his face showing obvious surprise at his youngest not only being in a relationship, but willing to bring her to the manor.

“I said I would ask her, there is no guarantee!” Damian shouts, pushing Jason aside, angrily getting suited up for the night.

“Please inform me as soon as you can Master Damian so I can make the appropriate accommodations.” Alfred speaks up from the giant monitor on the wall. Damian just grips the table in defeat, head hanging low.

“So what's she like Damian?” Tim finally speaks again, hovering on his left. “Is she smart? Talented? Oh I know you must find the damsel in distress trope attractive.”

“Drake you have two seconds to back away from me before I put a hole through your face,”

“That's a hard no,” Tim mutters backing away, “What can you tell us?”

“That she is not your concern,” Damian groans for the third time that night.

“Of course she is our concern, we have to make sure she checks out. Safe for the family.” The ‘safe for you’ hang in the air between them.

“Her name is Marinette and she is French. That's all the information I got.”

“That's a good amount to work with” Tim excitedly stars tapping away, obviously working on building a profile.

“Don’t you dare run a background check on her.” Bruce has silently been watching his sons interact, finally stepping in at Damian's order.

“Why not Damian?”

“Because it is not necessary, and I value her privacy, like all of you should,” He looks into Tim's eyes the longest. “I know enough without a background check.”

“How long have you known her,” Tim snips, perturb at being stopped at investigating. It's what he is good at and it's what he enjoys.

“Long enough, leave it be. You all know about her now. That should be enough.”

“But its not-”

“Just be a normal family for once!” All the men stop at Damian's outburst, “Get to know her like normal people. No background checks, no staking out, just leave her alone.” With that He marches over to the street exit, leaving his Father and Brother standing in shock.

The following morning, Damian meets Marinette outside her apartment, silence filling the air as they walk to class. He glances down at her, smiling a soft bittersweet smile. It was nice while it lasted, having her all to himself.

“My family found out about us.” She doesn’t find this news as troublesome as he did.

“I didn't know they were unaware.” Marinette chooses her words carefully, after all she is unsure how she feels about being a secret girlfriend. A secret girlfriend for a year.

“It’s not that I wanted to keep you a secret,” Damian noticed her rise in emotion, “It’s that my family does not understand the definition of privacy very well, and I didn't want you to be overwhelmed with their overeager nature.

She finds the notion that Damians family was nothing like him a hilarious concept. On the other hand, she finds it hard to laugh in the moment. If they invaded privacy the way he says, she has too many secrets that were not hers to share at this moment. Concerning indeed.

“Well, if it is ok with you,” she pulls them to a stop, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I am not comfortable to meet your family. Yet.” Unable to stop himself, Damian kisses her dizzy, falling more in love with this woman by the second.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that.” He gasps out

“Oh, I think I have an idea,” She chuckles, “I will let you know when I am ready. Deal?”

“The best deal I have ever made in my life,” He deadpans. She laughs while pulling them back to walking, both hearts lighter. Damians with not having to share her yet. Marinettes with the extended time to get her affairs in order. She reaches up to her earrings, rubbing them in concern.

Damian all but struts into wayne tower later that night, gleeful to break the news that Marinette didn't want to meet them.

Jason and Tim were talking to Dick on the monitor when Damian entered, obviously arguing about Damian and his love life.

"Let Damian have this you two. He deserves the respect."

"But-" Tim starts only to be cut off with Damian clapping him on the shoulder.

"Listen to Grayson."

"Hey Damian. Congrats on the girl, nice to see you finally living like a normal human being" he jests

“Thank you Grayson. It's nice to see someone respecting privacy around here.”

“You just gotta wait until this weekend Timmy, a chance to practice your patience” Grayson tries to placate the quickly growing in agitation Tim.

“Actually, She isn't ready to meet you guys, so she won't be coming this weekend.” Damian feels smug watching their faces morph from confusion into hurt.

And with that Damian moves to get ready, leaving them to process the reality of not getting to meet Marinette.

"I know where she lives, let's go Tim" Jason starts to the elevator, forgetting his already in costume.

"Jason. Tim. Stop." Bruce enters, her Batman glare on. "If Damian is serious about Marinette, and she about him, then we need to respect their wishes. She could be a part of our family and we do not need to give her the wrong idea"

"Thank you Father. Now let's go, there was chatter yesterday that Penguin is up to something."

The boys begrudgingly get ready, each leaving the basement on their own time. Tim and Jason exchange a look. They won't meet her yet, but they are totally going to research her.

Everything came to a head for Damian and Marinette however a few weeks later. They were enjoying a relaxing afternoon class free in her apartment. Damian was reading on her couch while she hemmed a dress on the floor in the corner.

Her phone rang from the counter top, Marinette scrambling to get to it in time. "Maman!" She exclaims in French, giving Damian a smile, before focusing on her call.

"Oh no no." She laughs, “I have been a good girl.” Damian can’t help but smile at listening to her.

“How are you Maman?”

“Well I hope the delivery gets finished on time.” Marinette’s stomach turns as she watches the back of Damians head. She now leans against the counter.

“Hows Papa?” Damian notices her pause, glancing behind him to see her face twisted in worry. He sets his book down, getting up to see whats wrong. Marinette just holds a finger up to him. ‘One moment’ she mouths.

“Huh uh. What?” Her brows furrow further. “Ok Maman, I’ll be there soon.”

“What's wrong Habibti?” Instead of going to Damian she runs to her bedroom, blindly packing a bag.

“My Grandfather is not doing well. The doctors says he doesn't have long. I have to fly home. I don't know how long I will be gone.” She glances at Damian sadly, “Sorry I have to cancel all our plans.”

“Hey don’t say that, your family needs you. This is out of your control.”

“Thank you Chéri,” She kisses him softly before closing her bag.

“Would you like me to take you to the airport?” Damian follows her out of the apartment, holding her bag while she locks the door.

“No I’ll be ok. I would like time to prepare myself.”

“Please call me when you land, I need to know you’re safe.” He helps her flag down a cab.

“Of course Chéri,” They share one last kiss before Marinette climbs into the back seat. “See you soon.”

“See you soon.” Damian watched as the cab pulled away from the curb, the emotion of worry overtaking him. He had felt concern for his own well being before, but never for another person this personally. Especially Marinette's grandfather. It was an odd experience.

Damian decided he might as well go get some training in with the free afternoon he has. AS soon as he entered the Manor, his phone rang, caller ID informing him it was Drake.

“Yes Drake?”

“I found something troubling, I need you at the manor,” Tim hesitates before adding, “Please.”

“Lucky for you I am already here.” Damian hangs up before heading to the cave entrance.

He is surprised to see Drake and Todd in the cave, along with Grayson. Damian narrows his eyes at each of them before finally noticing what they had pulled up on the computer. It was a complete profile on Marinette. Damian felt his blood pressure rise.

“What did I tell you guys about-!”

“We know but just stop and listen, you will be thanking us in a few minutes.” Jason places a hand on his shoulder.

“What do you mean I will be thanking you?” Damian all but snarls, “What did you do?”

“Just listen to this,” Tim starts pulling up an audio file, “It’s a good thing you haven’t been dating this girl for very long.” Before Damian can get another word in Tim presses play.

“Maman!” Marinette's voice exclaims, the sound normally music to his ears, but now he just feels dread.

“Are you alone Ladybug?” The voice does not belong to Marinette's mother, or rather can’t, Damian has never talked to the woman. This voice is young, strong and serious.

“Oh no,no” Marinette's voice laughs, “I have been a good girl.” Dread sets in further.

“Understood.”

“How are you Maman?”

“It’s time Ladybug.”

“Well I hope the delivery gets finished on time”

“We are waiting at the temple. The situation is dire.”

“How’s Papa?”

“We have purchased tickets for you already. Chat Noir will meet you in the UK. You will then take a flight to Tibet.”

“Huh uh. What?” Her voice now takes on a more serious note. He had been sitting across from her while she had this coded conversation. Damian felt like a fool.

“Viperion will then meet you in the village Dangquka to escort you the rest of the way.”

“Ok Maman, I'll be there soon”

Dick watches as Damian starts to lose his balance, quickly moving a chair behind him to collapse into. Damian just stares at the computer screen, gripping his face this one hand, his other fist clenched.

“I knew something was up every time she declined to meet us so I started investigating. Her background check came back clean, so I bugged her phone.”

“Just stop talking Drake.” Damian all but whispers, that stops Tim in his tracks.

“Wow she had you whipped, and you guys didn't know each other that long.” Jason mutters

“I think knowing her for almost two years is quite a long time Todd.” Damian didn't have the energy to even get loud.

“Wha? Two years? But how?” Tim’s voice starts to tremble. He feels terrible. He didn't know they had been together that long.

“You guys just assumed because you only found out about us a few weeks ago, that must have been we started dating. I never told you how long we had been together.”

“Damian are you ok?” Dick finally spoke, his tone gentle and quiet. No judgment, just concern.

“Am I ok?” Damian laughs, “AM I OK?” Damian had finally processed everything, he jumps out of the chair marching up to Tim.

“Whoa Damian calm down!” Dick springs into action.

“No! Do you realize what you took from me Drake. DO YOU?” He points his finger into his face.

“Damian I didn't know-”

“No you just couldn't mind your own business!” Damian takes a deep breath, “She is my normal. She treats me like a normal person and with respect. She is kind to everyone she meets, and is the most patient person I have ever met.

Damian glances at her picture still plastered on the monitor. Her eyes reflect everything he just said about her. Just from this picture you can see how much joy she brings to the world. She is so beautiful and Damian for the life of him can’t imagine her being some sort of spy. Or assassin his mind supplies, remembering how the caller had mentioned a temple.

“Would you rather have been kept in the dark if it meant keeping that sense of normalcy.” Todd speaks, his eyes narrowed, “We were only trying to help.”

“If you really want to help then you two are going with me to get to the bottom of this.” Damian marches past the three men, and out of the cave, ignoring the question.

“You two suck.” Dick says quietly. “You’re lucky I'm in town to cover for you.” With that he also makes his exit, leaving the last two to only stare at the ground.

Dick finds Damian in the sparring room, obliterating dummies with his sword. He patiently waits for him to acknowledge his presence. Damian pauses, using his shirt to wipe the first drops of sweat from his face.

“What do you want?”

“Want to spar?” Damian is bewildered, but he doesn't dwell on it. He has to let out his aggression somehow.

“You had nothing to do with this mess.”

“So, you need a sparring partner.” Dick takes off his shirt and shoes, meeting Damian on the mat. “Plus sparing has always helped clear your head.”

Dick doesn't wait but goes straight for the attack, kicking high. Damian easily evades, spinning around with a kick of his own. They continue to exchange blows in quick succession, slowly only between pieces of conversation.

“She was the first person who really saw me.” Damian grunts as he throws Dick over his shoulder, “And the first girl I have ever liked.”

Dick spins himself back into a standing position, hands at the ready for the next attack. “Do you love her?” The question doesn't catch Damian off guard like he thought it would.

“Yes.”

“Have you ever lied to her about Robin activities.” Dick jabs quickly at Damian's shoulders.

“Never, I just have never told her details.” He dances away from the punches, swinging out with a roundhouse kick. “Told her I have a night job. That I help Father with work and that I workout often.”

“What did you tell her when you got shot three months ago?”Grayson manages to get a hold on Damians shift, pinning him to the ground. But his does not hold him, after all Damian needs to keep moving to sort through everything.

“I didn’t tell her that. I didn’t want to worry her.”

“Impressive.” Damian gets a choke hold on Dick, tangling their legs together. “Let me ask you this. What if she does the same thing and that's why she lied to you?”

That causes Damian to pause long enough with his choke hold for Grayson to throw him over his shoulder. He lays on the mat, staring at the ceiling, working through that thinking.

“That would be the best outcome to all this.”

“And the worst?”

“She is the opposite and I got played like a fool.” Damian picks himself up, walking to the end of the mat signaling the end of the sparring match.

“Are you going to follow her or wait until she gets back?”

“Follow. What reason would she have to tell me the truth the second time?” he bends to gather his things.

“Do you fully distrust her now?”

Damian pauses, “Maybe, I don’t know. I just don't want to be caught off guard this time. Plus I already told them they are taking me.”

“Better get a move on if you want to beat her there.” He rubs Damian's head affectionately. Damian grins at Dick.

“Thank you Dick, I really needed that.”

“Go get her Tiger” With that Dick smacks his back before leaving the gym, calling for Alfred. Yes Damian thought, time to go find out what is really going on.

And so Jason and Tim had the most uncomfortable flight of their life, not looking forward to the flight back should things turn out even worse than they are now. Damian stayed silent the whole way, only staring out the window or flipping through his phone.

To say Bruce was unhappy with all three boys needing to leave the city was an understatement. Thankfully Dick was there to lighten the load and the blow. The sound of a ringing phone pulled Damian from whatever he was thinking about. He felt like he was going to break his phone he was gripping it so hard. He answers on the last ring.

“Marinette.” It’s all he can bring himself to say.

“Damian! I thought I was going to miss you,” She laughs, “It must be pretty late there.”

“Oh yea totally. How was your flight?”

“It was smooth, here safe and sound.”

“Paris right?” He asks, even though he knows that she isn't there, Damian is wondering to see how far she will go to lie to him.

“That's where my parents are,” she laughs again. It wasn't a direct answer. It wasn't an answer at all. Damian wasn't sure what to make of the misleading statement. It was almost like she didn't want to outright lie to him.

“I gotta go Chéri, I'll let you know when my flight back is so you can pick me up. I probably won't be close to my phone this week but I’ll text when I can ok?”

“Of course Habibti.” Damian pauses but figures he should go for it and say it at least once before this come to an end. “Love you, see you soon.” He quickly hangs up, not waiting for a response. He doesn't want to hear it back if she doesn't really mean it. He goes back to staring out the window, ignoring the boys staring at him.

Meanwhile Marinette stares at her phone in shock, the blush overcoming her face matched with a beating heart. With a shaky smile she turns to Adrian behind her, waiting to board the next plane with her.

“What's with that look?” He teases, looking over her shoulder at her phone. “Oh who's that, he's quite the looker.”

“That would be my boyfriend,” She giggles walking to board the plane. “You know that silly.”

“Yes, but I have never seen a picture. What's got you all gooey inside anyway?”

“He said ‘I love you’,” Marinette mumbles, throwing her bag into an overhead.

“Ohh serious then.”

“It will be when I get back, after all I’ll finally be able to tell him everything. I hate lying.”

“I know bug, and I’m sorry this is a bittersweet moment.” He takes her hand

“Me too. I wish it didn't have to happen this way.”

On the other plane the reds exchange a look before closing off the back of the plane, giving themselves a physical wall between them and Damian.

“He said ‘I love you’” Tim groans, “I really messed this up.”

“Yes but your heart was in the right place. We will find out the truth soon enough.”

“I hope I was wrong about her.”

“What else could the truth be. She’s obviously apart of something shady. It’s just a matter of what and how bad”

“Why would you think that? What evidence is there that its something bad?”

“Don't be ignorant Tim. No one takes phone calls like that when they don't have something to hide.”

“Yeah but-”

“You feel guilty, I get it, but don’t let that cloud your logic. Something is going on and we are going to find out what.”

Tim sits silently the rest of the way, electing to focus on flying and not let his emotional thoughts distract him. After all, this was just another investigation. Only this time it was Damian's girlfriend. Too late, he was emotionally involved. He had to make this right or better somehow.

“We’re here” Jason starts to land the plane in a clearing a few miles outside the village Marinette was due to arrive in a few hours time. Opening the divider, they find Damian asleep, a picture of Marinette pulled up on his phone.

“Let's pretend we didn't see anything. Follow his lead and get some sleep too. How long until she lands?”

“Ten more hours,” Tim answers glancing up from his device.

“Eight hours it is, night” Jason plops down into a chair, pulling his hood over his eyes.

“Night.” Tim goes back to the cockpit, trying to get sleep but as always, it doesn't come easy. Deciding not to waste precious hours on staring at the ceiling, he pulls up his report on Marinette looking for anything that could clue them into what she's into.

She wasn’t a model student but she wasn’t a delinquent either. Her attendance record improved as she grew up. She was involved in many different design contests and has had high profile clients requesting commissions. She was class representative for three years, zealously completing all projects and activities for her class with perfection.

She was a busy girl but never without time for her friends, family, and her neighborhood. Everything this girl did didn’t reflect the contents of the phone call at all. She had also never been to Tibet before. At least not that Tim had found. She had never been outside France before entering Gotham University.

So what was she doing all the way out here? And with who. The mysterious caller had mentioned two individuals besides herself. No amount of searching through aliases had Tim found anything on a Chat Noir, Viperion or even Marinette's code name, Ladybug.

“Time to go.” Tim jumps at Damian's voice, glancing behind him only to watch his retreating back out of the jet. Jason stands waiting for him at the end of the ramp, both hurrying to catch up with Damian.

The village of Dangquka was small, only taking up a small portion of the valley. The place almost looked sad, filled with sparse beige grass and barren mountains. The boys settled themselves into a cliffside, queuing up their binocular setting in their respective masks, watching for the girls' arrival.

“She’s almost here,” Tim says, his phone showing Marinette location as it travels quickly towards the town. They watch as an off road jeep pulls into the village, all the villagers gathering around. Marinette climbs out, a blond man following after from the driver's seat. She starts to greet all the villagers, obviously familiar with them. Damian zones in on a man that doesn't look like he belongs in the village.

His hair is dyed and his look screams rocker, even of his attire is more appropriate for the setting he’s in. Damian's hand obliterates the rock he's using to support himself as he watches the man pull Marinette into a hug, going so far as to bend his head into her neck. They stay that was for a minute before the blond man pulls them apart, motioning to the jeep. Marinette nods, taking the second boys hand and pulling him towards the jeep, climbing into the back seat with him.

She’s not just lying to me. She’s a femme fatale. Using me for some sick game, before she returns to her real boyfriend. Boyfriends? It doesn't matter. Damian's thoughts start to spiral before Jason picks him up with his collar.

“Come on lover boy, we have to follow them up the mountain.” And so they do, for eight hours. The sun had long since set, when they climb over a ridge and all gape at the temple settled at the base of a mountain, at the edge of a cliff. Damian is the first to pull himself together, quickly zoning in on the entrance. At the top of the stairs stand three women and one lone man, surrounded by what look like male and female monks.

Marinette climbs out of the vehicle, all the monks dropping to a bow at her appearance. The boys stand behind her on either side as she ascends the stairs. For the sake of tradition, Marinette does not shy away from the attention, but holds her head high. She has a duty to perform.

At the top she pulls the three women in for a hug, relishing the contact. She pulls back to take the hand of the man. He smiles at her, giving her hand a tight squeeze before an older man steps forward, bowing to escort her inside.

“Drake.”

“Already on it, we will have sound and video in five.”

“How does no one know about this place?” Jason grumbles

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Right then the sound from the temple kicks in, all silencing to hear everything. Tim holds the tablet out, everyone's eyes glued to the screen.

“It’s a blessing you made it when you did Marinette, he only has a few minutes left, the Kwami have done all they could.”

“That is good to hear, I will see him now.” Marinette enters a large chamber, quickly approaching the bed in the center, an older man struggling to breath lying upon it. He is surrounded by what look like many animal themed faires.

“Master Fu, I’m here.”

“Marinette, I am so thankful I got to see you one last time, especially to bestow the title upon you in person.”

“I know we have talked about this before Master but please reconsider. There is still time to choose one of the monks instead.”

Fu only breathes deeply, too tired to shake his head.

“I met someone. Please Master, just this once let me have this.”

“I am sorry Marinette but my choice is made.” Marinette starts to cry, her grip on his hand tightening.

“I do not want this curse,” She whispers.

“Do not call such an honor a curse Marinette. You were chosen for this and I ask that you humor this old man and accept your duty.” Fu tries to sound harsh.

“It is a curse, you are just lucky you do not have to go long without your memories.” Marinette then looks ashamed. “I apologize Master, that was harsh of me.”

“Do not apologize for stating a truth Marinette,” Fu chuckles, “I do not have long left to live.”

“Does not make what I said any less insensitive.” She adjusts her weight, tucking her legs under her. She waits patiently with a bowed head as the man gathers the last of his strength.

“I, Supreme Guardian Fu, relinquish my title to Marinette Dupain-Chang. That she will be the next Guardian of the Miracle Box until she passes the title onto another.” When Fu finishes speaking there is a bright flash of light and all the fairy like creatures disappear. They watch as Marinette reaches up to her ears. That's when Damian notices that the earrings that Marinette never took off were gone.

“Hello young lady, why are you crying?” The boys watch in horror as the man no longer recognized Marinette. She just smiled kindly, brushing her hand across his face.

“No reason, you must be tired, why don’t you rest?”

“Yes that sounds nice,” And with that the man passed away. Marinette wipes the last of her tears away before standing and exiting the room. Outside wait the three women from earlier as well as two young female monks.

“Come Mistress, we must get you ready for the ceremony.” The monks take her hands, leading her further down the hall.

“How are you Marinette?” The first girl to speak is a brunette, her hair wavy and short, the orange dye blending well with her skin tone.

“I am doing well Alya, you?”

“Great. My magazine just took off in Paris. Sales are good so far.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” She smiles her trademark smile, before sitting down for the younger girls to start her makeup and hair.

“I hear you are doing more than well,” The second woman speaks. She is a blonde, clothes obviously designer. “What's this I hear about a boyfriend?”

“Chloe” Marinette whines in embarrassment.

“What it's not my fault you didn't tell me. So what's his name? Do you have a picture?” Marinette just rolls her eyes before gesturing to her purse, leaving the girl to grab her phone. She whistles when she sees Damien's picture. The boy flushing as his brother snicker.

“His name is Damian.”

“How long?” The final girl joins in, her Japanese features beautiful and holding herself with confidence.

“Over a year of dating and almost two and knowing each other.” The girls a coo at that, even the Japanese girl. The other girls look almost uncomfortable at the relaxed atmosphere. Marinette notices, reaching up to stop the girls from working.

“Loosen up girls, no need to be so formal.”

“But tradition says that we are to be respectful to you Mistress.”

“Yes and to not speak out of turn. You are Supreme Guardian now”

“Please call me Marinette, and I don’t like these stuffy traditions. So don’t stress yourselves on my account.”

“Ok” They both sound slightly more relaxed but do not join in the the friends chatter.

“So why didn’t you bring Damian with you?” Alya asks, casually eating a platter of fruit.

“Because he doesn’t know.” All the girls look at her in shock.

“What” They all but yell. Damien narrows his eyes, focusing heavily on the conversation.

“Even if I had been allowed, how do you bring up this!?” She waves to the room around her, obviously meaning the temple as a whole. Damian's breath catches. She didn't have a choice in lying to him.

“Easy,” the Japanese girl starts, “You just say ‘Babe I’m being raised to be a leader of a super ancient and secret organization that guards magical jewelry.”

“Wow Kagami I didn’t know you had been hanging out with Adrian again” Marinette says dryly.

Damian falls back on his butt, shaking in relief. The truth wasn't even in the ballpark of what his mind was thinking. Magic. Of course he wouldn't have considered such a possibility due to his limited contact with it.

“It's the truth though,” Chloe chimes in, it can’t be that hard. She glances at the girls working on Marinette, electing to enact her new found tact and not to speak ill of the dead. After all, it was clear that Fu had forbidden Marinette from telling anymore people about the Order. Instead she says, “Now that you’re in charge are you going to tell him?”

“Yes. As soon as I get back. I don’t like lying.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That my grandfather was passing in Paris,” She sounds so ashamed, One of the girls smacking her hand as she tried to touch her face.

“Well I think the only thing you lied about was where you are if that makes you feel better-”

“It doesn’t,”

“-And technically Fu was like a grandfather to you. He had been training you since you were a child.” Chole continued as though she had never been interrupted.

She just pouts, closing her eyes for the girl to finish applying her makeup. She sighs in relief moving quickly to apply the red eye shadow and make the elaborate eyeliner wings.

“Well going back to Damian, how serious is it?”

“Uh-” Damian holds his breath, “I like to think serious, after all he did say-” She grows quiet at the end, raising her shoulders to hide herself.

"What was that?" Alya and Chloe grin mischievously leaning in close.

"He told me he loved me when I called him earlier" Marinette manages to get out, unable to hide the joy on her face.

"Please hold still, I'm almost done" the girl tries to sound respectful but she's obviously frustrated.

"Sorry"

"You said you think it's serious. That means you love him back yes?" Kagami asks. Marinette only sighs happily, doing her best to let the girls finish working on her.

"Well you both have great genes, your kids will look killer" It takes all Marinette's self control to not react to Chloe's teasing. You can tell how embarrassed she is by the statement from her shaking hands and red face.

"Done, time to change clothes." Marinette stands up and starts to undress. Damian's hand shoots out, slamming the tablet down against the rock face.

"What never seen her naked before" Jason teases.

"Whether or not I have is not your business and you two heathens don't need to watch a girl change without her knowledge you perverts"

"Ya' know Tim, I don't think he's ever seen her naked." Jason grins leaning down on Damian.

"I think you're right. Baby steps though, she his his first girlfriend"

"it's been long enough though that he should have by now"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Damian swats Jason off him, listening to see when he could bring visuals back up.

Marinette moved when needed as the girls put layer upon layer on her kimono, the lightweight fabric quickly weighing more together.

"Done ready to see yourself," Alya and Kagami pull her up to a mirror, standing beside her as she took in her appearance.

Her red eye shadow spread out to make it look like she was wearing a mask, the eye liner dramatic and making her eyes look more serious then she felt. Her lips were a pale red except for the center, which was a solid red line. The blue of her eyes, oddly not clashing with her makeup or clothes. The kimono was varying shades of red, black, dark purple, and dark blue. He hair was decorated with ornaments and beaded intricately, her braid cascading down her back.

"Wow, impressive guys. I don't even look like the same person"

"Mistress, it is time for everyone to gather." Each girl gives her a hug before leaving the room. Marinette takes a deep breath, stealing herself before marching out of the room.

She is escorted by the young woman before they leave her side to join the crowd gathered in the great hall. The boys turn the tablet right side up again, right as she walks in, past a large group of people.

Tim squints at the screen and starts mumbling to himself. Damian just glares at him before watching Marinette take a seat on not a throne but a very large cushion. Her back is straight as she bows her head and in return the room bows to her. Four people step forward, each holding a cup.

"Supreme Guardian. I offer this potion of health, that you may stay strong for the Order."

"Thank you. I gladly accept." She drinks before bowing again, the man retaking his place in the crowd.

"Supreme Guardian, I offer this potion of wisdom, that you may lead us with confidence.

"Thank you. I gladly accept"

"Supreme Guardian, I offer this potion of fortitude, that you may protect the Order."

"Thank you. I gladly accept" her gaze hardens as the final man steps forward.

"Supreme Guardian, I offer this potion of longevity, that you may lead the Order for many years to come." Marinette pauses as she takes hold of the cup, murmurs stirring as she does not accept or drink.

"Thank you, but I will decline the potion of longevity. For now." The murmurs turned to outrage, Marinette patiently waiting for the room to quiet.

"Ah ha! Star Wars." Tim exclaims, the boys looking at him in confusion. "Her outfit, she looks like she's Queen Amidala"

Jason just nods in agreement while Damian turns back to the commotion building within the temple. Damian watched at Marinette's friends exchange looks of amusement and concern. The younger monks gently quiet down the older ones, whispering to listen and hear what she has to say. Finally the room quieted enough for Mariniette to be heard.

“I mean no disrespect. I understand the importance of tradition. However I am not on my own, the decision of extended life is a serious one and one I plan to discuss with my boyfriend.” The angry muttering starts to return at the mention of Damian.

“Boyfriend!?” A man yells, “How dare the this Supreme Guardian trample our traditions. Did Fu teach you nothing?” Marinette only narrows her eyes. Her lips are but a thin line now.

“You should revoke the title, Fu must have been confused to have chosen you.” A woman spoke this time. Damian feels his own blood start to boil, he can only imagine how Marinette must be feeling at this moment. If what he heard was correct, Marinette had been coming here most of her life. These people must be like family. But then Damian remembers what family truly means, and it's not only blood. He glanced to the men beside him, thankful for their presence in his youth and now. But he wasn't about to tell them that.

Marinette stands, hands folded in front of her and she stood in front of the man first. She bowed deeply, he takes a step back in shock. “I apologize but I did not want this position. I begged Fu to reconsider many times, but he would not.” She stands, meeting his gaze head on, “But my memories are too important to me to revoke the title.” She then walks to the woman who spoke up. She takes her hands in her own, gently squeezing.

“Fu was a wise man, just stubborn in his ways, much like many of you,” Her face his kind, but her words are hard like steel, “I will not allow you to speak ill of him.” She retakes her seat, “After all we both partook of the potion of wisdom, so perhaps I am not as foolish as you all believe.” She quips, looking satisfied with herself.

The room was dead silent except for the blonde man and woman struggling not to laugh alongside the redhead. Slowly everyone looked very proud of their new Supreme Guardian. “I am not out to destroy tradition, but to renew it and bring it into a new season. Change is good for the soul, and makes things stronger.” Marinette smiles gently at everyone, her warmth overtaking the room.

Damian can’t help but let his mouth hang open watching his girl tackle the room in a much stronger way than he would have. “You sure can pick em” Jason whispers next to him, almost like he’s afraid to break the spell. Damian can only nod, still in awe of this woman who decided to be his partner.

“Now tradition also says that as Supreme Guardian, I am to protect the identities of any holders of the Miraculous. With my goal to bring the Order into the new age, I feel it's important to function more as a collective than as a -” Marinette pauses to choose her words carefully, “group only lead by me, or a Supreme Guardian in general.”

“What do you mean?”

“Secrecy is still important, and magic protects us against a lot of things, but I feel as though we could be doing more for the world. That we shouldnt hide in the shadows as much. The world needs help, and if our magic can provide that then I think we should.”

“I wonder what their magic is? Do you think it has anything to do with those fairy things earlier?”

“I think Marinette is about to show us.” They watch as a hexagonal box is brought before Marinette. It is solid, there are no cracks along it to allude to any opening at all. It is painted with Chinese symbols in a deep red. With a wave of her hand the box spins, a new compartment opening with each spin until the top disappears altogether revealing what the boys could only assume was the magical jewelry. She takes a pair of spotted earrings from the top, after the last one is put in there was a flash of pink light revealing a small red creature.

“Hello again Tikki.” The creature, Tikki, flies up to Marinette's face, careful of her make up as she gives her the best hug she can.

“You look beautiful Marinette!”

“Thank you Tikki,” Marinette can’t help but laugh, “Shall we continue?”

“Yes my Guardian.” Tikki does her own little bow before floating over Marinette left shoulder, sending a small wave to the occupants of the room. Next Marinette grabs the ring that had sat in the box next to the earrings.

“Adrien Agreste. Please come forward.” The blonde man walks to her, bowing before her.

“In the past you were the holder of the Cat Miraculous. You were given responsibility over destruction. Do you desire to continue your responsibility of this miraculous? In doing so you swear your loyalty to me and will uphold your duty as the Cat.”

“Supreme Guardian, I decline your offer to hold the cat miraculous.” Marinette only smiles kindly at him.

“I thank you for your service and wish you well on your journey.” Adrian turns to walk away, but Marinette stops him. “Would you like one last goodbye?” Adrian doesn't look surprised at her kindness but takes the ring. In a flash of green light a small black creature that resembles a cat appears.

“Thank you for everything Plagg, I hope to see you again someday.” Plagg only sniff, obviously trying to appear unbothered with the goodbye.

“Knowing sweet cheeks over here, you only need to ask to say hello.” Adrian chuckles

“I will keep that in mind, so long Plagg.” and with that he removes the ring, Plagg disappearing once again. Adrian walks away feeling confident in his decision, he enjoyed his time with Plagg but he had other desires for the future, and being a superhero isn't one of them.

Marinette replaces the ring before taking out a necklace that looks like a fox tail. “Alya Césaire. Please come forward.” Alya also bows before Marinette, sending her a nervous smile.

“In the past you were the holder of the Fox Miraculous. You were given responsibility over illusion. Do you desire to continue your responsibility of this miraculous? In doing so you swear your loyalty to me and will uphold your duty as the Fox.”

“I must decline, Supreme Guardian,” she rushes to add, mentally scolding herself for messing up, “your offer to hold the fox miraculous again.”

“I thank you for your service and wish you well on your journey. Would you like to say goodbye?”

“Trixx and I said our goodbyes long ago, I thank you for the offer though.” Alay struggles to speak so formally, after all this is the same girl who once wondered if a pan was hot and touched it with her bare hand.

“Very well.” Marinette places the necklace back and pulls out a comb with a bee along the top. Before she can speak, Chloe is already standing in front of her, someone coughs behind her and with an exaggerated sigh she bows quickly to Marinette, holding out her hand. Marinette's lips quirk upward, the laugh barely contained.

“Chloe Bourgeois, in the past you were the holder of the Bee Miraculous. You were given responsibility over Subjection. Do you desire to continue your position of this miraculous? In doing so you swear your loyalty to me and will uphold your duty as the Bee.”

“Obviously, now let me see Pollen,” Chloe shrinks under Marinette's stare, but only a little, “please” Marinette relents, handing her the comb. Chloe puts the comb in her hair, at the base of her ponytail. With a flash of yellow light a creature resembling a bee appears, her large black eyes alight with laughter.

“My Queen, I know you are eager but you must be respectful.”

“Yeah yeah,” Pollen hugs her face much like Tikki did Marinettes. With a flick of her fingers over the comb Chloe is enveloped in a bright light. When the light clears, Chloe is now sporting a mostly black outfit with narrow dark yellow stripes throughout. She has long translucent wings along her back and antenna atop her head. Her mask is all black and what look like enforced gloves with spikes along the knuckles on her hands. She walks to stand behind Marinette.

“Nino Lahiffe. Please come forward.” The young man comes forward, but not before giving Alya’s hand a squeeze.

“In the past you were the holder of the Turtle Miraculous. You were given responsibility over protection. Do you desire to continue your responsibility of this miraculous? In doing so you swear your loyalty to me and will uphold your duty as the Turtle.”

“I’m sorry my- huh Supreme Guardian Ma’am, I decline the offer of yours, and Wayzz and I are, like, totally good.” Nino stumbles through his response, but very little embarrassed the laid back man anymore. Marinette can’t keep a small giggle from escaping.

“I thank you for your service and wish you well on your journey.”

“That was a train wreck,” Tim and Jason mutter at the same time.

“Kagami Tsurugi. Please come forward.” Kagami commands the most respect by far as she marches forward, bowing deeply before standing at attention in front of Marinette.

“In the past you were the holder of the Dragon Miraculous. You were given responsibility over Elements. Do you desire to continue your responsibility of this miraculous? In doing so you swear your loyalty to me and will uphold your duty as the Dragon.”

“I humbly accept your offer Supreme Guardian.” Kagami bows once more before taking the choker necklace. This time the flash of light is red, leading to the appearance of Longg the Dragon. There are no exchanges of pleasantries as she fastens the choker. Running her fingers along the bead in the center she also transforms.

She is wearing what looks like a red, black and gold bodysuit, the design flowing all over her body. The top she is wearing looks like a kimono, the hem just above her knees. On her hip rests a katana, her mask red and black trimmed with gold, blending with the horns that now adorn her head. She joins Chole behind Marinette.

“Luka Couffaine. Please come forward.” The final man steps forward, the one from the village. Damian can’t help but glare in distaste.

“In the past you were the holder of the Snake Miraculous. You were given responsibility over time. Do you desire to continue your responsibility of this miraculous? In doing so you swear your loyalty to me and will uphold your duty as the Snake.”

“I gladly accept Supreme Guardian.” He takes a bangle that looks like a coiled snake. With a flash of teal light, the snake creature appears.

“Welcome back young wielder.” he slithers as he bows to Luka and Marinette. The same as the girls, Luka runs his fingers over the bangle, and is left transformed in a teal light. He now has a hood that melds with his loose fitting suit, the pattern of a snakes head on top. He has a whip resting on his hip, attached to a belt. The dark teal of his clothes melding well with his black boots and mask. His eyes took on a more snake like appearance.

“Now that we have selected holders for tonight, I will call an end to the ceremony. I will be leaving in the morning.” The crowd grows restless again. “I have a life outside the temple, but I will continue to follow through on my duties from afar. I will take Kaalki with me for emergencies and will stay in contact with the holders.”

“And the box?” Someone shouts from the crowd.

“Will stay in your capable hands, as you are all guardians. I look forward to our next meeting” She takes a pair of glasses from the box before waving over it, sealing it once more. She stands once again to bow before leaving the room, her three protectors following. Tikki sits neatly in her hair, enjoying being close to her once again. Damian watches and Tim recalls the drone, leaving the occupants unaware of the intruders for now. He is unsure if Marinette will tell all of them.

“We better get a move on if you want to be back in Gotham to pick her up from the airport.” Tim starts working his way back down the mountain before stopping and looking back at the boys. “Could we just call the jet here?”

“And risk them hearing or seeing it? No, get a move on, we have a long hike ahead of us.” Jason laughs, pulling ahead of Tim, who grumbles but accepts his fate. And a long hike it was, when they finally get back to the jet, all of them are ready to drop from exhaustion.

“Who wants to start flying so we can use autopilot?” Jason groans, dropping into a seat.

“I will, I have a lot of thinking to do anyway.” Damian marches into the cockpit and closing it off from the rest of the plane.

“I haven't had coffee in almost 48 hours, this sucks?” Tim all but collapsed on the floor of the jet.

“Get sleep like a normal person then” Jason quips, throwing a pillow from the overhead at Tim before turning in himself. Tim stayed on the floor, grabbing the pillow and curling in on himself, it brain finally crashing.

Damian starts the plane, taking them back to Gotham. Once he reaches the proper altitude for autopilot a call comes in from the Batcave, revealing one Nightwing. “Hey there kid, I see you’re on your way back. How did it go?” Damian just gives a tired sigh, Dicks concern sky rockets.

“She is now a leader of a secret organization the protects magical jewelry, and the last leader forbade her from telling me about it and that's why she stretched the truth. My normal isn’t so normal after all” Dick can only whistle in disbelief.

“That's tough, obviously you’re going to tell her everything?”

“I have too. This whole mess started with secrets, I’m not leaving anything out.” Dick smiles at Damian. He is so proud of his growth and maturity.

“She is lucky to have you.”

“I'll be lucky to still have her after this is all over.” He groans rubbing his face in exhaustion. “I have to tell her everything.” Damian gives his a pointed look, Dick can only nod in agreement.

“Bruce will understand. If she’s the leaders of something that secret even we didn’t know about it, she knows how to keep a secret. After all the whole family knows her secret too, only fair.”

Damian sits quietly for a moment, glancing behind him before continuing, “I’m scared Dick. I’m so scared of losing her. I feel like I really messed up.”

“I really wish I could be certain for you, but I can’t. Just tell her everything and the pieces will fall into place. Every couple goes through a rough patch. Yours is just crazy.”

“I’m going to try and get some sleep now. See you in a few hours.” Dick gives a wave before signing off. Back in the cave, Bruce steps out of the shadows, still in his gear as well.

“He has grown so much.”

“He sure has,” Dick turns to face him, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“You seem certain that she isn’t going to kill him.” Bruce looks grim. His youngest is very serious about this girl, and the last thing he wants is for them to end it. Damian has worked so hard and deserves happiness.

“Call it my great intuition when it comes to romance” Dick winks at Bruce before walking back up to the manor. Bruce just grunts, still thinking about Damian. He really hoped that it does all work out, but the pessimist in him can’t help but think the worse.

Marinette wakes up in the morning, watching the sunrise over the Tibetan mountains. The sight leaves her feeling excited and refreshed. A new day, a new journey, and new goals. She hoped Damian understood and didn’t leave her for keeping all this a secret. She sighed thinking of the man back home, waiting for her to return believing she was in Paris, not Tibet. She hugged herself against the sudden chill from the mountains.

Damian was everything she wanted. He was straightforward and level headed. He always had something interesting to say and she loved listening to him talk about a variety of subjects. His sense of humor was quiet like himself, and she just felt so balanced when she was around him. He grounded her, keeping her thoughts from spiraling into crazy town.

Tikki came into her field of vision, smiling at her holder. She may not have wanted to be Supreme Guardian, but she will do great things for the Order, she just knew it. “What are you thinking about Marinette?”

“Damian. How much I love him. I am so scared that when I finally tell him, he won't be able to take it.” Her smile slides off her face being replaced with worry.

“Just tell him everything. I don’t believe he will leave you!” Tikki squeaks, flying around the room. Marinette laughs at her optimism, moving to get dressed for the day. “You guys are a great match”

“I don’t doubt you Tikki.” Marinette pulls her sweater over her head before putting the rose gold glasses on, Kaalki joining Tikki in the air. “Damien has helped with my spiralling, and normally I would be thinking the worst possible scenarios right now.” Marineete laughs before moving to finish packing her bag, “But no more of that! Only positive thoughts now!”

Exiting the room, Marinette waves to others walking through the halls, like she always has, but now they hesitantly wave back. The air thick with apprehension, and it frustrated Marinette to no end. By the time she reached the front steps, she was put out and ready to be back in Gotham, where no one knew her as ‘Supreme Guardian’. Where she was just Marinette.

Alya, Adrien, and Nino were waiting for her on the steps, Chole, Kagami and Luka waiting by the door for their orders. Marinette smiled and chirped good morning, each of them returning the sentiment. She turns to her three holders, smiling while performing her business for the day.

“Kagami, I have worked with you on the running's of the temple, are you able to stay for the next few months to ensure everything gets up and running?”

“Yes Mari, it won't be a problem.”

“Thank you Mi,” Marinette's spirits lift at the nickname, thankful that nothing has changed with her friends. She turns to Luka next.

“Luka I am tasking you with establishing relations between ourselves and the Justice League,” His eyes widen in surprise, “It is time they knew and perhaps we can offer assistance while working within the UN’s laws.”

“That is a very important job Mari, are you sure I am the right person for the job?”

“You have a level head on your shoulders Luka, and you have always been the most diplomatic out of all of us.” Luka smiles at the compliment.

“Very well, I will come visit when I have an update. I want to meet Damian as well.” Marinette scowls in embarrassment before returning Luka's smile.

“What do you need from me Mari?” Chole is practically vibrating, her eyes alight with desire and eagerness.

“Chloe, I need you find worthy holders for the temple. It is time to expand. I trust your judgment and for you to train them.”

“Me?” Chole stammers, tears gathering in her eyes. Chole had done a lot of growing up over the years, and she wished she had been quick to leave behind her childish and immoral attitude but change did take time. Everyone had been nothing but supportive and encouraging throughout her transformation.

And Marinette wanted her to handle such a delicate task. What is she chose wrong? What is she was the reason for the temple's destruction? What if, what if? Marineete quickly pulls her into a hug, whispering encouragement in her ear, Chole is quick to grab onto her sweater, the tears coming faster now.

“I could really screw this up Mari-”

“I don’t believe that for a second, I know you are the perfect one for this job.”

“But what if I-”

“Chole.” Marinette pulls back to smile at the woman, their eyes searching each other, before both becoming a matching hard gaze of determination.

“Of course Mari, I will visit with a report as well.” She gives a little salute, enticing a giggle from everyone present, before whipping her tears.

“I’ll see you all later, and good luck.” With that Mari descends the staircase, the three turning into the temple, the heavy doors closing behind them. The start of a new era, Marinette thinks fondly to herself, ready to be home. “Let's get to Paris everyone.” With a flick of her fingers, she transforms, and opens the portal, Nino and Adrien ribbing each other as they walked through, Alya only rolling her eyes before following, Marinette looks back one last time at the majestic temple, before stepping through herself, finally glad to actually be in Paris as she said she was.

Damian finds himself anxiously waiting for Marinette to tell him when she would be coming home. He missed her desperately, and really needed to have this conversation with her. But right now he just really missed having her in his arms, her laugh, her kisses, their cuddle sessions on her couch. He really missed his Habibti.

His phone started to ring, with trembling hands his goes to pick it up, only to almost drop it multiple times, finally answer on the last ring.

“There you go again, making me think I was going to miss you,” Her voice was refreshing, a drink for a dying man. Damian now feels the nerves of seeing her again, he can feel his heart pounding and the flows of adrenaline starting. Damian scowls, this isn't a battle, just a simple phone call with his girlfriend.

“I was so excited to hear your voice I almost dropped my phone.” Damian had started being more honest with his feelings a few months in, Marinette affect on him an unknown welcomed change.

“Awe, well lucky for you I am boarding the plane now, I’ll be home in eight hours.”

“I’ll be waiting”

“See you soon.” She pauses on the line, “I love you Damian” She breathes out, the sound making Damians heart goes wild, and the guilt in his gut come back with a vengeance.

“I love you too” With that Damian hangs up, and drops his head into his hands. Eight hours alone with his thoughts, and emotions. He starts to cry, fear over taking him. Damian could face down Killer Croc, he could jump from skyscraper to skyscraper without flinching. He knew the consequences if anything went wrong in those situations. A respectful fear of the known.

But this. Telling Marinette how he didn't trust her, followed her and betrayed her in such a way. That scared him like never before. He couldn’t even begin to plan how this would go, how she would react, how his life would be afterwards. He felt sick to his stomach, all his muscles clenching around his organs, pulling his spiraling mind into the mess.

Dick knocked on his door, entering quietly, finding a red eyed Damian staring at the wall, his hands clenched tightly in front of his face. He simply sat beside him, offering an encouraging pat on the back, patiently waiting for him to initiate. He didn’t have anywhere to be, Kori understood the importance of him staying in Gotham awhile longer.

“I have never felt this kind of fear before.” Damian whispers, he unclenches his hands, trembling however his eyes do not move from the wall. “I can’t lose her Dick. Look at me now, how could I survive without her.” He chokes up, the thought of her leaving and hating him too much.

“Tell me the qualities you like about her.” All tension leaves Damian, his eyes losing the frantic fear and taking on a soft love.

“She is fierce and strong. She brings so much joy and beauty to this world. Her mind is like no other, always thinking and planning. She takes any opportunity presented to care for others.”

“Does she seem like the kind of person to just walk out without resolving issues?”

“No, but she did hide from me one time after a misunderstanding.”

“But you guys were able to talk it out?”

“Yea she said she would never ignore me again.”

“Is she someone who goes back on her word?”

“Never.” Damian is angry at Dick for suggesting such a thing. Dick only smiles at Damian and pats him on the back, standing to leave.

“Then trust what you know about her, what you value in her. Everything will be fine Damian.” He only nodes, back to staring at the wall, but less tense then he when Dick first entered the room. Everything would be fine.

Damian now stand in the airport, he stands perfectly still despite the bundle of nerves racking his insides. He sees her before she sees him, her attention is on her phone, a small frown pulling at her lips, the new glasses on her face making her only cuter.

He quickly walks to her, she looks up at him surprised when he immediately pulls her close. She melts into the hug, his strong arms resulting to her. She giggles as he refuses to let go for another two minutes, her protest finally being headed when he steps back, taking her bag in one hand and her small hand in the other.

“Missed you too dork.” Marinette giggles, she glances at him, but his doesn’t look at her. He only gives her a strained smile, leading them back to his car. Marinette doesn’t think anything of it until the car ride is al silent as the walk through the airport.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” Marinette's heart freezes for a moment when Damian tenses, hands tightening around the steering wheel. She starts to feel like something is wrong, Damian was hiding something.

“Huh, not really.” He mumbles, eyes never leaving the road. Marinette starts to panic, his behavior setting her on edge. Now Marinette, I’m sure it’s nothing bad. No spiraling. She takes a deep breath. You’re imagining things, nothing is wrong.

The car ride continues in silence, Marinette staring out the window, trying to get a grip on her emotions and keeping herself from coming up with outlandish theories for Damian's attitude. She glances at him, the wrinkles in his face showing how truly on edge he was. No, Marinette tells herself, something is wrong.

“What's wrong Damian?” Again he stiffens, she watches as he swallowed thickly, adams apple betraying his nerves. She narrows her eyes, watching as he starts to sweat. He opens and closes his mouth multiple times before speaking.

“I made a mistake.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he pulls over, Marinette's apartment building looming in front of them. “We can talk inside.” He quickly gets out of the car, Marinette scrambling to catch up.

Ok so he made a mistake. It probably isn't that bad. He probably spilled something on my sketchbook, or he messed up the dress I was working on, or he met someone and- nope don't finish that thought Marinette. This is Damain we are talking about. Whatever his mistake was, it's not that bad.

She catches up to Damian as he is unlocking the door, dropping her bag right away and taking a seat on her couch. She joins him, staring out the large windows, enjoying the view while she waits for him to start speaking. Or at least she was trying to. Her hands are trembling as she plays with the fingers, trying to remain calm.

“You don’t deserve me” Is all he says, and those simple words break open the dam holding back Marinette's irrational emotional state. The tears start small, before they are quickly falling off her chin and into her hands. She couldn’t believe he would do such a thing, it was the only explanation to everything. Damian cheated on her.

The sudden I love you, the jittery behavior, unable to meet her eyes. Guilt radiated off him in waves, the awareness of the emotion suffocating her now. It all makes sense. She was in shock, she was only gone a week. Was their relationship that fragile, it's a good thing she hadn’t told him anything yet. She feels her heart harden. She will not trust so easy again.

“This is all Tim’s fault, just so you know. I-” He glanced at her now, dread filling him as he sees her crying, Damian had never seen her cry before now. He was not sure what to do.

“How is Tim at fault for you cheating on me?” She chokes out, now looking angry and confused. Damian joins in on the confusion.

“What are you talking about Marinette? I have never cheated on you” Now he's panicked. Where had she gotten such an idea?

“But you said,” She starts, her sentences breaking up with her shuddering breaths, “that you made a mistake, that I don’t deserve you. You are giving off so much guilt!” She stands, Damian leaning back from the angry woman in front of him. “Explain what the hell is going on right now!

“Tim bugged your phone because he was suspicious of you. We followed you to Tibet and we saw everything at the temple.” Damian spits everything out as quickly as he can, seeing Marinette angry at him for the first time scaring him.

Her face morphs between confusion, anger, shock, and understand before she settles on shock. She retakes her seat on the couch, Damian scoots closer taking her hand in his own. “He did what to my phone?”

“He bugged it. They were trying to protect me, stupidly, and when they played the recording of your call I didn’t know what to think. I thought you were like an assassin or something.” She snorts at that. If only she knew.

“How did Tim do that?” Damian looks deep into her eyes, he finds himself getting lost but finally knows how to answer her. His family deserved this after the breach of privacy they did to Marinette.

“He is Red Robin. I told him to not do a background check on you, but he did anyway and needed to find the reason you didn’t want to meet the family. You could say paranoia is a family trait.” Marinette smiles softly, taking Damian's face in her hand.

“Ironic that two people with important secrets find each other.” The looks she gives him is one of understanding and love. She is taking this too well.

“Why aren’t you angry with me?” He chokes out, “Why are you taking my lack of trust in you so well?”

“You thought I was an assassin Damian,” He scowls at her teasing grin, “and I was going to tell you anyway.”

“But-”

“Nope, I forgive you. After all I did lie to you. I should be the one apologizing.”

“You weren’t allowed to tell me, I can’t hold that against you.” Her eyes widen in surprise, her mouth making a cute o shape.

“How did you know that?”

“We had a drone enter the temple so we could see and hear what was going on.” Damian hesitates a moment but continued, “I was afraid to see what was going on. I didn't want it to be like the temple I crew up in.” He shouldn’t have said that.

“What temple Damian?”

“Please understand why I haven’t told you this before,” He can’t back down now. He hasn’t lied to her yet, and he isn’t going to start now.

“It can’t be that bad Damian.” She sounds so understanding and reassuring, squeezing his hands before smiling at him.

“You would probably wish I had cheated on you.” She looks more apprehensive now, but stays firm. “I was raised by the league of assassins,” understanding shines in her eyes.

“At the age of eight, as a right of passage of sorts I had to complete a mission.” Damian starts to feel sick, telling her this. Surely she will run for the hills once he tells her this. “I was assigned to assasinate, murder, a man. I didn’t know his name, or why the league needed him dead. Just that I had to do it, and I didn’t want to disappoint my Mother and Grandfather.”

Damian avoided looking at her, resigning himself for her to leave and never talk to him again. She takes her hands out of his, the action hurting but Damian Understands, he wouldn’t want to touch a murder either. Once again Marinette surprises him, by climbing into his lap. She takes his face in her hands, staring deeply into his eyes, using her thumbs to wipe away his tears.

“I love you Damian Wayne. Skeletons and all.” She kisses him firmly, trying to put all her emotions into the kiss, trying to make him understand the love she has for him. She smiles into the kiss as he wraps his arms around her slim frame. He deepens the kiss, accepting all her love, relieved to be blessed by Marinette’s beautiful soul. An Afreet such as himself didn’t deserve the touch of one as pure and genuine as her.

“I don’t deserve you.” Damian whispers, his words thick with emotion as he tried not to cry.

“If anyone deserves love and kindness its you Damian. And I’m never going to stop giving you that.” Damian holds her tighter, head resting on her shoulder while hers on his head. This moment right here, He wanted it to continue forever. She didn’t run and He wasn’t going to lose her now.

“Marry me.” She pushes back on his shoulders, giving herself a clear view of his face. “Marry me and stay by my side forever. Let me return all your kindness for the rest of my life. Let me love you and cherish you. Let me be your husband Marinette, Habibti.”

She starts to cry again, but Damian doesn’t panic this time because there is a bright Marinette smile accompanying the tears. “Yes. Marry me and let me shower you with the love you deserve. I am going to never let you go.” She squeals as Damian stands, spinning her around the room, kissing her face and neck as they dance with each other around the apartment.

“I like that promise.” They kissed once more, lost in each other's devotion. Both content with no more secrets, and the love found in each other. Damian cherishing a love he had never known and Marinette cherishing freedom in following her heart. Both making decisions for themselves for what feels like the first time. A decision to be happy.

Part Two

#daminette #maridami #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

152 notes · View notes

spacebatisluvd · 4 years ago

Link

Summary: Entrapta receives an invitation.

Content Warning: A neurotypical writer attempting to portray an autistic character (with respect, compassion, and love, but I recognize there’s a chance I’ve fumbled here—just know it’s unintentional), Sea Hawk, Hordak’s poor sense of self-worth, cult-typical abuse, veiled references to masturbation, genital discussion, discussion of sex and sexual relationships.

Entrapta looked through the microscope, studying the micro-welds she’d made. Her mouth twisted a little, dissatisfied with the results. She sighed. “Emily, make a note—I need more silver solder. This prototype is a bust.” She tossed it behind her head, hearing it crack against the ground a moment later. One of the little recycling bots would be by to pick it up and take it apart soon enough, making sure nothing went to waste.

She glanced at Emily. “You know, Hordak’s really good with delicate work like this. His hands are so steady, and his welds are so...precise.” She gave a happy little shiver. “I wanted to surprise him with a working prototype, but maybe I should just give him the designs and let him build it. That’s still a surprise, right?”

Emily made a negative-sounding beep. Entrapta winced. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.” She stood, stretching. “I just need to make a working prototype—it doesn’t have to be pretty, just functional!” She used her hair to perform a tight backflip, shaking out her limbs as her feet came to rest on the ground once more. “Okay! Let’s do this—Emily, play recording.”

Emily made a happy whirring sound, the top half of her chassis spinning. Then Hordak’s recorded message began to play. Entrapta shut her eyes, listening to him describe the far-off stars that were normally too dim to see with Etheria’s many moons. She knew he’d probably assumed she would only listen to it while gazing up at those stars, but she’d found herself listening over and over again, lulled by the sound of his voice, even if she’d long since memorized his words.

She sat down and went back to work, adjusting her initial design into something more workable. When Hordak returned, they could refine and revise her work. She just needed to provide proof of concept. S he hoped it would work. She thought it would. The data indicated that it should, but she couldn’t exactly test it. Well. Maybe if she asked Kadroh...but would he guess what it was for? She knew Hordak would prefer to keep this—

“What?” she asked, looking up when Emily insistently butted against her. “What is—?“ Then she realized her communicator had been ringing for quite some time now. “Oh! Answer call!”

Scorpia’s face appeared on-screen, accompanied by Perfuma. “Hey!” she said, waving a claw. “I was getting a little worried there. We called twice, and I didn’t want to bother you—“

“I’m not bothered at all! If I was in the middle of something dangerous, Emily wouldn’t have interrupted me.”

“...dangerous?” Perfuma asked, gripping the front on her shirt more tightly.

“Oh, good!” Scorpia said, while Perfuma frowned. “I just wanted to invite you to the flower festival.”

“Flower festival?”

Perfuma stepped forward, smiling a little. “Yes! Plumeria has an annual flower festival during the week of the summer solstice. It celebrates the transition from a time of renewal and recovery to a time of joy and growth!” Entrapta smiled while Perfuma spoke, waiting for her to finish, but she stopped abruptly. The silence lingered.

Entrapta checked the data pad.

“Hold on, I think there’s a lag. Can you repeat the last part? I missed your explanation.”

“Um.” Scorpia and Perfuma looked at each other.

Clearing her throat, Scorpia said, “It’s uh, basically a big party to celebrate summer. There’s flower crowns and food and music. Perfuma says it’s a lot of fun. I was hoping you, um, might want to come too?”

Entrapta’s hair curled and twisted. “Are a lot of people going to be there?”

“Oh, yes.” Perfuma smiled widely. “People come from all over the region for the festivities. We’re hoping all members of the Princess Alliance—“

“And their partners!” Scorpia added.

“—will be able to attend.”

“Oh.” Her hair knit itself into anxious hands, the psuedo-fingers laced together. “I don’t know....” She looked away, thinking of all the people that would be in attendance. Would it be like the Prom or another formal party? Could she skirt the edges and just observe? (Would that be weird?) On the other hand, they’d specifically called to invite her, and this wasn’t like Princess Prom—they didn’t have to include her at all. Despite her concerns about the crowd, it was hard to pass up what seemed like an obvious overture of friendship. “Can I think about it?”

Scorpia blinked. She looked at Perfuma, scratching the back of her neck. “Um. Sure. Take all the time you need! The party’s in a couple weeks, so you’ve got time.” She smiled. “Hopefully, Mermista will let Hordak take some time off, so he can come too.”

Her hair frizzed. “Hordak’s invited?”

Scorpia nodded. Perfuma looked at Scorpia, who returned her gaze, eyes wide. After a beat of silence, Perfuma said, “Y...yes. If you come, he may...join you. As your guest.”

Entrapta couldn’t help but spin in place, her hair coiling under her to lift her high. She hugged herself, humming giddily. As she dropped back down to the ground, her hair formed a large cushion to catch her. “Really?!”

Scorpia beamed, and Perfuma exhaled slowly, though she too smiled. “Yes. Really,” Perfuma said. She looked to Scorpia, who offered her the Scorpinoid version of a thumbs up.

“Well, that changes things. I don’t think he’s ever been to something like this before. I’d really like to bring him. He hasn’t had a lot of opportunities to engage in leisure activities, and I’m trying to get him to explore and experiment with activities he might find enjoyable. This seems like an ideal opportunity.”

Perfuma looked at Scorpia again, and Scorpia slung an arm over her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Yep. This would be perfect for that, right Perfuma?”

The other princess smiled, exhaling again. “Right. It’s definitely the perfect opportunity for the former—“

“My former boss!” Scorpia interrupted, “Yep! Perfect—perfect opportunity to see if my former boss can, um, relax.” She blinked, and withdrew her claw from Perfuma’s shoulders to press it against her chin. “Actually, that’s a good question. Can he?”

“In very specific circumstances,” Entrapta said.

Perfuma looked between Scorpia and Entrapta before saying, “As long as he behaves himself.”

Entrapta cocked her head. “I don’t really know what you mean by that; Hordak is very well-mannered.”

Scorpia was already reassuring her, though. “Of course he will! I’m sure we won’t even notice he’s there.”

“Oh, you’ll probably notice him. His height makes him stand out,” Entrapta said. “If that’s going to be a problem, I’m not sure how to fix it.”

“No! Nope—Hordak’s height is not a problem,” Scorpia said very quickly, watching Perfuma. “Well, anyway, I, um, I hope to see both of you soon. Bye!” She hung up before Perfuma could say goodbye. Entrapta didn’t mind. As soon as the communicator cut out, she called Hordak.

His image resolved a moment later. “Hello, Star—“

“Entrapta!”

Hordak’s ears folded back, and he glared at the back of Sea Hawk’s head. “Hi!” she told them both, waving. “I just got a call from Scorpia—“

“Ooh. What did she say?” Sea Hawk asked.

“Well...” She rolled the word around, bouncing a little on her toes. “Plumeria’s going to have a flower festival during the solstice, and we’re both invited to come!”

Sea Hawk’s eyes widened. “You are?”

She nodded, bouncing a little more. “Mmmh-hmm. Scorpia really seems to want us to come. And Perfuma too! Well.” Her hair deflated a little. “I think she was excited? It’s hard to tell.” Perfuma always seemed so nice...until she suddenly wasn’t.

The data pad twirled as Sea Hawk ran off with it. “You have to go—both of you. It will be the perfect setting for romance . What are you you wearing? Wait, don’t tell me right now. I’ll call you later, and we can plan. Don’t worry about Hordak’s wardrobe; I’ll make sure he dresses appropriately.”

She cocked her head. “There’s a dress code? Scorpia didn’t mention that.”

“Oh, yes. A dress code—for love!”

The data pad was snatched from his hands, and Hordak’s face appeared, though he was glaring off-screen at Sea Hawk. “That is enough.” He shook his head, ears back, then he faced the data pad. “My apologies, Starlight. I believe he is being overly optimistic as well as overly involved. Reconstruction will not be complete by the solstice, and I do not believe Mermista will give me to leave to attend—with travel, I would be gone for nearly ten days, and I doubt she would approve of that.”

“What makes you say so?”

“I conquered her country and essentially destroyed Salineas.”

“You think she’s still upset about that?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

His ears twitched. “I will ask, of course.”

“Okay. I mean...” She looked away, running her fingers through her hair. “It’s all right. Maybe next year?”

“Perhaps.”

Off-screen, Sea Hawk yelled, “No! This is unacceptable! I will not stand by and allow such a travesty.”

Hordak looked at him. “You are being dramatic. This is not—“

“A travesty, I say!” The data pad jerked, then the camera lifted high—from the little she could see, Hordak was holding it overhead to keep it out of Sea Hawk’s reach. “How can you stand by and accept this? Are you not a man?”

“I am a clone, and I do not understand why my gender is important to the conversation.”

Sea Hawk made a wordless sound of mourning. “You aren’t willing to fight for your love?”

“There is nothing to fight! The treaty clearly stipulates I must prioritize the restoration of Etheria above my own personal happiness. Considering the destruction I wrought waging a completely senseless war—considering I brought Prime here, to the very doorstep of this world, I think those terms are more than fair! And considering that you yourself fought in both conflicts, I am stunned you are so determined that I break those terms.”

“It’s just ten days!” Sea Hawk said, “Besides, you haven’t taken a day off since you got here and that cannot be healthy.”

Entrapta blinked. “Hordak, is that true?”

As if abruptly remembering she was still there, he turned the data pad so she could see them again, though he was still scrupulously keeping it out of Sea Hawk’s reach. “Well. Yes. I do not require—“

“Hordak! I know you know that taking breaks is important—the Horde soldiers were allowed time off.”

His ears folded back. “Of course they were—Etherians are not very productive if they aren’t permitted unstructured free time periodically. My Force Captains insisted this was true and research seemed to prove them correct. But I am not Etherian. I do not need—“

“That’s ridiculous!” Sea Hawk said, “Everyone needs to take time off.”

“Clones do not. Even when at rest, we were put into stasis pods and our neural networks were used as relay stations for the hivemind.” He cupped a protective hand over the back of his neck, and Entrapta slammed her welding mask down, trying to keep out the thoughts of Prime and what had been done to Hordak and Kadroh and their brethren. Hordak noticed. “It was not that bad—“

“Don’t.” She exhaled slowly, voice shaking. “Don’t minimize what he did.” Through the mask, everything took on a soft teal tone. It made everything feel distant and ethereal, like she was looking at a world encased in glass. The tension in her chest eased, though the pit in her stomach lingered.

“Fine,” Hordak said, his voice soft. “The fact remains—I do not require time off to maintain productivity.”

With her mask on, she could hear her own breathing, steady and strong, and her voice echoed faintly. “Etherians do not regard time off merely as a necessity. It is considered inhumane to force someone to go without for long periods of time.”

“Yes. Because it is a necessity. I understand that—“

“You clearly don’t.”

He shut his eyes and his ears folded back. He exhaled slowly before saying, “I will ask Mermista.”

She lifted her mask a little. “...I just want you to take better care of yourself.”

“I will ask Mermista, but I don’t want you to be disappointed when she says no.”

“If she says no, then I’m coming over there. And we’ll go to the beach. And get ice cream. And maybe go swimming, if the salt water won’t damage your ports.”

His ears twitched, and his features softened. “Though I am uncertain of the swimming, I would otherwise be amenable to that.”

“Okay. Promise?”

His mouth twitched a little. “If it pleases you, then yes; I promise.”

She pushed the welding mask up the rest of the way. “Excellent. I’ll speak to you later, then. Unless there’s something else?”

“Nothing for now. Goodbye, Starlight. We will speak soon.”

Sea Hawk waved. “Bye, Entrapta! Never fear—I will use my masculine wiles to seduce my lady love, and convince her to release your...um—to release Hordak to you!” Hordak shut his eyes, and though it looked like Sea Hawk had more to say, the feed suddenly cut out.

Entrapta smiled to herself and resumed working on the prototype.

The next morning, a robot delivered a small package with her breakfast. Seeing that it was from Salineas, she made a high-pitched, happy sound and tore it open. Inside, she was surprised to find several sea shells, along with a note that merely said, “The shells are for Kadroh.” Among the shells, she found a data chip that was surely for her.

With a happy hum, she plucked the chip from the package and set the box aside, attaching the chip to her pad to see what he’d sent. It contained two files. One was her research notes. The other was her procedure proposal for their Intimacy Log. Seeing that, she had to get up, pacing and using her hair to flip and twist as she completed a circuit of her suite of rooms—her excitement simply couldn’t be contained, though she cautioned herself aloud, trying to minimize her expectations. After completing a third circuit, she finally felt settled enough to actually read what he’d sent. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do this!” She shook out her hands and settled back on the bed, opening her proposal.

She smiled a little, reading his notes. She wished he was here; she would have loved to demonstrate how she would ‘reward him for good behavior’—and to test out the newly revealed sensitive spot behind his ears. In fact, she could demonstrate the former by showing him how much she appreciated his willingness to reveal the latter to her. She hummed again, reading his response to her question about biting. It wasn’t a ‘no’, and she was eager to see what he might mean by a “strong reaction”, though she would wait until he was ready for such a step, of course.

Then she saw the short paragraph he’d written at the end.

‘I do not think it would be wise to extend your study to my genitals at this time. I have limited knowledge of them myself; I’m not even sure if I am capable of penetrative sex, though I understand that is not necessarily a requirement. I know enough to be certain that my genitals differ from all standard Etherian configurations. I would not want to subject you to anything unusual or surprising without forewarning. For this reason, it would likely be best if I were to conduct some private research first, then we will discuss the possibility of mutual study.’

She leapt to her feet, using her hair to guide herself through a midair somersault. She began pacing her rooms again, punctuating her circuit with various acrobatics and occasionally humming to herself when her thoughts grew too loud. She fumbled for her recorder, talking fast as she said, “Intimacy Log, personal notes, number 12. This is so fascinating! Hordak has revealed that his genitals are not Etherian in nature—which is unsurprising—and that he has limited knowledge of their form or function.” Something unpleasant itched at the back of her mind, but she just started to pace faster, burying those thoughts.

“I cannot begin to speculate on either. I have every reason to believe Hordak is what we would classify as a mammal—the presence of nipples implies his species at one time nursed their young, and he is quite warm, suggesting he does not have to rely on external heat sources to maintain his body temperature—but he is still an alien. These mammalian traits may be evidence of convergent evolution, rather than a common ancestor, though I still believe the bipedal body type suggests that our species are not entirely unrelated. Nonetheless, none of that necessarily implies so-called ‘sexual compatibility’. Hordak already seems to know that penetrative sex is not a necessity for a sexual relationship, but I will also endeavor to reassure him that our genitals do not need to be ‘compatible’ for sex to be satisfying. I should also relay that I am not put off by his confession. If anything, I am excited by the opportunity for discovery!”

She performed another somersault, shaking out her hands as she landed. “This is so exciting!” she hissed under her breath. To the recorder, she added, “He’s said that he would like to experiment on his own so as to avoid surprising me, but I would be very interested in experimenting with him. Query—has Hordak decided to experiment solo primarily out of concern for my comfort or his own? If the former, then he may allow me to at least witness any experiments he performs on himself—though I would welcome a more hands on approach, if he is willing to wait. However, if he is uncomfortable including me because...”

The unpleasant thoughts managed to break through, and she pulled her mask down securely. “While it is possible Hordak wants to experiment on his own in order to sate his curiosity in private—which would be completely understandable—I believe it is more likely that he’s uncomfortable sharing this with me due to shame and prior conditioning from Horde Prime, a suspicion reinforced by his lack of education regarding his own body’s sexual organs.” She flexed her hands, hair coiling around her limbs. “If that is the case, then I am unsure how to proceed. Hordak’s health, safety, and comfort are of primary importance, and I’m worried I’m not well equipped to make sure he isn’t harmed by our experiments. I’ve...never been good with people.”

She shut off the recorder and cycled through her mask’s filters, trying to find a more soothing way of looking at the world. She settled on infrared, gazing at the smear of colors meant to represent variations in temperature. It was comfortably alien, and pleasing to place her hands on the metal wall and watch the colors change—like painting with her own body heat. She traced patterns on the wall and watched them fade as the transferred heat dissipated.

She took a breath and raised her mask when she felt settled enough to proceed, blinking as she readjusted to her surroundings. Clicking the recorder on, she said, “Hordak has consistently proven himself to be unlike anyone I’ve ever known. He seems to understand and respect my need for clear communication. Thus far, we have been able to prevent the kinds of misunderstandings I’ve had in the past simply by talking to each other. I have to assume I can keep him from coming to harm in the same fashion. When we next speak, I will—“ Her data pad signaled an incoming call. “Oh!” She clicked the recorder off, assuming that was him. “Hi, Hordak—wait. Sea Hawk?”

“Greetings, Princess!”

“Hi! Do you need something?”

“No. Not...not exactly.”

“Are you sure? People don’t usually call me unless they need something.”

“I don’t need anything, I just.” He winced. “I...may have...possibly...slightly overestimated my ability to convince my beloved to allow Hordak time off. And...vastly underestimated her vindictiveness.” His gaze grew watery and distant. “She is as magnificent and unforgiving as the sea.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay. At least you tried. I’ll just—“

Sea Hawk held up a hand, shushing her. “Entrapta. Are you in a secure location?”

She glanced around her bedroom. “I suppose so.”

“Good, good. Now, tell me...how far are you willing to go to prove your devotion?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Do you want to take Hordak to Plumeria?”

“Well, yes—“

“How far are you willing to go to get him there?”

“What?”

He moaned, as if in pain. Before she could ask if he was okay, he leaned close to the camera and said, “Listen to me. I have a plan to get both you and Hordak safely and happily to Plumeria. But it may possibly be slightly illegal.” Entrapta cocked her head. “And by ‘slightly’, I mean ‘extremely’. So, how far are you willing to go to prove your affections?”

She snorted. “Sea Hawk, don’t be ridiculous; at least three of my current experiments are technically illegal. Breaking a few laws won’t prove anything. With that said—what’s your plan?”

“Well—wait. Technically illegal?”

She gestured dismissively. “Mystacor isn’t really equipped to oversee scientific studies, but my experiments are technically overseen by their ethics committee. Which is guided by a woefully outdated moral system and staffed by technophobes. I stopped asking them to approve my more interesting studies ages ago.”

“Oh. Well. I’m going to assume that’s not at all nefarious—“

“I guess that would depend on your definition.”

“—and tell you my incredible, masterful plan! First—do you by any chance own any strappy high heels? A low cut dress, perhaps? Preferably in black.”

“What?”

“Never mind! We can continue without, but I feel that ignoring the aesthetic shows a lack of commitment.”

She stared at him. “What?”

A/N: As always, I’m extremely grateful for all the comments you guys leave. I read them all, often multiple times. I’m not good about replying, but I am always intensely grateful.Thank you so much. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. ^//^

#entrapta #hordak #entrapdak #sea hawk #scorpia #perfuma #intimacy log

76 notes · View notes

shireness-says · 4 years ago

Text

Swan’s Seven (4/?)

Summary: After two years behind bars, Emma’s out, and she’s got a plan in mind. Now to put together the perfect team… Let’s stage an art heist. (A CS Ocean’s 8 AU) ~3.9K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

~~~~~

A/N: Hello, all. It’s been a while on this one. 11 months, nearly to the day. Word to the wise: don’t sign up for six writing events all at once. The good news is there’s not a lot to refresh on, if you need the refresher! The gist: we’re robbing an art galley, and CS are trying to come back from starting out on the wrong foot.

Thanks, as always, to @snidgetsafan for beta-ing, and to YOU ALL for being so patient with me.

Tags: @optomisticgirl, @spartanguard, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @thisonesatellite, @thejollyroger-writer, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @searchingwardrobes, @winterbaby89, @scientificapricot, @superchocovian, @welllpthisishappening, @ohmightydevviepuu. Shoot me a message if you want to be added/taken off the list.

And a last note: last September, @spartanguard made some AMAZING fan art for me! Check it out and give her love, if you haven’t already!

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma makes her living off of first impressions and gut feelings. She’s a career con; those feelings can keep you alive and out of jail. Emma prides herself on rarely being wrong, with few (if spectacular - looking at you, Neal) exceptions.

Perhaps that’s why it rankles so much that she finds herself liking Killian Jones - it’s an admittance that her first impression, that he was nothing but a cocky bastard there to undermine her, was wrong. But underneath that seems to be a kind man, a polite and chivalrous one, a man who held the door for Elsa this morning and is currently with Belle unwrapping some kind of machine for replicating bronzes, as promised, the both of them displaying near-childlike glee at the new toy. It’s a side of him that Emma hadn’t expected to see, given those first few disastrous interactions.

(The side of him, so to speak, that Emma is treated to watching Killian bend over the box isn’t half bad either.)

A low whistle sounds from over Emma’s shoulder where she leans against the bar, almost as if she conjured it into existence. That’s not the case, of course; Ruby may be practicing her drink mixing before she starts at Robin’s tomorrow, plying them all with dangerously strong cocktails in the process, but as far as Emma’s aware, the saucy brunette isn’t any sort of mindreader.

“Damn if that’s not a pretty sight,” Ruby comments with a smirk as she measures out a hefty shot of vodka. “I love a man who can fill out a pair of jeans right.”

“I thought you were more interested in a woman who can fill out a pair of jeans right.” It’s not a criticism - just, apparently, a significant misread on Emma’s part. Another one.

Or not. “Baby, I’m not picky,” Ruby winks. “I like everyone. Just say the word if you’re ever interested.”

“Not really looking - especially not if it mixes business with pleasure - but I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby hums. “That mean you won’t ever make a move on Jones?”

“Why would I ever want to make a move on Jones?” Emma snorts.

Ruby just shrugs in response. “I don’t know. You two have got that charged tension going on. It’s a lot more fun to fuck it out than fight it out. You can’t deny he’s easy on the eyes, either - I’ve seen you looking.”

It’s a little too late to claim she was watching where Regina and Elsa hover over a laptop, monitoring the feed from Tink’s glasses from her first day at her new internship. That just leaves sarcasm to fall back on - always a solid choice. “Yeah, well, I’ve been in a women’s prison for two years. Can’t blame a red-blooded American woman for looking.”

“I’ll let you pretend that’s all it is. For now.” As if to accentuate, Ruby slides a bright aqua cocktail across the counter. “Enjoy your Blue Motherfucker.”

(Emma didn’t order the cocktail by any stretch of the imagination, but damn, does that burn feel good going down.)

Liquid courage doesn’t have anything to do with the way she saunters over to meet Killian where he hunches over an instruction manual. At the sound of her boots on the industrial concrete, his head snaps to attention, turning to meet her face to face.

“What can I do for you, Swan?” he asks with that smirk she’s learning is just an affectation. She thinks it might be armor, the same way she wears her red leather jacket; warn everyone away and you won’t get hurt.

“What are you up to tomorrow?”

“Depends. What are you about to propose?”

“How about you and I have a little date at an art gallery?”

———

“Not that I don’t appreciate your efforts, darling,” Killian murmurs in her ear, “but next time - I plan the date.”

“You seem awfully sure that there will be another date,” Emma snarks back. “Think highly of yourself, don’t you? And I’m not your darling.”

“What can I say, love - I can’t help that I’m devilishly handsome and charming. I’ve found it a winning combination.”

“Not your love, either.”

It’s not actually a date - just something intended to look like one. To anyone else at the gallery, they look like a pair of lovers, whispering sweet nothings to each other as they observe the masterpieces. All the while, Elsa observes exactly where the boundaries of each video camera lie from her computer back at the Poison Apple as Emma and Killian slink past corners with a faux-smitten giggle or tug on the lapel of a leather jacket.

“You are aware that we can hear you, right?” Regina drawls in the hidden earpiece they both wear.

“As if I could ever forget you, Madame Mills,” Killian replies smoothly. “I must say, I wouldn’t normally invite someone else along on an afternoon romantic excursion, but if the lovely Swan enjoys someone else listening in to… shall we say, private moments, then I am happy to —”

“So help me God, if you finish that sentence, I will remove your balls with my pocket knife,” Emma interrupts.

“Ah, so you like them quiet too.” At her sharp look - one she’s sure could cut through steel if she just tried hard enough - Killian bows his head in concession. “I’ll stop, if only for the sake of my anatomy.”

“Good decision.”

“And I’ll repeat, we can hear you,” Regina snaps into their earpieces.

(Emma will never admit that in the midst of the banter, she forgot.)

“Alright, Your Majesty, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Killian’s voice isn’t exactly soothing, but it’s something approaching conciliatory. Emma just hopes the cameras aren’t so good as to see the way he winks, completely contradicting his words.

“How’s it going, Elsa?” Emma asks under her breath, hoping to change the subject. Turning things back towards the reason she and Killian are here in the first place.

“Just fine, Emma,” Elsa’s calm voice trails through the ear piece. “The cameras up front will be… somewhat trickier to manipulate just due to sheer numbers, as you can imagine, but doable. I’ll work on dissecting their alarm system on the displayed paintings next. I would appreciate a closer pass around the doors to the staff-only areas, if you don’t mind terribly.”

“Not at all.”

Slowly, they make their way towards Elsa’s directed areas, keeping a leisurely pace and making sure to stop and briefly examine the works on the walls as they go, maintaining their facade as a somewhat distracted young couple. Jones pauses for a particularly long time to examine an impressionistic landscape Emma won’t pretend to recognize without the assistance of the side label she has no intention of looking at. By all appearances, he sees something in there that she doesn’t.

“Shopping, are we?” she leans up to whisper in his ear. It’s not flirting, not really; not real flirting anyways. It’s just all for show, and Emma? Well, she’s a born actress when it comes to a con.

“‘Fraid I don’t have the space on my walls, darling,” he smirks. “Ask me again in a few weeks, maybe I’ll have a bigger, better place. In the meantime, just admiring the colors.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an art enthusiast,” Emma comments as they finally saunter into the particular camera’s range, extracting the gallery guide from her back jeans pocket to give herself a reason to stop.

“I’m not. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it from an amateur standpoint.” He leans in close - for show, of course, all for show - to whisper back in her own ear. “Now let’s hurry up and finish so we can get out of here.”

Emma tosses him a sideways look. “This may seem like a date, but you’re not getting lucky, buddy.”

“And I’d never presume as such. Now, Elsa, what else do you need?”

“A round by the other staff doors, and then just a final pass by the front guard’s desk, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, lass.”

Killian may be an annoyance, but he really does make a good partner for this kind of thing. Two people on a date is a good reason to stop, to linger, especially in inappropriate places and at inappropriate times. And Jones? Jones is a master of suggestive smirks and flirtatious gazes whose salacious intimacy turns guards’ eyes away. By all appearances, they’re two people going through the motions of a date and just biding their time before some more enjoyable activities - at least on his side.

Emma is fine playing along; it’s easy enough to make the effort to linger in his space - all for appearances, of course - and create little affectionate touches. Hell, it’s even fun to slip her hand into the back pocket of Killian’s jeans and imprint to her memory the way he tries so hard not to jump in surprise at the gesture. But all the while, her mind is elsewhere - cataloging entrance and exit routes, taking note of pieces they’ll want to target, and remembering the faces of the guards to relay to Ruby later. This is work, not fun time; any enjoyment she might be finding is secondary to their goals.

“You can relax now, Swan,” Killian comments once they’ve finally made their way back outside and down the block, tapping at his earpiece to turn it off while Emma does the same. She’s had rather enough of Regina’s particular brand of sarcasm today.

“I’m always relaxed,” she all but snaps back. It rather undermines her own point, but whatever.

“Oh yes, that’s so clearly evidenced by the set of your shoulders. Tell me, are they supposed to sit quite that high and tense?”

Carefully, she makes sure to relax her posture. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Hmm. I’m sure you don’t.” Killian’s smile nearly sparkles, even in the middle of that mocking, not that she’d let it distract her. No, Emma is made of sterner stuff than that. With a quirk of an eyebrow, he slings an arm - the one with a hand, she notices - over those same shoulders. “C’mon, Swan, let’s go down to the bar and check on Ruby,” he declares. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Emma debates shrugging his arm off, coming back with another snappy quip, but ultimately decides against it; some things just aren’t worth the effort when it’s been a weird day and she’s tired. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have questions about this little side trip he’s proposing. “Why?”

“Why do I want to buy you a drink? Well, Swan, when a single man - like myself - meets a pretty young lady —”

“You know what I mean, smartass. Why do you want to go to the bar?”

“Ah, that. Well, you’re a bit of an open book Swan, and one who likes to hold all the cards. You’ve been carefully steering this whole data-gathering enterprise; I can tell you want to check in on how Ruby’s doing. I’d never call you a control freak, of course - that’d be terribly bad form - but, well…”

“I am not a control freak,” Emma protests.

“No?”

“No. Regina is a control freak. I am a… control enthusiast.”

“Kinky.”

“Do you just want me to use my pocket knife on you? Is that it?”

“That’s a little too kinky for me, actually, but if that changes at any point, I do promise, Swan, you’ll be the very first to know.”

With a glare, Emma reaches for her back pocket. There’s something so satisfying about the way Jones lifts both his hands in surrender at her renewed threat.

“Alright, Swan, I yield,” he laughs. “Might be best to add another drink onto what I owe you, call it an apology.”

“Make it something dark and strong and you’re on.”

Ruby is, by all appearances, more than fine behind the bar at the Den of Thieves - at least if the tip jar is any indicator. Her low cut blouse and that particular sway of her hips probably helps, but Ruby is naturally predisposed to this kind of thing, friendly and just a little bit flirty and a people person in her very core in a way Emma could never manage. The peppy brunette gives no indication of recognizing either Emma or Killian as she serves them, but their drinks, even for being simple, are prepared and delivered in record time, along with a basket of onion rings a few minutes later than Emma never even had to ask for.

“So,” Killian says once they’ve nearly finished their first drinks - rum for him, bourbon for her - and put in an order for a basket of wings, tucking his hands jauntily beneath his chin. “Tell me about yourself.”

“This isn’t a real date, Jones,” Emma quips back, draining her glass and signalling a Ruby for a refill. “Sorry to break it to you, but that touchy feely business back at the gallery? All for show.”

Killian clutches at his chest dramatically. “Break a man’s heart, why don’t you, Swan?”

Emma just shrugs, reaching for another onion ring. No real way to respond to that, and no real need, either.

“But really, Swan. Tell me something.”

“Well, I’m a Scorpio, I like long walks on the beach, and I’m just looking for that perfect partner in crime, you know?” Emma replies, purposefully pitching her voice high and giggly.

“Oh, now that was funny, love. Partner in crime - I see what you did there.”

“I couldn’t possibly begin to understand what you mean.” Batting her eyelashes really sells the effect, in Emma’s opinion.

“Picture of innocence, truly.”

“That’s me.” Emma quickly nods her thanks as one of Robin’s regular staff deposits their wings platter, picking up and twirling a saucy drumette between her fingers. “Why do you want to know.”

“I don’t know,” Killian shrugs, reaching for his own bite. “As long as we’re working together, I figured it’d be nice to get to know each other. We don’t have to, I suppose, but I thought it might be preferable to sitting in silence.”

“What, 20 Questions then?”

“Aye. I’ll even let you go first.”

“You’re the one who wanted to play.”

“Yes, but I’m also a gentleman. Ask your questions, Swan.”

“Fine.” The problem is, Emma doesn’t really know what she wants to ask. But the silence sits there, complete with an expectant look on Jones’ face, and she finally settles on a cop-out of a question. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Unexpected choice of question. I like it. Blue grey, like the ocean on a windy day. Pancakes, waffles, or French toast?”

“Oh, and you said I picked something unexpected. Pancakes. With chocolate chips and whipped cream. Fantasy heist?”

“Some old sailing ship. Really embrace the pirate vibe. Any hobbies?”

Emma looks at him skeptically. “Does art theft not count?”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. It’s a nice sound, not that she’s paying attention. “Back to you.”

“Dream trip?”

“Someplace ancient. Maybe Greece. Ask me again next week and I’ll tell you something different. How do you take your coffee?”

“This feels like some kind of sly come-on,” Emma comments wryly.

“And that feels like avoidance. Answer the question, Swan.”

“Fine. I take it in the form of hot chocolate. With cinnamon. If I need the caffeine I’ll shotgun a Red Bull or something instead.”

“Red Bull? That’s disgusting, Swan.”

“That’s effective. And it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“So ask it.”

She pauses just a moment before diving in. “How did you find your way into this business?” Even as Emma speaks the words, she knows this is what they’ve been leading up to - why he, a man who should be able to make a respectable living, has wound up here, trafficking stolen goods. It doesn’t make sense, even if he is excellent at his job.

“Ah.” Killian’s smile is visibly strained as his head bows to address the table instead of Emma’s face. “It’s not a particularly noble story, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Emma rushes to assure him. “I know when you suggested this game you didn’t think that —”

“It’s fine, Swan, really. I was never some knight in shining armor anyways.” He knocks back the rest of his drink quickly and signals for another. “I was actually in the Royal Navy for a stretch. Joined up with my brother.”

“That… actually makes sense. How’d a nice Navy boy turn to the life of crime?”

“Lost my brother, lost my hand. Was left with… pretty much nothing, really.” He jiggles the empty glass like a nervous habit, making the remaining ice cubes click softly together. “Found myself very at ends. And then, Will Scarlet sauntered back into my life, needed help.”

“Wait - Will Scarlet?” Emma should let him finish the story, but she knows that name. Fuck, she’s worked with that name before. “You know Will Scarlet?”

“Aye. Grew up together, actually, though we took very different paths after graduation. I take it you know him as well?”

“Pickpocket and thief? Kind of an asshole?”

“Oh, an absolute right bastard when he wants to be. Which he does, nine times out of ten. But he’s a loyal friend, and when I was drinking my benefits away at any pub I could find, not much caring whether I lived or died, he came to me and told me he needed help. Someone charming enough to help him get a good price on one of his larger pulls. And it just kind of… spiraled from there. Half of dealing in stolen goods is charm, you know. Charm enough to talk a price up or down, or convince a buyer that there’s absolutely no way a purchase can ever be traced back to them even when you know you can’t promise it. It’s a good fit for, if not the one I anticipated when I first joined up, fresh out of school. What about you, though?” he asks, quickly changing the subject. “How’d a lovely young lady like you embrace the life of crime?”

This isn’t really a story Emma likes to tell; Regina only weaseled it out of her after several years and quite a lot of tequila. But it seems like something she should tell Killian - tit for tat, and all that. Besides, he bared his soul to her, and all because she asked; it’s only right that she do the same.

“It was probably inevitable, one way or another,” she admits. “I, uh… I grew up alone. No parents, ward of the state, blah blah blah. A couple of prospective adoptions that didn’t happen when I was little and then a whole chain of temporary group homes. Until…”

“Until?” Killian gently prompts when Emma doesn’t pick back up immediately.

“Until I ran away from the umpteenth foster home or group home - I honestly don’t remember which - and David caught me trying to shoplift from a gas station.”

“Ah. The infamous brother.”

“The very one,” Emma agrees. “Who you obviously know now isn’t my real brother. But he was… he kind of took me under his wing, you know? In a way I didn’t expect at 15. His father was a big name in certain circles - less than legal circles. Robert Nolan. Infamous for faking his own death a couple times. And they took me in - David and Robert and his wife, Ruth. Turns out angels or saints or whatever the fuck you want to call them don’t necessarily live on the right side of the law. Robert taught me to pick my first lock, and, well, the rest was history, as the mysterious they always say.”

“That’s nice, in a larcenous kind of way.”

“It was. Is? Robert died, for real this time, a few years back. Ruth’s still around, though. Made sure to come visit me in prison, even when I told her to stay away. Moms, I guess.”

“And your brother? He didn’t…”

“Wind up dead or behind bars?” Emma completes. “No. Though he might as well have. David was the safe-cracker on the east coast for a while, but he retired.”

“No shit?”

“None to speak of. Met a schoolteacher, got married, moved out to Maine. They’ve got an honest-to-God farm, with sheep and a tractor and… other farm things that I never want to know about.”

“Different strokes, I suppose.”

“Or something. I’m just happy he’s happy. Maybe when this is over I’ll drop in for a visit. Try my hand at gathering eggs or something.”

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Killian smiles. “Especially if you haven’t seen each other in years.”

“Yeah, well, if he doesn’t, too bad. He’s the one who adopted me, not the other way ‘round,” she comments, raising her glass in a mock salute. She likes the way it makes him laugh - though that might just be the bourbon talking. “I think it’s time for… literally any other question, honestly. Tell me about the pirate fixation.”

Gratefully, Killian lets her change the subject. “Ah. Well, you see, when I was a young boy, my brother read me Peter Pan…”

———

It’s just a drink. Well, several drinks, and a basket of onion rings and a wing platter. But it somehow makes Killian a person, a person Emma could actually like, instead of some man with an attitude she didn’t want on her team at the beginning of all of this. She knows a thing or two about defense mechanisms and emotional armor anyways.

“Oh, please tell me that you and Jones just buried the proverbial hatchet and not the euphemistic one,” Regina groans after Killian hands Emma a coffee cup with a wink the next morning. A large hot chocolate. With a healthy sprinkle of cinnamon on the top.

Seems he might have listened, just a bit.

“Okay, first of all, the euphemistic hatchet is not a thing. Like, that’s not a phrase. And if it was, I don’t think Jones needs that kind of ego boost. We’d never hear the end of it,” Emma argues.

“None of this sounds like a denial.”

“Well, it is. Because - second of all - we did not have sex. Which is the phrase real adults use.”

“Calling yourself a real adult undermines the spirit of the thing.”

Emma flips her off. It’s earned.

“Fine. You didn’t have sex. So this is all just… you suddenly discovering a new and more forgiving side of yourself?”

“Well, you know, I figured he was less insufferable than you, Reg, and it was all sunshine and roses from there.”

“Fair enough.” Regina holds out her own coffee cup - doubtless filled with some disgusting double shot concoction she ordered herself from an uppity coffee shop - to tap against Emma’s. “I’m just glad to see you two getting along better. Though maybe we could hear it less.”

“I make no promises.”

Across the room, Killian meets her eyes with a smile from where he’s listening to something Tink is saying, and Emma can’t help but smile back. They would have managed this job even if Killian and her hadn’t come to this agreement (detente, he’d probably say), but she can’t deny this makes things easier.

Alright, Swan? he mouths from across the room, smiling even wider when she nods in return.

It’s just drinks, and it’s just coffee - but it’s a start.

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #Swan's Seven #my writing #Ocean's 8 AU #in which the banter is truly off the chart

52 notes · View notes

memoriesintherain · 4 years ago

Link

Chapters: 2/2

Word Count: 5219

Fandom: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Worick Arcangelo/Nicolas Brown

Characters: Worick Arcangelo, Nicolas Brown

Additional Tags: Young Love, First Crush, First Kiss, Sign Language, Deaf Character, Mention of Abuse and PTSD

Summary:

As a young Wallace Arcangelo and Nicolas Brown come to terms with their feelings and their place in the world, a passing storm offers them a few hours of torment and emotional growth.

The Thundering in our Hearts - memoriesintherain

The only thing that seemed to periodically disrupt the serenity that hung in the air of the Arcangelo mansion library as far off worlds unfolded in the hands of the two oppositely sitting preteens was the grandiose grandfather clock which had recently made its way into the heavily shelved room. The drumming of its ticks had been something the two boys needed a few days to adjust to. However, since its sudden arrival almost a week back, the faintly audible knocks of time passing had faded into the background like everything else had as the two lost themselves in their books. Not that one of the pair would have even noticed. Nicolas whose ears always held the sounds of the world around him just out of reach had not even noticed a new clock was placed into the room until he almost ran right into it.

Having finished his book, he wandered among the shelves looking for the next story that would feel at home in his hands. Taking a quick turn to the left after reaching the end of shelves and moving away from the windows toward what he remembered was a bare wall, he found himself barely even measuring half the size of the enormous time keeper made of wood. The grandfather clock towered over him just as he had known adults in his life to do, looming feet above his head and almost appearing to lean over him in all his short stature.

Nicolas blinked up at the tall mix of mechanics and wood. He had never seen one before. Clocks had been rare to come by before he arrived at the mansion, and he had never seen one as grand and well-crafted as the one that stood before him now. Standing impressed yet slightly confused as to how it worked, he added the clock to the list of things that he figured were only something that someone could find in this beautiful monster of a house. At almost every turn, there was something more magnificent than the last, and he never dared touch any of it in fear of what might become him if anything he even looked at simply wobbled out of place, meeting the floor with a spectacular crash. He had gotten punished for much less and was not willing to risk it. The risk of reaching out to something precious in the house that was far from being his was only worth it if it reached out to him first. He knew it wasn’t his place to act for himself in such a space. None of it was his. It never was, and it never would be.

That thought in his mind like an insomniac bat, fluttering from side to side, never letting him rest, always causing him to be on guard. If he were to be the cause of some ruckus, he would never forgive himself. “I must not trouble Master Wallace anymore than he already is.” Nicolas would tell himself in order to keep himself in his self defined place.

The black winged thought only seemed to steal moments of slumber when Nicolas was sat across from the blonde haired, fair skinned, elegantly dressed and well kept Wallace who he worried to ever bother. With the two of them being allowed to lounge comfortably in the library, surrounded by nothing but silence, faint light and each other, the two boys could breathe easier. Their concerns could be pushed to the back of their heads. Nicolas’s mental bat could take a rest, knowing that with a book in his hands and Wallace slightly smiling across from him at the book in his own, everything would be fine. Everything would be peaceful for the time being.

On this day more than the recent ones, it seemed that Nicolas’s mind was especially active and aware of his job to not disrupt or disturb anything. When he got to feeling this kind of mental consciousness, Nicolas knew something was stirring, but for whatever reason, he could not notice what it was. Having spent his whole day in the library, everything he had seen seemed to be in place, especially himself.

In the moment, he wanted to try and figure it all out before the looming feeling of unrest could make itself known, causing havoc. But he also knew he had been lost in bookshelves for quite a bit. He felt a tug in his legs, urging him back to the table, back to the other boy who he stole quick glimpses at in hopes to see the light in his eyes sparkle as he read. Something that could only be seen in the peaceful softness of the library, ‘their’ library. The sudden warmth of this thought was foreign to Nicolas. He liked it, but didn’t understand what it meant. And he definitely didn’t understand why his next thought turned that warmth into a slight pain: “Not that Master Wallace would notice I’ve even been gone.” He would often tell himself, being very aware that once reading a book, Wallace rarely let his eyes leave its pages. Regardless, he decided he should head back to his spot at the table across from the blue eyed avid reader.

Walking back through one of the shelved labyrinths of the library, he let himself pick up one of the few books he had already read, feeling the need for something familiar. When he appeared from behind the shelves, once more in front of the table at which Wallace sat, Nicolas witnessed something he did not see very often; Wallace’s head was turned away from his book.

Nicolas noticed that the boy across the table seemed more on edge than he had when he had left a few minutes prior. Wallace’s eyes were wide and glued to the wall on his right in the direction of the outer wall of the house which bore many large windows. Nicolas had just passed by a window himself upon leaving the giant clock, but he did not remember noticing anything out of the ordinary to cause such a change in Wallace’s normally very put together expression. He wanted to reach out and shake the boy in front of him from his fright-filled staring contest with the window, but as his hand slowly came up, the black haired boy let it fall back down to his side, wondering if Wallace would mind if he reached out to him first. If he had touched something precious that belonged to the house, what would happen? Nicolas would think to himself, letting his mental bat flap around in a frenzy.

For the time being, Nicolas decided he would just watch Wallace from afar, keeping track of his expression and reactions in case something happened that actually did require Nicolas to step in as the protective guard that he was. The short and scrappily dressed black haired boy sat back into his seat, which had gotten quite chilled from the departure of his body heat some time before. He placed the book on the table in front of him, but did not even bother to open it. Reading was not something he could focus on at the moment. Instead of the fictitious worlds which often occupied his head day in and day out within the library, the only world that crossed his mind was the one he was already in, the one in which Wallace sat in front of him, the one in which his body seemed to be urging him to get to the bottom of whatever was causing that pained look to creep up onto the other boy’s face.

For the next few minutes, the boys remained unmoved. Wallace continued to stare out the window as if he were trying to memorize every single blade of grass outside or contemplating the exact shade of blackened gray the creeping clouds were, and Nicolas continued to watch every little movement the other made. As ticks from the clock just around the corner sounded one after another, Nicolas saw something gaining more of a hold of Wallace. His eyes were still glued to the window across the way, and they were still wide like before, but now the rest of his body seemed to be frozen. If Nicolas could have guessed it seemed almost as if some poison had paralysized the blonde boy entirely. The only slight movement was the quickened rising of Wallace’s chest.

At the beginning, Nicolas felt consoled by the sight of his master breathing, but with the space between his breaths shortening, Nicolas soon realized he should not feel calmed by that sight at all. Something had to be wrong. But just what was it? Was it something he could fix? Something he could beat for Wallace, something he could hide Wallace from? His mind demanded an answer for how he could help. And he was just about to finally speak up, to finally reach out, when Wallace gave him another surprise.

The sharply dressed, Wallace, who only ever acted as if he were in a shakespearean play, moving slowly and elegantly across a stage with thousands of viewers and critics watching, being careful not to take a step out of place in fear of repercussions that could come in the form of booming voices and painful clashes of skin against skin, shot up from his chair in a panic. His eyes had finally left the window only to switch frantically over to the door on the opposite wall. Wallace’s movements from there on out were all done in an immense rush, moving at a speed Nicolas had never seen the other boy even attempt before, not even when they had stolen a few moments of enjoyment in a game of tag out in the yard.

As the boy clad in pin striped dress pants and dark, perfectly polished dress shoes raced across the wooden floor of the library, he left the normally quiet and peaceful room in a boisterous wake. His chair had stumbled on to its side after he had pushed himself out of it, causing the suit jacket he had placed onto its back and not picked up upon his departure to skid across the floor. He had not even bothered to close the book he was reading. It still laid, abruptly abandoned, opened to the last word that Wallace had seen before the dark clouds that had long been brewing outside had stolen his attention. Wallace’s movements continued to speed up as he threw the door to the hallway open and almost flung himself out into the new space.

Finding himself alone in the library after watching the other boy rush himself throughout the room, Nicolas was left with only more concerned confusion than he had minutes before.

His confusion did not keep him from reacting, however. As Wallace’s guard and a trained mercenary, Nicolas was used to staying by the young master’s side at all times in addition to having quick reflexes in times of overwhelming tension or confusing whirlwinds. Therefore, not seconds after Wallace stormed his way out of the library, Nicolas was quick on his heels to follow.

As the smaller ragged looking jet black haired boy jumped through the doorframe of the book-shelved safe haven, he could barely catch the back tip of Wallace’s shoe as the blonde made a sharp turn down a hallway. Without thinking, Nicolas raced after him, rushing with only one thought in mind. “I must reach him. I must . . .”

Turning the corner himself, he realized what he should have long before now: where Wallace was heading. With every step, Nicolas became more sure; Wallace was racing against time and the light pounding of rain that had begun not long after the blonde boy started off on his sprint. He was racing to the only other place in the house where he could feel safe, his room.

Just as he threw the library door open moments before, Wallace took a firm yet rushed grip on the doorknob to his bedroom and swung it open without a second to rest. And it didn’t even take him an additional breath to slam it right behind him just as quickly as it had been opened.

The loud bang of the door shutting behind him was the last thud Wallace heard before he found himself surrounded by the silence of his room. He hadn’t even bothered to flick on the lights before continuing his seemingly never ending sprint into his bed. As his sporadic frenzy continued, he jumped on to his bed and shoved himself under the covers, not forgetting to speedily tuck the covers all around his curled up body.

If the bedroom was dark before, it seemed even darker now to Wallace who tried to soothe himself in a tight bundle of blankets. His fists were wrapped tightly in the sheets. If he could see them, his knuckles would probably have turned white from all the strength that he was putting into his grasp on the cloth all around him. And even if he could see in the heavy darkness of both the unlit room and the thick, insulated blankets, his closed eyelids would have kept him from seeing it all. His eyes had long since been squeezed shut, closing out any last sight that could send him into any further unrest.

If he were to be honest with himself, he found the darkness and the silence oddly calming. Others might have found it oddly deafening and even more unsettling, but for Wallace, separating himself from everything: people, the house, and even sight and sound, was often the only thing that soothed his nerves. The massive estate which he always felt oddly trapped in despite always having enough space at least physically to act how he pleased was always quite bright and rowdy, creating the illusion of happiness, security, and freedom. Wallace had to laugh because he never felt that way about his life in the mansion. Even in the most serene and elegant of hallways, whispers of the maid staff could be heard, turning rumors into wildfire, hinting at the truth of the grandiose Arcangelo house that the so called perceived happiness, security, and freedom were never actually offered to the little blonde boy who had lived there his whole life. The little bastard child of the head of the estate, the little Wallace Arcangelo was only ever met with loud booming demands and criticism, painful slaps and lasting bruises. The house was never a place to call his own. It was never his home. The only places which could be near the idea of a warm and secure home was his room, the library, and if he really wanted to be honest with himself, wherever he could be with Nicolas.

His daily events of locking himself in the library all day and then locking himself in his room at night was all he could do to distance himself from the painful and firey whispers that hung and wafted throughout the whole house, filling up every hallway and room with rumor-like smoke, almost choking the young boy. He curled himself up into a tighter ball, his knees almost digging into his skin under his chin, trying to make himself as small as possible, hoping to hide from what he knew grew closer and closer every second.

And just then as if the outside world was listening intently to all his fears as they pooled within his head, a quick and bold bolt of lightning lit the entire darkened and stormy sky. It caught the attention of Nicolas who had stood facing the very door that Wallace had slammed shut minutes before. He had been contemplating what to do next, yearning to throw open the door just as Wallace had before him and to ask the other boy what it was that was upsetting him, what it was that Nicolas could do to protect him. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn the knob. He had reached his hand out and held it tightly multiple times since he had seen Wallace disappear behind it, but in all the passing seconds, he couldn’t bring himself to open it. He didn’t want to over step. It wasn’t his house. It wasn’t his place. How could he . . .

And that’s when the lightning had struck. His eyes which had been so focused on the door quickly shifted to look out the window that stood at the end of the hallway he had just trekked down. A bright yellow-white root system of electricity had covered the sky, striking the ground somewhere off in the distance. Its sudden appearance and departure only caused the outside world to look so immensely dark, stealing away any of the light it brought with it. The dark storm clouds filled the whole sky, casting every tree, road, and building into an immense shadow as rain pelted everything the darkness touched. It was an unnerving sight that sent a shiver down Nicolas’s spine.

The next attention stealing element was a loud clap of thunder which echoed endlessly in Wallace’s ears, reminding him of haunting memories of his father who had downed a whole bottle of wine, slurring his words that would only get louder with each blow he landed across Wallace’s face and body. In those moments Wallace could only curl up, trying to protect himself while pleading for the assault to end, knowing that no matter what he did to shield himself or beg for a cease fire of the hits, it wouldn’t come. In those moments he was powerless, and the memories burned holes through his being with every loud crash of anything. Thunder, however, had to by far be the worst. It reminded him too much of the sound of fists or even broken bottles against his skull. He hated it. The sound, the feeling, it tormented him, but all he could do even now was to hold himself close, protecting himself and begging for an end to the assault that was so clearly out of his hands.

“When will it end?” Wallace faintly whispered through breathy and shaky gasps as well as tears that welled up in his eyes and slowly streamed down his cheeks. “When will it all end?”

As the thunder which rang in Wallace’s ears shook the entire estate, Nicolas was filled with new urgency to get to Wallace’s side. He couldn’t lie to himself and say that he understood his master’s actions or how it all related to the storm roaring beyond the mansion walls, but there was just an enormous wave of desire that washed over him to be there for the other boy whose smiles always seemed so sweet. It was like in the library earlier when his feet urged him to return to Wallace’s side except now it was only more prominent. He was urging himself to move forward.

Throwing his sense of guilt that told him he shouldn’t enter a room that wasn’t his without being asked for out the window to be taken away by the storm, Nicolas finally took hold of the doorknob and turned it open. Every bone in his body told him to rush to the other boy’s side, but there was a faint voice in his head which pushed through that blaring urge, telling him to approach with caution. As someone who was more simple minded, Nicolas often folded under temptation, but for this moment, Nicolas followed the voice that told him to be calm.

He lightly closed the door behind him, hoping that it didn’t make a loud noise. He wouldn’t be able to hear it even if it did, but he knew if he did anything it had to be filled with ease and caution. He would get nowhere if his actions mirrored the chaos of the storm outside.

Nicolas took a step closer toward the faint outline of a bed. “Master Wallace?” He asked in his best attempt at a soft and comforting voice, hoping his tonal raspiness was somewhere close to being filled with concern.

He continued his slow approach until he stood just before the side of the bed. He had been inside the room before, but never on his own volition. Being there now, he felt like he was invading Wallace’s privacy. “This is wrong” the mental bat which had been drowned out during this fiasco sneered in his head. “Who are you to be here? Who are you to be by his side?” The guilt he had so recently disregarded was growing once more in his stomach. “How could someone like you even protect him? How dare you try to reach out to this precious thin-” Nicolas tried his best to push it down. He tried to let his desire to help Wallace over power it.

He soon felt his body act without him as he guilt ate away at his conscience. Now kneeling before Wallace’s bed, his eyes began to make out a shape under the covers. Suspecting it was Wallace, Nicolas slowly reached out a hand. He had come this far, if he were to give up, to give in to his guilt of acting out of place, there would be no purpose in taking the risk in the first place.

He tapped lightly on the edge of the bed to alert Wallace that he was there before reaching any farther. “Wallace?” He once again tried to whisper, hoping he wasn’t too loud.

“Sorry for entering.” He began, first struggling to put together sentences as clearly and properly as he could, and then noticing how his heart began to pick up pace. He began to wonder if it was because he was beginning to fear the repercussion of his actions. Or maybe it was caused by something else. Regardless, he continued his attempt to reach out to the other boy, sliding his hand closer to the blanketed mass. “I just wanted to help. If you’re okay, I can leav-”

A hand had popped out of the blanket covered mound and grabbed Nicolas’s outstretched arm. Its hold on Nicolas’s wrist was tight yet shaky. It exuded a strong sense of desperation, almost shouting for help through its grip that even the ever silent ears of Nicolas could pick up. The black haired boy’s heart tightened. He brought his other hand up to cover the shaking hand of Wallace, hoping that such a movement would offer peace of mind. The blanket covered boy was so in search of solace that as soon as the second hand touched the top of his, he latched on to it, quickly letting go of Nicolas’s wrist in favor of his hand. Wallace who was still under the covers wasted no time to squeeze the new hand in his grasp, putting so much strength into it that Nicolas thought the boy in front of him might rip it off his arm.

For a second, Nicolas stared in silence as Wallace held on to him so desperately. Through the tight grip on his hand, Nicolas was now clearly aware of the pain Wallace was experiencing. His hand began to ache under the pressure of the other boy’s grasp, but Nicolas dared not recoil. Instead he allowed himself to wrap his hand around Wallace’s, applying a pressure of his own back onto it, but instead of a pressure wrapped in desperation, Nicolas tried to convey soft and warm comfort, lightly wrapping his fingers onto the back of the feverishly shaking hand of the blonde boy. He gave the hand a light squeeze as if to say “I’m here”.

Communication was tough for the two boys in a moment like this. Neither could see for the life of them as the storm thundered on just out the window. Nicolas could struggle to talk, but he wouldn’t ever be able to hear or know if Wallace responded. Not that Wallace could easily talk either in a time like this. All his words were caught in his throat as he tried to hold himself from crying out like a newborn baby. The two were thus left in a palpable silence. One that was rather dreary yes, being surrounded by complete darkness except for moments of lightning and thunder, but also one that offered a sense of vulnerability, connection, and openness. Even without words, the two boys understood each other and shared their emotions in this moment. Wallace’s hand called out, crying “I need you” to which Nicolas’s responded “No worries, you have me”.

They stayed like that, Wallace completely covered head to toe except for one arm which snaked out to grab a hold of Nicolas, and Nicolas kneeling before the bed, holding on to Wallace as if in fear that if he let go, he’d lose the other boy forever. They stayed like that, in complete silence, holding each other as the storm continued its raid on the land, throwing down bullets of rain onto the ground, slashing bolts of lightning through the sky, and yelling down booms of thunder into the atmosphere.

Time was no longer kept in mind. The ticks of the grandfather clock had long since been left behind and drowned out. For however long it had been, it was just Wallace and Nicolas, alone, yet together. It was a slightly painful recognition of being left by the world, but it also had a tinge of warmth knowing that comfort would never be too far with the other person within an arm’s reach.

As the storm began to die down, Wallace felt Nicolas’s comforting hold on his hand loosen. With the thudding of the storm having almost entirely died down, Wallace poked his head slightly out from his covers. In the black darkness of his room, he could vaguely make out the shape of the other boy. His uncontrollable hair flopped onto the edge of the bed as the owner’s head rested on top of his free arm, hinting at how the boy might have drifted off to sleep.

Wallace blinked at the sight. Having the other boy so close, in his room, on his bed, holding his hand, it had taken him until now to realize how it all made him feel. He had been so overwhelmed by the storm and his memories of the past that the present situation of Nicolas being with him hadn’t even registered in his mind, but now with the outside world quieting down and the haunting memories dissipating once more, Wallace was left to face a sleeping Nicolas with a more clear head and slowly growing emotions.

Feeling an odd sense of security noticing that Nicolas was asleep, Wallace scooched himself closer to the sleeping boy. He lifted his hand which held on to Nicolas’s, and slowly brought the back of the other boy’s hand to his face, pressing it lightly to his cheek. The skin felt a little rough and yet it calmed Wallace immensely and not just because of its cool touch against Wallace’s growingly warm and rosy cheeks.

Nicolas had been there. He had followed him without a word of explanation or even an idea what was going on. He followed him. The other boy could have easily stayed in the library reading his book, leaving Wallace to lose himself in his horrors and sadness all by himself, but he hadn’t. He had come, and come without Wallace even asking him to. The blonde boy felt a tug at his heart and bit his lip to hold back a couple of tears which wanted to seep out in deeply moved appreciation.

The young master had been alone for so long. He had come across a father who despised him, a mother and brother who pretended he didn’t exist, and servants who gossiped about his every move. He had never felt what it was like to have someone, to have anything, and yet in that moment, in his own hand he held on to Nicolas, and Nicolas held on to him.

He smiled, and laughed to himself, wondering how it ever happened that the most oddball of all the people he ever met would be the only person to ever show him this type of kindness, this type of care and sincerity. This goofy preteen who could barely read or talk, this raggedy haired boy who struggled to understand social cues or emotions, this person was the one who held onto him in his most trying moments. He was the only person who ever tried to reach out to him. Him. Nicolas. “Who would have guessed it?” Wallace asked himself, shaking his head.

He pressed Nicolas’s hand more onto his cheek. Feeling his heartbeat rise once more, faintly mirroring the thundering of the storm that had just passed outside but this time it was resonating in his chest and all throughout his body. He couldn’t help but smile and whisper into Nicolas’s wrist that was so close to his lips, “Thank you, Nicolas . . . for being here . . . when no one else would”.

The thundering in his heart continued to grow as he let himself plant a light kiss on the skin he had just openly shared his thoughts with.

He let out a slow breath, trying to release some of the tension that had pooled inside of him.”It hurts,” He thought as the pounding continued. “It hurts.” Wallace repeated aloud, but keeping to himself what the ‘it’ meant. The blonde moved once more. This time allowing his other hand to reach out towards Nicolas’s hair, running his fingers through its jet black strands which were barely even visible in darkness of the night.

He laid himself back down, but now much closer to Nicolas’s slouched position against the edge of the bed. The closeness was what he wanted. He would allow himself to be this close for now. It would be alright for just this moment because the overwhelming emotions hurt as they rushed through every inch of his body, and he needed Nicolas there to help despite being the cause of the emotions himself. Unlike all the other pain that Wallace had experienced in his life, the screams, the fists, the hatred, he was willing to carry this pain, to carry this burden of vulnerable emotions. Wallace was willing to continue to carry the weight of his feelings for Nicolas if it meant they could stay like this, together, relying on each other, protecting each other, needing each other. Wallace needed this type of relationship. He needed this type of care. He needed this type of emotion, this feeling not too far off from love. He needed Nicolas.

And even if he never dared to say it aloud, no matter if Nicolas were asleep or if Nicolas couldn’t even hear the words for himself through his deaf ears, Wallace knew what it all meant and he would keep it to himself. It would be safer that way, he would later convince himself, but for now the burden of compassion, the pain of the storm like thundering of his heart as he held Nicolas’s hand and felt the boy’s sleep filled breath on his arm, he would let it shine and revel in its light amid the vast darkness. It was gentle. It was warm. It was nice.

#gangsta #gangsta.#fanfic #nicolas brown #worick arcangelo

14 notes · View notes