#aside from the whole thing where he wants me so bad he's seething cause he knows he ain't got a fucking chance

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

😇

[weepingvoidpenguin]

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU. 

Word Count: 8.3k

   “We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing. 

   You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

   How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

   You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

   “And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

   You blinked, “Wait, what?” 

   Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

   “Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take. 

   “Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

   “Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way. 

   “The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

   “Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

   “No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment. 

   “Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

   “But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

   “All the easier,” 

~

   The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

   “How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

   “She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

   “Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

   “She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

   You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

   “I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

   Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear. 

   “The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

   You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

   An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

   Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same. 

   “And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

   “Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

   You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

   “You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

   “Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

   “This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

   “Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

   “The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

   You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

   “Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

   You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up. 

   “Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

   “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

   There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

   “Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

   You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

   “Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

   Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,” 

  “Much better,” Wanda agreed.

   You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

   “We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,” 

   “You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck. 

   They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

   “You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

   “More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

   “So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

   “That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

   You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now. 

   You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

   “Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

   “Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

   “Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way. 

   “Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

   “I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

   “Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

   “Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

   “All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

   You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife. 

   On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

   You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

   Fuck.

   “That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

   “And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

   There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

   “Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

   You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

   “What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

   You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

   “Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

   You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms. 

   “You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,” 

   You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

   A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

   “If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,” 

   You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

   He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

   “I’m not hiding myself,”

   “But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

   “And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

   The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

   “Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

   You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

   “Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with. 

   You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

   You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

   “So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

   You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

   “Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

   Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

   “Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

   “What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

   You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

   Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

   “I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

   You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each. 

   “Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

   “If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

   “Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them. 

   Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

   “What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

   Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man. 

   “It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

   “Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

   “Brat?” You snarled.

   Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it. 

   “Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

   You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in. 

   You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

   “Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

   “Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway. 

   “Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

   “What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

   “I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue. 

   “She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

   Water.

   You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

   “Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

   Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

   Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could. 

   Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

   You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

   “Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

   You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

   Why? Steve asked again.

   Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

   You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise. 

   Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

   “Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

   Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

   “I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

   “I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

   You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

   “You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

   A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

   You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

   Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

   You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him. 

   “What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

   You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

   “And what were you expecting?” 

   Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

   “Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

   You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

   “What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

   He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

   You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

   He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

   “And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

   “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

   You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

   He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

   “But are you?” 

   “Am I what?” 

   “Enjoying yourself?” 

   Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

   Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

   “Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

   “Thank you,”

   You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

   All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

   “Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

   The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

   “I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

   “Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

   She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound. 

   Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

   You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

   You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

   “She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

   You nodded fervently, “Yup!” 

   Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

   Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

   “Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,” 

   You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

   He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

   Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

   Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

   Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

   Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

   “I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

   “Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

   Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

   “What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

   “You’ve had enough for tonight,”

   “It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

   Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

   “Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

   “No,” he responded curtly. 

   “Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

   “No,”

   Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

   Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

   “’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

   You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

   Oh shit. Your job. The job.

   If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

   You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

   “How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

   Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

   “Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

   Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

   “You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

   “Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

   Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

   You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

   “Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

   “They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

   You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out. 

   You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

   “Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

   “There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

   You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

   You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

   “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

   Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

   We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

   Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

   Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor. 

   “Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

   “I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

   Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t. 

   “How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

   “I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

   “Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

   Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

   “You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

   A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

   “You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

   Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

   We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

   “So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?” 

   You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

   “You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

   The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

   “We?” 

   He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

   The shuffling started again.

   Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

   “Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

   “Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

   “I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

   Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

   The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

   “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

   You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire. 

   Fight. Move. 

   You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

   “Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

   “Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

   Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

   “Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

   Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

   Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

   Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch. 

   “Wha-”

   “Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

   Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

   “Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

   “We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

   “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” 

   Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to. 

   Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

   After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

   You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

   “Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

   “That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

   You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

   He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

   “You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

   “Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

   You nodded slowly, “I am,”

   Then a few more seconds.

   Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

   “Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

   “More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

   You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,” 

   He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

   You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

   Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

   You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

   “You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

   You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

   “Not to my face,”

   “Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours. 

   “It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

   “I see your hands are exposed,”

   He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

   You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

   Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

   You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

   “Stunning,” 

   “Smart?”

   “Genius,”

   “Good at her job?”

   “Amongst the best,”

   “Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

   Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

[clockworklozenges]

So, a good five or so years back, I played in one of the best worst DnD games I have ever been in. The DM had bought the Libris Mortis book, which, if you were unaware, was a 3.5 splatbook adding in a lot of undead stuff, including some monsters and undead player races and stuff. Wanting to try it out, me and my gaming group decided to play things from it, our then DM deciding to run a completely homebrewed session. This proved to be a...

Terrible Idea™

(for the uninitiated, never homebrew something you do not fully understand unless it's just cosmetic. If you want to make all elves worship the god of garlic bread, Ultimo-Metatron-Omega, go ahead, but unless you know how the game works, don't make mechanical changes). So we all picked stuff from the books-one player played a skeleton Sorcerer who in life was a tribal shaman, but an attempt at healing went wrong, turning him undead as his life energy was replaced with negative energy, explaining why most of his spells were necromancy and suchlike.

Another player played Krug, an antipaladin in very spiky full plate. He was a zombie made by a necromancer of a paladin who was fighting him, but his allies killed his would-be master before he could assert control, and not wanting to just off him, his allies just...yeeted his body into a portal and hoped it'd re-kill him. It did not kill him hard enough. It did, however, explain his stats which...oof. He had already got debuffs to some stats due to being a zombie, and rolled abysmally. Fortunately for the player, he played mostly to socialise, so didn't much care.

I played... Count Nox Feratu, the Campire. As in, a vampire with a very camp German accent, which I did not break for the whole time I was playing him. To the point where "ach, nein, I haf bin heet! Heal me, meine freunde!" was par for the course. My overly camp vamp was a wizard, but due to level adjustment was a bit of a shoddy one. For backstory, he'd been ousted from his clan for ineptitude, and had sworn revenge. I was going for a swordmage build but never got there. All his spells were utility or just necromancy spells.

Our last player played...sigh...Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of Nerull, God of murder and undeath. He was one of the clerics from the book's murder Domain, meaning that he got buffs to damage. He was a vicious arse both in character and out of it, and was so dripping with edge compared to the paladin with the same IQ as a horse after its trip to the glue factory, the shaman who thought killing fixed people and the Campire that if you gave him a pat on the back you'd have finely diced your hand into a red mist. Not going too outlandish with his backstory of wanting to dominate the world as his undead thralls, Damien F***ing Bloodmoon had only taken spells which either charmed live people, dealt negative energy damage or messed with ability drain and suchlike, which he used with aplomb on townsfolk on our way to our objective. He was also, importantly, playing an elf of some sort, I forget which kind. Meaning that of the party, only one was alive.

So, just as an aside, for those of you that haven't played 3.5e DnD or have only played 5e, in Libris Mortis, undeath was gone over in detail, and had a litany of pros and cons. For one thing, undead had only the HP they had-folks like Damien F***ing Bloodmoon could be 'dying', and had some time to be stabilised before meeting the reckoning of Papa John and dying proper. Undead did not, it was just how much you had and if you ran out, poof, you're dust, bones and fertiliser again. You were also harmed by positive energy, so healing spells hurt you, as did potions of healing. However, undead were kind of hardy - poison immunity, some had resistance to non-magical melee damage, stuff that drained your ability scores and levels didn't work on them, some crits wouldn't do extra damage, and the best part- negative energy healed undead. Meaning all the spells our party had which damaged others like the living Damien Bloodmoon were curative ones for us. Keep this in mind.

So, we began our quest, learning of a necromancer a nearby town was plagued by. After using our skills (to whit: Damien Bloodmoon charming and drawing the life force out of random villagers and the only potion seller in the town whilst we went shopping. Krug got a snazzy hat, which we put on top of his helmet, and we chatted to townsfolk as I looked alive enough to pass as human and the shaman had a fake beard and toupee that people were too awkward to point out was fake so went along with it) we learn that the necromancer has a base of operations in the cemetery. "Oh ja, zo original, dahlink. Ve vill need to educate zis guy on vhat is chic and vhat is just shabby!"

So we head there and the nightmare begins. Damien Leads the charge, using all of his knowledge to deduce that the shambling horde moving towards us were stronger-than-your-average-bear undead, and he was right. These were powerful armoured zombie mages of some sort, casting ability draining spells, negative energy ray spells and even having auras of negative energy that dealt damage on a failed Fortitude save. Even their punch and quarterstaves did negative energy damage as well as the usual bludgeoning or unarmed. However...only one of us was really in danger and the DM's face fell when the squishy casters walked up and began shanking their super-special homebrew zombie wizards, being healed by the damage of their attacks as we cut them down.

Like I said, one of the benefits of undeath is that negative energy actually heals you. So the strikes of the magic staves and punches that hit us did some basic damage. Which was then immediately healed by the negative energy their weapon strikes and spells were doing.

However, you'll recall that Damien Bloodmoon was an elf. And not dead. Being a Cleric of a death god doesn't mean that you have the abilities of an undead. That meant that even with the DM being merciful, by the end of the first fight he was covered in blood, mud and withered away to just above half his original strength and constitution. More were patrolling, so we had to run. But that posed a problem.

Remember Krug had heavy armour? And recall his awful stats? He in fact, hadn't got enough strength to wear the armour he'd been given for backstory. He didn't, according to the DM, have enough to remove his own armour. And we attempted to, but also failed our checks according to the DM. And Damien Bloodmoon refused to help, simply blaming Krug and his player. Krug's player thought it was hilarious, and Krug only had enough Intelligence and Wisdom to say his own name, so saw no problem. And Krug, Nox Feratu and Shaman realised that there really...wasn't a problem.

For us, at least.

We slogged through three combats dragging Krug and wading through the mud with him. His speed was so slow that for every step he took, we took about ten. The DM was confused and infuriated that his encounters weren't working, but refused to change them. So we had fun role-playing. Or at least three of us did.

Damien Bloodmoon refused to roleplay, and none of his ranged spells could affect the zombie mages. When he went into melee, he came out wounded as all hell. He went down twice, and it was only the healing supplies of the shaman that saved him.

All the while, he was... Let's say not best pleased. Damien Bloodmoon was getting increasingly wounded, exasperated and longing for the sweet embrace of death as reprieve from the humiliation. His player was getting increasingly redder and rage-filled as time passed. Each fight ended with our characters stronger than ever and his a bloody pulp on the floor, with poor in-character knowledge (and terrible rolls) preventing him from realising why.

Eventually, we reached the final boss, pausing only to paint Krug's armour in contact poison just in case, and to find a stick to help the now-partially-crippled Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of death and murder, walk after being beaten up by angry zombie wizards for hours. And it had, indeed, been hours. Among us, only Damien had a bonus to strength, and we had two swords, a mace and a staff between the four of us. Meaning it was re-death by a thousand cuts for the enemy and a slog and a half for us.

We reach the necromancer and, having taken so long due to dragging the oblivious Krug with us, his big ritual is complete- he raises a fist-sized black onyx egg aloft, crackles with arcane power and causes the bones around him to coalesce into one massive creature - an undead, giant-sized rust monster, radiating an Aura of pure negative energy. Krug opened his arms wide, eager for the metal-eating monster cockroach to free him from his poison-painted metal prison. It ignores him as he's still very far away. Me and the others have our weapons and armour devoured.

Our DM was very much a stickler for note-taking. So because Damien Bloodmoon hadn't written 'clothes' on his sheet, his armour being eaten by the monster left him naked and afraid.

It became clear that the DM had done another f***y-wucky. See, the Aura of negative energy healed me and the Sorcerer by more than its other attacks did. So whilst Damien Bloodmoon was naked, soaked in mud and bleeding to death almost crushed to a pulp in the fetal position, rocking backwards and forwards as his player seethed with hatred, the Shaman and the Campire set about beating the thing to death with our bear hands and a stick.

The session ended once we killed the necromancer, or rather when Krug walked up to him, closed his arms and just crushed the noodle-armed bad guy to death with the weight of his ridiculous armour and poisoned him with its paintwork.

We never revisited the game afterwards. We were told later on that the DM wanted us to use the non-undead races. But at no point had he said as much, even when we asked him about our characters and the restrictions on them. We also learned a valuable lesson. DM for the players who are there, not the ones who you have an idealised mental image of. Tailor your game, otherwise you'll get a sitcom featuring a camp nosferatu, a shaman with no healing, a paladin who could barely move and a Cleric of murder who was ironically the only one at risk of actually dying.

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited pt. 2

azriel (acotar) x reader

*this is part 2! Sorry for the wait guys! I really struggled with this and low-key I don’t like it but I hope y'all do! I wanna write the scenes after this but idk how im gonna make it work lol. anyway, enjoy!

word count: 3193

---------------------------------

What you hadn’t realized was that Azriel left a few minutes later, walking to your apartment to make sure you had gotten home safe.

All of a sudden he heard whimpers and labored breathing coming from the alley.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you laying on the ground and bleeding out. He felt a tug in his chest. A click. Panic instilled in him as he gently but swiftly picked you up and flew you to Madja.

“Hang on y/n, you’re so strong” he whispered

In those moments, he feared for you. Fear that was so strong. Something he had never felt before.

He rushed into the house laying you on the bed gently before he was shoved out by the Madja so she could try to save you.

Azriel alerted the others and then collapsed into a chair, sitting in silence. A tear slipped out of his eye at the thought he may have been too late to save you.

You. His mate.

Why, of all the times did the bond have to click while you were on the brink of death. In a situation where you may not make it out alive. It wasn’t fair.

He wondered if you had known. Could that be the reason why you had been distancing yourself from him? Because you didn’t expect or want him to be your mate? But if you had known you would’ve said something, right? You wouldn’t keep it a secret? So many thoughts kept racing through his head.

Could it have been because of Elain? He knew the inner circle wasn’t stupid, they all saw him drifting more and more to Elain. Could that have been why you had distanced yourself? He would be lying if he said he didn’t like Elain, but he would also be lying if he said he didn’t like you.

Your stubbornness. Your generosity. Your sense of adventure. The way you could get lost in the things you did.

Suddenly the door swung open and the others came into the room, worry written all over their faces.

Azriel could tell that Cassian and Mor had been crying on the way there.

“How bad is it?” Mor shook as she spoke. You could see the pain in her eyes. The worry she had for someone who was basically her sister.

Azriel’s expression was unreadable and he didn’t respond.

“Do you think she will make it?” Feyre asked, grief evident in her posture. “I- I don’t know” Azriel answered, “It was pretty bad,” he said quietly.

Just as he answered, Madja appeared from the other room. “She’s in rough shape, I don’t know if she’s gonna make it through the night. She lost a lot of blood.”

The room grew eerily quiet

“She’s stable for now, but I will stay here and notify you if any changes occur.”

---------------------------------

Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain went back to the townhouse to try and get as much rest as they could. Mor, Cassian, and Azriel decided to stay in your room with you.

Tears started slipping from Cassian’s eyes once he saw your fraile body lying in bed, barely hanging on.

“Oh mother” Mor sobbed out, a hand slipping over her mouth. She went over to the bed you were on, gently sitting on it and grabbing to hold your hand. She leaned against the headboard and watched as your chest heaved.

The trio sat in silence for some time, watching your every move, your breathes, whimpers, and shifts.

Azriel broke the silence.

“She’s my mate. All this time and I never knew.”, the sentence coming out as a whisper.

Shock was painted on Mor’s face. “Y/n’s your mate? How di-? When?”

“It clicked when I saw her body lying there.” his voice started breaking “Why did it have to happen right now. Of all the times. Why couldn’t it have happened months ago. I could’ve had more time. This never would have happened. How do I move on from this?” his voice ending on a whisper.

���All you can do is hope to mother that she has the strength to pull through.” Cassian replied softly. “You know, this whole situation is so ironic.”, he said softly to himself, lightly shaking his head.

Azriel gave Cassian a look of confusion, wondering what he was talking about, but decided to drop it for now.

“Anyway, let’s try to get some sleep and pray the morning holds better news”

Mor had dozed off, back against the headboard and hand still holding yours. Cassian was sitting in the chair, head resting on the palm of his head, it still took him a few hours to fall asleep completely. Azriel, however, couldn’t sleep. The thought of sleeping while you laid like this. He felt guilty, the feeling that he may have been too late. For the rest of the night, Azriel sat in a chair next to your bed, shrouded in darkness, hoping you would be ok.

---------------------------------

Sunlight peeked through the sheer blinds over the balcony door. The faint sound of birds singing flowed through the air. Light shined onto your face, causing you to groan. Groggily, you opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light filling the room. Your head pounded and you winced as you shifted in bed.

“Y/n?” you heard a whisper. You mumbled in response. “Oh! Thank mother you’re alright! We were all so worried for you. Wait, let me call Madja now that you’re up.” Mor rambled on causing you to smile slightly. “CASSIAN!” she squealed “Wake up! Look! Y/n is awake!”

Cassian jumped to his feet at her shout. “Oh my god!” he ran over to your side “I was so worried, I’m so glad you’re alright” he said, taking your hand into his. “Let me go call the others, they’ve been waiting for an update.”

Soon after, the rest of the inner circle came over to your room to check in and Madja came to see how you were healing.

“That was quite the wound you had. Make sure to rest for the next two weeks. No buts, we don’t want this opening back up from stress or straining activity.”. You groaned at the thought.

“But I feel fine now, it’s not a big deal! I can go back to doing my duties in 2 days. I’ll be good as new.” you pleaded, trying to convince Madja and yourself. Before she could respond, Rhys cut in.

“You will do nothing of the sort. You just got stabbed for cauldrons sake, if i catch you trying to do anything remotely straining, i’ll lock you in your room and have Cassian stand guard in front of it”

“Fine” you grumbled out

“Now that everything is settled, i’ll be coming to check on you every few days.” Madja states before leaving

After a little more small talk was exchanged, the inner circle decided to leave you to rest a bit more, but promised they would visit you as frequently as they could.

Except, one person stayed behind.

Azriel.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Is something wrong?” you asked

After a hesitant pause his voice rang out. “We’re mates.”

You felt a blow to your chest. When did he find this out? As if Azriel had read your thoughts, he responded “Last night. After I found you.”

“Oh”

“But, Cassian said something, how it was ironic, and I can’t help but wonder how long you’ve known”

“I-, I told Cassian that we were mates yester-”

“But how long have you known y/n.” his voice quiet and sharp as a knife, as if tendrils of anger were waiting to escape

“Since the diplomatic mission Rhys sent us on”, you whispered. You could feel the tears threatening to fall from your eyes

“That was months ago and you didn’t think to tell me?” You could feel the anger in his voice

“I thought you would have figured it out sooner. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry” tears started falling from your eyes

“You knew and said nothing. Why didn’t you say anything? You should have said something” he seethed. His anger was unhinged, a drastic change for the usually calm and collected shadowsinger.

“If you didn’t want to be my mate just tell me. I’d be glad to be rid of the bond.”. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. His anger dissipated. He looked up and saw your face, tears streaming down.

“I see the way you look at Elain, Azriel. I’m not some stupid fucking female. How do you think it feels to see your mate all over someone else. I wanted to give you a chance to find your own happiness without me burdening you with this. And if we’re being honest, if you had to choose between me or her, you would choose her. I knew you would be disappointed by me. I knew you wouldn’t want to be my mate, that's why I didn’t tell you.” your anger started boiling up. “Do you think it feels good to be rejected, especially by someone you’ve loved for a long time? I didn’t want you to be disappointed that I was your mate, the person you’ve waited so long for.” your voice tapered off at the end. “Can you leave please” you said softly

“No, wait, I’m sorry I-“

“Azriel. Get out.” your voice boomed through the room.

He left reluctantly, softly shutting the door behind him. Just as the door shut, the sobs that you had been desperately trying to hold back broke free. Your body shuddered as you hugged yourself, crying yourself back to sleep.

---------------------------------

During the following weeks, you avoided Azriel at all costs. As soon as he walked into the room, you would walk out. Any required conversations were kept short. You did anything you could to keep your mind off of him, cleaning, errands, hell you did it all. It certainly didn’t help your recovery, but you did what you could to keep your mind busy and off of Azriel.

“Y/n stop please. You need to rest, how many times do we have to tell you. You’re only making the healing process longer” Mor ranted on.

“I’m fine, I doubt a wound, which is almost healed by the way, would be damaged by me doing chores” you emphasized as you rolled your eyes

“Maybe not by chores, but it is affected by your stress”

A moment of silence passed.

“He feels terrible, you know, he didn’t mean to say it. He just wants to talk to you.”. Mor didn’t risk saying his name because she knew it would only anger you more.

“Well I don’t want to talk to him, or deal with him, or see him, or think about him. At all.”. You grumbled. Your heart clenched, but you brushed it aside.

“Y/n, please. I love you two and it hurts to see our family like this right now.”

“Please, can we drop it, I-“ your voice cracked

“Yeah, of course. Just… keep an open mind, maybe?”

“Yeah, ok” you looked down.

“I’ll see you later tonight then, for Rhys and Feyre’s dinner party.”

“Sounds good.”. You pressed your lips into a tight smile as you watched Mor walk off. You had definitely contemplated not going today. All of the inner circle certainly knew what happened, maybe not all the details, but still enough, which made you feel exposed. You weren’t use to having your emotions splayed out to everyone like that, and it made you too vulnerable. However, Mor had threatened to pull you to the party herself if you refused to go, so being complicit seemed like the best option.

It was just one night. You would be fine… right?

---------------------------------

It was nearing 8 as you finished getting ready for the party, which started at 8:30. You were wearing an olive green silk midi dress. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was still very elegant. And comfortable. You were touching up as Mor arrived.

“Ah, there she is, beautiful as ever.”

“I could say the same about you, darling” you emphasized

“Are you ready to go, I heard the party is getting started, and you know I wouldn’t want to miss all the cocktails”

A laugh mused on your face. You grabbed your purse before the pair of you winnowed to the house.

You arrived at the front door, scanning the scene when you got there. It was a cozy ballroom with french doors which opened up to a huge balcony leading to the gardens. There was a huge dining table in the center with plenty of space to mingle in clusters.

You hadn’t spotted Azriel yet, a sigh of relief leaving your body. You strutted in, arms linked with Mor, grabbing a drink off the platter. You weren’t even sure who or what this party was for, but you realized you had downplayed it after spotting Helion and Tarquin. The high lords in Velaris. But that was the least of your concerns, the only thing you were focused on was avoiding Azriel.

Spotting Feyre near Helion, you breezed over to say hi.

“Ah! Y/n! Helion, i’m sure the two of you have met a few times before!” Feyre smiled out

“Yes, I do remember you! I heard about what happened, how are you feeling?” He asked

“Much better than the last few weeks, that’s for sure. Although I must say, this alcohol is certainly helping” you giggled. “Well I just wanted to pop over and say hi, but I think I’m gonna go find Cassian now. It was so nice to see you again Lord Helion, enjoy your evening.”

“You too Miss Y/L/N”

You dipped your head towards the both of them before making your way through the room to find Cassian. Where was he for caldrons sake. You hadn’t seen him in a week because he had to go up to the illyrian war camps again. Pushing your way through the crowd, you bumped into a hard chest, spilling your champagne. Cursing to yourself, you started to apologize.

“Oh mother, I’m so so sorry, clums-“. Looking up your y/e/c eyes met strong hazel ones, which were burning into your soul. You felt your throat close up, starting to feel trapped in the crowed room

No no no no. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

You knew it was only a matter of time before you would have to talk to him, but you couldn’t do it now. Before he could say a word, you pushed past him and bolted out to the balcony to get some fresh air. You had run to the corner, near the steps to the garden, out of sight from others. Taking deep breaths, you calmed your nerves. You would be ok, everything was fine. It would be fine. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

You decided to quickly go grab another drink before returning to the serenity outside. Leaning against the balcony, you stared out at the stars and the gardens. They were so beautiful, even in the winter, you thought to yourself. You basked in the silence, your thoughts drowning you.

Some time had passed before you heard footsteps approaching you on the balcony. You knew who it was without having to turn around, but you still couldn’t bear to be around him. You turned to leave but his hand caught your wrist, holding it firmly. You could feel the scars from his hands against your skin.

“Please. I just want to talk”

“What’s there to talk about Azriel, you made your feelings clear that day.”

“Just listen, please, and then i’ll leave you alone if that’s what you wish”

You sighed, nodding your head in defeat. You couldn’t keep balling up your emotions.

He led you back to the railing of the balcony before his grasp left your wrist. You tilted your head down looking at your feet and fiddling with your thumb.

“I spent 500 years pining after Mor because I was so afraid of maybe having a chance at love. I thought it was best to love someone who would never love me back so I wouldn’t get hurt. Then I met Elain. She helped me to open up more, and helped me to believe that happiness would be possible for me, with someone. I had given up on the idea of having a mate. I didn’t think I deserved one. I was ok with that and had accepted that.”

He let out a breath as he ran his hand through his hair, light curls falling onto his forehead. “When I saw you lying there and the bond clicked, I was so mad at myself. I shut out the possibility of having a mate for so long. You were my mate. My mate. I never thought I would be able to say those words.”

He paused.

“I was mad that you may not make it. I was mad that I didn’t find you soon enough. I was mad that we didn’t have more time. I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. I Just wanted you to be ok. And then when you told me that you had known for so long, I was angry. Angry that I hadn’t realized sooner, and angry that you kept it from me because you may not have wanted me or expected me to be your mate. And I snapped. Then you said the thing that I had least expected. You said you had loved me” He chuckled dryly. “I am so sorry, y/n, so very sorry.”.

His hand reached down to cup your face. He jerked your head up so you were looking at him. “What i’m trying to say is that I love you, but I understand if you don’t feel the same way anymore”.

The air had been knocked from your lungs. Your heart swelled and your eyes watered. Before you had realized what you were doing, your lips crashed into his. His mouth fit perfectly against yours. He was a breath of fresh air with a hint of mint. Azriel’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you into his body and he smiled against your lips. It felt so right. Everything about it. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you both pulled away, breathless. Your forehead rested against his.

You whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“I love you too”. As soon as the words left your mouth, he pulled you in for another kiss, his wings forming a cocoon around you. This one was more demanding. Passionate. A promise. You pulled away from his mouth and leaned against him, his arms wrapping around you.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Azriel said. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small black box. “It’s your Solstice gift, I was trying to find a good time to give it to you.”, he scratched the back of his head.

You gently took it from his hand. The box had a red ribbon wrapped around. Undoing the ribbon, You opened the box to find one of the beautiful necklaces you had been admiring with Mor. “Oh my Az. Its so beautiful. I love it. How did you know?”

“I may have had my shadows follow everyone around to find out what they wanted.” he laughed out.

You smiled. “Will you help me put it on?”. Handing the dainty chain to Azriel, you brushed you hair aside. Baring your neck to him. His fingers ghosted the soft skin, clasping the necklace together. He tenderly placed a kiss next to your ear, causing butterflies to erupt.

You cleared your throat. “I think we’ve been gone long enough. Would you like to get some food, Azriel?” you smiled.

“I would love to, my darling mate.” he paused before darkly saying “I am especially excited for the part that comes after I eat.”. You lightly smacked his shoulder before the two of you made your way inside, beaming.

taglist ---

@minnie-mitzel @itsbebeyyy @preciousbabymuffins @kexrtiz @vicisbookishblog @peneflop @millianec @agentsofsheilds 

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Rainbow Manor

pairing: platonic DLAMP  words: 5138 warnings: swearing, references to homophobia, toxic/homophobic parents, brief description of a small injury, blood, brief descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks, crying, angst

a/n - hello friends! hope everyone is doing well! i was lucky enough to be commissioned by the lovely @youronelesbianfriend to write this story (side note, their commissions are open too so...whatcha still doin here, go and do that!). i was overjoyed when i saw the prompt she gave me, and had such a good time writing it! (also inspired me to maybe formally advertise commissions? you can peek at my tumblr every now and then to see if i do, but if you also want one you can DM me!)

so without further ado, here is some content ✨

read on ao3!

—

The Rainbow Manor is a lot of things. 

It’s a home for the biggest family that could exist. It’s a safe haven from the cold, stormy outdoors. It’s the kind of blanket made of the same velvet the night sky is made of; it’s quiet, it’s warm, and it’s filled with stars. All it takes is one step inside and you would find yourself filled with a sense of belonging, of hope. 

You could run the furthest distance away from it all, and the Rainbow Manor would always open its doors to you. 

Patton would know. He was the first one to try. 

~*~ 

“Okay, so here’s what happened,” Roman Prince said, looking down at his clipboard as he weaved him and Patton through the halls. “I was going to show the new people around myself, but then I forgot the paperwork in your office — and then I realized, ‘hey, what better person to show them around than The Man himself!’; capital T, capital M!” 

Patton half-heartedly smiled as he snuck a peek at Roman’s papers. 

“How many are there?” 

“Three, so it won’t be too bad. One of them’s Virgil — you remember Virgil, right?” 

“Right.” Patton smiled fondly, remembering Roman’s birthday party last year. Him and Virgil had shown up covered in cake. He never really saw Virgil after that day, but clearly him and Roman stayed acquainted against all odds.

They turned a corner into the break room where three people sat around a table. Roman clapped his hands. 

“Alrighty! Sorry for the wait.” 

All three of them stood up. The one in the black and purple hoodie—the one Patton recognized as Virgil—rolled his eyes. 

“Waiting is part of the contract with you, Princey.” 

Roman faux-gasped. “Hey, that was one time! And if I didn’t take too long that day, we would have taken the wrong cake!” 

“We did take the wrong cake, Roman. That’s why it exploded.” 

“...Oh yeah.” Roman grinned. “Forgot about that.” 

Virgil shook his head, but showed a hint of a smile. Patton took a step forward to extend his hand out to him. 

“Nice to see you again, Virgil!” He then addressed the two behind him. “And if we’re talking cake, I guess you both can call me Patton-cake!” 

The one wearing a black, short-sleeve button up frowned, adjusting their thin blue tie. 

“I read on the website that your name is Patton Morgan.” 

“It’s like patty-cake, but Patton-cake!” 

“...Right.” 

“Ignore my friend’s simply lively commentary.” The last person stepped forward. They wore a pale-yellow button up under a grey vest. “That’s Logan. Do not be astounded by how that pencil is both sharp and dull — he’s always like that.” 

“And that’s Janus,” Logan seethed, crossing his arms. “They’re always like that.” 

Patton chuckled. “Well it’s nice to meet you both. I’ll show you guys around?” 

They all nodded, following Patton as he led them out the door. The icy awkwardness of first encounters fortunately thawed as conversation quickly blossomed. Patton learned that Logan was the new volunteer manager and was close friends with Janus, who was joining the growing team of counsellors. Virgil, on the other hand, was the newly-appointed social media and communications coordinator; a position Roman used to double as alongside being head of recreation and programming, until he overdid it with the website graphics and crashed the site for two days. Sometimes, change was necessary, Patton learned. 

“So that’s pretty much the whole place!” Patton said brightly at the end of the tour, stopping outside his office. He handed them their job description packages. “I hope you all get situated soon! And if you ever need anything, you now know where my office is!” He motioned to the door with jazz-hands. “Here!” 

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan hummed. He looked around idly. “I must say, I am rather impressed by how well-established and organized the facility is, especially for one that is fairly new.”

“Well call me corny, ‘cause all I can say is ‘aw shucks’!” Patton beamed. “You know, if you told me almost a year ago that I’d be standing here today, I think I’d be impressed too!” He nudged at Roman. “But I obviously didn’t do any of it alone. It’s the people that really make this place home — people like Roman, who’s been with me since the very beginning!”

“Oh, Patton! You make me sound like the hero of this place.” Roman pretended to flip his hair. “So thank you!” 

“A humble hero,” Virgil retorted. Roman just stuck out his tongue at him.

“But in all seriousness, Patton’s downplaying his efforts to the floor!” Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist and pulled him in close. He waved out in front of him. “He’s a true phoenix who rose from the ashes and built this place with his own two hands!” Roman then spun Patton away from him, a trail of giggles following suit. “Plus he does a bunch of other stuff too! He has, like, a gazillion side-gigs, he sometimes volunteers at an animal shelter…” 

“It sounds like you may also be interested in a day off,” Janus piped up.

“It’s really not that much!” Patton awkwardly shuffled where he stood. “I...I like staying busy.” 

Janus tilted their head at him. “Right.” 

Patton shot them a quick smile before diving back into the end of their paperwork. Then the three of them, along with Roman, said their goodbyes and scattered to their respective offices. 

Patton leaned against his office door with a wry smile. They all seemed like nice people, he thought. He was lucky to have them. 

(Roman’s words from weeks ago echoed in his head; the same words that were said to him the night of his first breakdown, when they first called.

“You need all the help you can get, Pat.”) 

And he needed all the help he could get.

~*~ 

A few days later, Patton found himself leaning against the front of his desk, outstretching his hand towards the teen in front of him. 

“Jonah, your feelings are valid, no matter what they are.”

The words slid off Patton’s tongue almost effortlessly. Jonah sniffled. 

“I know, Pat. And– and I’ve already made a lot of friends here that have told me that. It’s been so good for me here, but…” Jonah buried their face in their hands. “Every night before I go to sleep, I can’t stop thinking about what they told me before they kicked me out. It’s like I get tunnel vision. I can see the person I have grown to be on the other side, but all I’m doing is going backwards.” 

Jonah looked up at Patton with teary eyes. “And I don’t wanna go back, Patton. I...I don’t want to go back.”

Patton felt a chill run through his spine. Quiet echoes buried themselves in the back of his mind. 

“I understand that it’s difficult to feel like you’re moving forward when it feels like the most important people in your life are pushing you back. And it...it sucks. I’m so sorry.” Patton swallowed down the temptation to cave as he continued. “I...I think all we can do is remember that those important forces in your life aren’t what’s given to you, but are what’s found. And I feel like you’ve done a lot of searching — for now, try and let yourself be found.”

Jonah broke into a small smile. Before Patton knew it, the teen stumbled forward into an embrace, holding Patton tight and crying. Patton’s hands hovered in the air behind their back, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Patton came to his senses and hugged them back. 

“I’m thankful I found this place,” Jonah mumbled into Patton’s chest. “It’s– it’s built on a lot of hope. I don’t think I could have found it anywhere else.” 

Patton’s heart shattered.

‘I wish I could give you more.’ He squeezed Jonah tighter. ‘I’d give you all I had, and you’d never know.’ 

Jonah left a few minutes later, thanking Patton for giving them a space to be honest. All Patton could do was nod numbly. He knew Jonah was new and it was hard to be new here, but Patton was certain that they’d find their place. The kids who came here always did. 

Patton walked around his desk to sit down. He took one look at his phone, frowned, then set it aside with a sigh. For a brief moment, Patton relished sitting in the precious silence that finally found his office. 

Then, a knock on his door. 

“Come in!” Patton said, straightening up and folding his hands neatly on his desk. The door cracked open and Logan’s head peeked in. 

“Is this a good time, Patton?” 

“Yeah, of course!” 

Logan stepped inside and handed some papers to Patton. 

“I filed through the volunteer applications and started arranging interviews in the coming weeks. I just wanted to run the dates by you before I start contacting people. Hopefully they suffice.” 

“Wow! Thank you, Lo.” Patton took the papers, slowly sifting through them. “These look really good! I’ll have a look at them tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Logan echoed. “Are you staying late again?” 

“Oh! Yeah, I am.” Patton shrugged. “Just a bit of extra paperwork.”

“Well if you require any assistance tonight, I can stay around–”

“No, no! That won’t be necessary.” Patton waved his hand dismissively. “Go and enjoy your night, Lo.”

Logan’s stare seemed to bury itself through Patton, enough for Patton to look away. 

“...Well, please do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.”

As Logan was leaving, Patton felt his phone buzz. He snuck a peek and paled.

‘Missed call(s): Mother (2) - 5:34 PM’

“Um, leave the door open, Lo!” Patton suddenly blurted out. Logan turned around and tilted his head. Patton flimsily added, “I– I think I’m going to try and get some air.” 

Logan nodded, lifting his hand off the door handle before walking out. Patton took a deep breath and then stuffed his phone in his pocket before leaving as well. 

—

Later that evening, Patton wandered into his office in a daze. He turned the lights on and inwardly groaned at the stacks of paper awaiting him. 

He dragged his feet to his desk, only stopping to check his phone. The ‘missed call’ notification lingered, except now the number was ‘3’. 

Patton felt his jaw tighten. He couldn’t run forever. 

As he sat down, he noticed a small cup behind one stack of paper. He grabbed it. The smell of coffee swarmed his head. He smiled, noticing a small sticky note on its side. 

“Keep up the great work. Your friend, Logan.”

 ~*~

“Okay everyone! Grab your brushes!” 

Patton blinked. Somehow, his memory of the manor floors failed him, and he ended up in the recreation room. He felt eyes stare up at him, Roman’s included.

“Ah, Patton! Man of the hour! What brings you here?” 

Patton sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um, got lost! If you could believe it, heh.” 

“ ‘Lost’ is just a way of saying ‘found, but with a few extra steps’!” Roman motioned to an empty seat. “How about you join us for a bit?” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, though felt cornered by all the expectant stares. He even spotted Jonah, who smiled and waved at him. Patton sighed. He had been wound up for days now; perhaps Roman’s theatrics was all he needed.

He finally nodded, going over to sit in front of the vacant canvas. Roman grinned at him with a warmth Patton let himself melt into. 

“Alright! Let’s begin.” Roman cleared his throat. “I want you to pull on the colours of your heartstrings. Forget form, structure– even an outline. Your emotions know no bounds, after all! Just remember, your hand is not controlling the brush — it’s your heart.”

Patton felt the words wash over him. Roman, of course, was right; he didn’t even notice his hand moving as he painted. Though somehow, it didn’t feel as peaceful as Roman described it to be. Instead, it felt like something was being pulled out of Patton, as though a claw was scooping something out of his chest and spilling it onto the canvas. 

Suddenly, his ringtone cut through Roman’s monologue. Patton jumped, dropping his brush. A line of paint dragged across the canvas as it fell. All eyes were on him again. 

“Um, excuse me! I– I’m just going to take this.” Patton pressed answer without looking at who called as he stumbled out of the room. 

“Hello?” 

“I see you’ve finally answered.” 

Patton’s heart dropped.

—

Roman was halfway through the end of his monologue when, in the corner of his eye, he spotted Patton re-enter the room, head ducked.

“Ah! I’m glad you’re back!” 

Patton nodded, but in the stilted way Roman quickly recognized. His eyes looked Patton up and down, barely listening to Patton’s stammering apology for interrupting. His hair was disheveled, which meant he ran his hand through it far too many times. His eyes were red, his jaw was tight– 

He was crying. 

“Anyway, I’m sorry again for leaving so soon!” Patton’s voice brought Roman back to reality. “Keep painting you guys! I gotta Van-Gogh!” 

A shaky laugh followed Patton out. Roman frowned, but he nodded for everyone to continue. He passed by Patton’s canvas and snuck a peek. 

It was rather abstract, with overlapping strokes forming a gradient. Roman’s gaze followed the gradient downwards. The canvas was filled with dull blues that turned into darkening greys. Towards the bottom was a thin line of black trailed all the way to Patton’s paintbrush, abandoned on the floor.

 ~*~

The sun sets on a long railroad, it goes past the horizon, it outstretches a hand like it’s beckoning, it’s begging you to run, run faster, everything is going faster and they just told you to go so you have to– 

“Pat?” 

Patton shot up in his seat with a yelp. He blinked quickly, vision focusing on the silhouette of–

“Virgil!” A strangled laugh escaped his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!” 

Virgil replied simultaneously, “No, I’m sorry, you just weren’t answering and I got worried, but I didn’t realize you were sleeping–” 

“Sleeping?” Patton looked down at the time. 5 PM. 

“Oh sh– shoot, I’m gonna be late.” 

“Late for?” 

“Animal shelter,” Patton mumbled, stumbling out of his chair and grabbing his bag. “I forgot that I said I’d come in today– gosh how could I forget–” 

“Hey.” Virgil rested a hand on Patton’s shoulder before Patton could go spiralling out the door. “Deep breath. I’ll drive you, it’ll be okay.” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but remembered the time. He sighed and motioned wordlessly at the door. Virgil nodded, leading the two of them out towards the parking lot.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if it’s a bad time, I was just hoping to run some website revisions by you,” Virgil said as he started the car and backed out of the lot. Patton shakily smiled. 

“No! It’s not a bad time at all, you can tell me about your ideas as you drive!” 

“There’s not much. I was just thinking of ways to maybe make it more approachable. There’s not even really an ‘about us’ page or anything about you–” 

“Why would there need to be anything about me?” 

Virgil looked at him, almost confused. “It’s an amazing organization, Pat. Your name should be up there, especially as the founder…?” 

“Oh! R-Right.” Patton let out a sharp laugh. “I guess I never thought about it before.” 

“I could put something together tonight, I was just thinking it'd be cool to hear you talk about it.” Virgil turned at an intersection. The sign of the animal shelter soon came into view. 

“I guess that’d be a good idea!” Patton shrugged. “But there’s, um, not really anything interesting to know.” 

Virgil frowned, falling quiet as he parked the car. When they stopped moving, Virgil turned to face him. 

“Say, would it be okay if I joined you?” Virgil shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “I, um, have a bit of a free night, and I was thinking that maybe I could just ask you stuff for the website now so I don’t have to bother you later…?” 

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds perfect! Liz will probably be okay with it. I think it’s bath night for the dogs, and we can always use an extra hand with that!” 

Virgil chuckled, following Patton out the car and into the animal shelter. 

Patton gathered the energy he had left to greet Liz and everyone else, already cooing over the various animals he and Virgil passed by. They reached the back and, with only a bit of struggle (Patton would never admit to these cute dogs being a struggle), took each dog a bath. All the while, Virgil asked Patton questions about the Rainbow Manor and his life in general, which Patton did his best to answer.

“I ended up founding the Rainbow Manor a year after I graduated.” Patton wiped his brow as they finished drying the last dog. “I had been living on Roman’s couch for so long after being kicked out and I just wanted to turn it around; not only for myself, but for other people.”

Virgil’s stare softened. “I– I’m sorry. N-Not about how you founded the place but, like...why you felt like you needed to. That must’ve been hard.” 

“Yeah.” Patton forced a shrug. “It is what it is. Sometimes, you have to get lost to be found, right?” 

“Right.” Virgil looked up at Patton. “Do...do you still keep in touch with them? Your parents, I mean.” 

Patton felt his heart squeeze. 

“It’s been so long,” he finally said. “I doubt they’d want to talk to me.” 

—

Virgil offered to drive Patton back, but Patton insisted on taking a cab home. Virgil reluctantly conceded, but promised to email Patton when he drafted the additions to the website. Patton just nodded and watched Virgil drive off. 

When he was sure that Virgil was completely gone, he shakily pulled out his phone and called a cab. 

“Hi! I– I just need to go to The Rainbow Manor,” he said to the driver as he climbed into the car. He found himself laughing. “Long work day. It is what it is.” 

~*~

Days passed, and Patton’s workload somehow doubled: new admissions, new initiatives, new everything. 

(And his mother kept calling. And calling. And calling.) 

To say it was a lot was an understatement. 

Patton found himself going back and forth along the manor halls, forcing a smile at those he passed. He closed his eyes, turning a corner before he knocked into someone. 

“Crap! I– I’m so sorry.” Patton quickly scrambled to gather the papers that had fallen onto the floor. 

“Oh, don’t apologize, I always thought that important documentation would make for good confetti– ah, hello, Patton.”

Patton looked up. Janus appeared above him, outstretching their hand to help Patton up. Patton took it, scooping the papers up as he went. 

“Janus! Hi! Well, if you’re looking for me...here I am!” He laughed, though it sounded scratchier than expected. “Everything okay?” 

“More than, thank you. I just wanted to follow up about my schedule for the new admissions? You mentioned yesterday that I should come to you but I couldn’t find you…” 

Patton winced. His chest tightened.

“F– I forgot, goodness how am I always–”

“It’s quite alright, Patton, I can always–” 

“I–It’s not okay!” 

In the corner of his eye, Jonah passed by. He felt their wide eyes on him. The air grew thinner.

“It’s– gah, it’s never fucking–”

“Oookay. We’re not okay and that’s...okay.” 

Janus suddenly took Patton’s arm and led him to their office. They swiftly kicked the door shut with their foot as they let Patton settle on the couch. 

“Breathe for me,” Janus said slowly, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Patton. They took Patton’s hand and motioned for him to follow their lead. “In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8…” 

They repeated this a few more times until Patton let go of his head and his breathing evened out. 

“I– I’m so sorry, Janus. I don’t know what–”

“It’s fine, Patton. I’m glad I could help.” A pause. Janus leaned back in their chair. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

“No, everything’s fine.” 

Janus raised a brow. 

“Okay, everything’s not fine. But...but it will be fine. I have to be fine.” His mind drifted to Jonah. Patton buried his face in his hands. 

“I can’t be like this,” he said, tears threatening to fall. “I...I just can’t. Not now, this– this can’t be happening now.”

“Unfortunately, these things tend to find us — not the other way around.” Janus squeezed Patton’s hand in a sudden moment of softness. “I...I know what this is, Patton. And I don’t have to tell you what to do because I know you know. You help so many people like you, but remember: when the plane is falling, you have to put on your oxygen mask before you help someone else.” 

Patton locked eyes with Janus for a split second, opening his mouth to respond when he felt his phone ringing. Reflexively, he pulled it out in front of his lap. The air disappeared once more. 

‘Incoming call: Mother’ 

Patton quickly pressed ‘decline’. He then looked up at Janus, whose eyes darted upwards as well. 

Shit. 

“I– I have to go.” 

“Wait, Patton–” 

“Thank you for everything, Janus,” Patton mumbled, and before Janus could reply, Patton sped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

 ~*~

“I just don’t get it,” Roman muttered, leg bouncing under the table in the break room. “I’ve never seen him like this before.” 

“You haven’t?” Janus circled the table like a hawk. 

“What makes you think I have?” 

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that he has about a thousand jobs! Or perhaps it’s that he’s been staying overnight every night to work as if he owns the place — oh wait! He does! But I have no idea why that might be stressful at all!” 

Roman glowered at them, but said nothing. 

“I can imagine that his workload presumably doubled this past month,” Logan, sitting across from Roman beside Virgil, adjusted his glasses. “Between the new admissions, growth in our volunteer admissions…” 

“Okay, so he has a lot on his plate!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I’ve seen him stressed out about these sorts of things. This is different.” 

“So what else could be on his mind?” Virgil piped up. 

Janus suddenly stopped in their tracks. 

“His mother.” 

Roman’s heart dropped. “His– his what?” 

“She called him while Patton was in my office,” Janus murmured. “He left straight after.” 

Virgil frowned. “Why would he...” 

Roman felt as if he had burst into flames. The pieces clicked together in his head.

“The– the fucking nerve of that woman, I can’t believe she’s still–”

“Roman, what are you talking about?” Logan cut in.

Before Roman could respond, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He immediately pulled out his phone. His breathing hitched. 

‘Help.’

“It’s Patton,” he blurted out, stumbling out his chair and making his way out of the room. Everyone exchanged looks, but quickly followed suit. 

Roman weaved his ways through the halls until he neared Patton’s office. Loud sobs were muffled behind the door. Roman felt his heart breaking already as he opened it. 

And there was Patton, on the floor, crying, and surrounded by shards of broken porcelain. Roman recognized it as a vase he had painted for him years ago. He winced seeing small drops of blood surrounding the pieces. His eyes quickly scanned the room as Logan immediately tended to Patton. 

“What happened, Patton?” Logan murmured as Patton curled up closer to him, sobs still wracking his body.

“I– I’m so sorry.” Each word sounded like it was forced out of his lungs and into the air. “I– I tried to clean up, I’m sorry–” 

“Shh, Patton. It’s okay.” Janus knelt down beside him, carefully lifting Patton’s wrist to examine his hand. A long cut ran across his palm. Janus looked up at Roman and Virgil.

“There’s a first-aid kit in my office, as well as a broom and dustpan. Can one of you grab it?” 

Virgil nodded wordlessly, exiting the room. Roman noticed Patton’s phone beside Patton on the ground, and reached over to pick it up. 

“What did she say, Pat,” Roman asked, fear edging the quiet of his voice. The words seemed to stab at Patton and let out more sobs. 

“She– she found out about everything,” Patton wheezed through tears. “The– the Rainbow Manor, where I am– she wants to take it all– she can’t take it all–” 

“Patton, I need you to follow my breathing, okay?” Janus interrupted, motioning at their chest with their hand as they inhaled and exhaled. “Can you see my hand? I want you to try and follow along, okay? 

Patton numbly nodded, trying to breathe through hiccups and sobs. Janus repeated the exercise with Patton for at least fifteen minutes, with Virgil returning halfway and Logan moving to sit in front of Patton to start tending to the cut. Virgil carefully swept around Roman, Janus, Logan, and Patton on the floor. 

“Whatever she told you, it isn’t true,” Roman said after Patton’s breath had evened out. “She can’t touch you here, not with us around.” 

“I– I know,” Patton sniffled. Logan finished bandaging Patton’s hand and offered him a tissue from the box on his desk. “She said so many awful things, but– but the scariest part is that she didn’t stop at just saying things.” 

“What do you mean?” Logan murmured. 

“She...she threatened to shut the Rainbow Manor down.” 

“What?!” Roman shot up from the floor. “But– but she can’t–” 

“You know my mom, Roman,” Patton whimpered. “She has connections all over the city. If she wanted to, she would find a way.” 

“So why hasn’t she?” Janus asked quietly. A beat of silence. Patton brought his knees closer to his chest and buried his face between them. 

“She– she wants a percentage of the donations,” Patton finally admitted. 

“What the fuck,” Virgil growled, stopping in his tracks. 

“I know! It’s– it’s impossible, I–” Another sob. Logan and Janus moved closer to him, with Janus putting their arm around his shoulder. 

“What did you tell her?” Janus pressed on. 

“I– I told her no! Even if I wanted to, I can’t, but– but what else can I do?” Patton looked at his bandaged hand and grimaced. “And of course she got mad, and I freaked out, and I knocked over the vase– god, Roman, I’m sorry about the vase–” 

“The vase is replaceable,” is all Roman said. “You aren’t.” 

Patton just nodded, looking up at the four of them in his office with teary eyes. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Everyone exchanged looks. Roman lowered himself back to the floor beside Patton and wrapped him in a warm hug.

“You’re not going to do anything,” Roman said firmly. 

“Roman…”

“All your life, you’ve taken care of people like they were your family, Patton. Please, let your family take care of you.” 

Patton sniffled, looking around him. Virgil, Logan, and Janus nodded with small smiles, moving closer to him and joining the embrace. 

And Patton just nodded, dissolving into tears; except this time, Roman could feel the relief from them. He felt Patton melt in his touch and smiled to himself, a similar relief washing over him as well. 

(And for a moment, just a brief moment, Patton was home.)

~*~ 

One week later…

“Keep your eyes closed…” 

“Roman, I don’t know how many more walls I can keep bumping into!” 

“Just a little longer, I promise!”

Patton giggled, letting himself be led by Roman through more halls. Then, Roman stopped him. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes in 3...2–” 

“I’m opening them now, I’m too excited!” Patton squealed, and then opened his eyes. Suddenly, a burst of colour flooded his vision. 

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices exclaimed. 

Patton broke into a wide smile, blinking to focus on the sight in front of him. He was standing in the recreation room, with a big banner hanging from the back wall reading, “Happy Birthday, Rainbow Manor!”. Beneath it was a table with a cake, which was surrounded by Janus, Virgil, and Logan, alongside a bunch of other teens Patton recognized. Even Jonah was there, wearing a small party hat with a confetti popper in his hands. 

Patton felt tears well up in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you remembered!” 

“Of course, padré!” Roman grabbed Patton’s arm and led him around the table to stand in front of the cake. “Always normal for a family to celebrate the man who built their home!” 

“Oh, Roman!” Patton leaned against his shoulder, sniffling. “It’s perfect.” 

He then looked at Virgil, Logan, and Janus. “I can’t believe you guys set this all up, it must’ve taken forever!” 

“Actually, it just took a day,” Logan hummed. 

“And the cake doesn’t explode,” Virgil said with a small finger salute. “I checked.” 

“Additionally, we understand that presents are customary at a party,” Logan continued. “So while our present is not materialistic, we do hope it suffices.” 

“Oh?” 

“Sir Nerds-A-Lot is trying to say that we’re pitching in to give you a few days off!” Roman declared. “We handled a few responsibilities over the weekend while you were home, and split your workload for the week ahead! Consider this the fabulous gift of time!” 

“Oh you guys! You didn’t have to!” 

“But we did, and we did so gladly,” Logan said with a nod. 

“Also–” Janus leaned over to quietly whisper in Patton’s ear– “I took care of your mother.” 

Patton frowned. “You...what? Is– is she…” 

“She’s fine, but she won’t be bothering you for a long time.” Janus winked. “Let’s just say I know people too.”

Patton exhaled a breath he felt he was holding onto forever. He nodded graciously at Janus as Roman handed him a cake-cutter. 

“Alright! Before you take the first slice, you gotta make a wish!” Roman motioned at the lit candles on the cake. Patton stepped forward, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then blew them out. 

Everyone cheered as Patton was surrounded by hugs and laughter. He felt Janus, Logan, Roman, and Virgil crowd around him as they started to help hand out cake to all the teens. 

And in the back of his mind, his wish echoed in his head. 

‘I hope to always be able to share this home with my family.’

[drabbles-of-writing]

my head is pounding (I can't stop the pounding)

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“They say you travel dimensions,” Luz said, gazing up at the man, flickers of hope in her eyes. “Is it true?”

“My dear, of course it is!” The man chortled, a tall demon of sorts covered in fur, with a mane like a lion around his neck. “Interested in learning my ways, are you?”

“Very much, sir.” Luz nodded, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m looking to find a way to the human realm. I got separated from my mom, and she’s got to be worried sick about me by now.” 

“I see, I see.” The man hummed, digging around in his pockets. “Yes, I believe I can help you. Come with me,” He said, withdrawing a card with his name on it and handing it to her. “Are your friends interested, as well?” He asked, peering over her shoulder towards the witches poking around at the knickknacks and items around in his shop.

“They’re here to help me find a way to the human realm,” Luz explained, swelling, just a bit, with pleading in her eyes. “We’ll take as much as you can offer.”

“That,” The man said, eyes flickering to the wanted poster sporting a crude drawing of a figure dressed in a purple and white cloak, an owl mask covering her face. “My dear, depends on how much you are offering.”

The building rippled like water, the scene smearing like wet paint. In the blink of an eye, the scene changed to inside a tent, Luz holding a potion bottle in her hand and peering at the murky, brownish green contents within. The man spoke words that meshed together like gibberish, as though his words had been forgotten, as he gestured towards gadgets with springs sticking out of them.

Luz quietly watched, clearly not listening to a word he was saying. Her face was blank, the faint traces of weary hope gone, like they’d never existed at all. Her shoulders were slumped, and she glanced at the potion in her hands before shaking her head and sighing.

“You’re not real,” She muttered, eyes downcast.

“Come again?” The man startled.

“You’ve never been to a dimension outside your own, have you?” Luz said, raising her head. 

“What in the nine realms are you--”

“Nine realms?” Luz snorted bitterly, shaking the potion in her hand. “You really commit to the bit, don’t you?”

The scene rippled again. The two were still inside the tent, but the man had moved. There were tables covered with cloth now. He had a table between him and Luz, who was still holding the potion.

“I’m very busy,” He gruffed. “And I can’t afford to convince you of what's right before your eyes--”

“This isn’t even a potion,” Luz said, raising the ‘potion’ in the air before letting it drop, watching it dully as it cracked on the ground and the contents spilled out. Muddy swamp water, by the looks of it. “I would know. I’m practically surrounded by them.”

“Honestly,” The man scoffed, eyes darting around. “Do you want my help, or not? I assure you, it’s an arduous journey, but I could accomplish it, I believe you could, too.”

“I wanted your help when I thought you had the faintest idea of what you were doing,” Luz huffed, eyes half-lidded in annoyance as she kicked the fake potion aside. 

The tent flickered, like an old tape with a scratch on it. Luz was on the other side of the tent now. The man was closer, one hand in his pocket.

“--vious really.” Luz’s voice faded back in.

“Well,” The man said, rearing back, his mane puffing up. “If you're so insistent that I am a fake, why are you still here?” He said, nose turned up.

“Because I told Gus to find me if you took longer than ten minutes, because Eda was worried you might try to jump me.” Luz said simply. “And it’s been fifteen, and he’s never later than two minutes. Which I’m willing to guess means you either tipped off someone, or you set traps. It was the biggest among my many lists of clues that you don’t give a damn about this whole thing.”

The man growled, looking around wildly as his fur continued to puff up. It would’ve been pretty amusing if Luz was in any other situation.

“I have been searching,” Luz started slowly pressing a hand against her face. “For five days straight trying to find you. And the last two people I met before you tried to feed me to a pit or get me in on their murder clan when they found out who I was.” She moved her fingers aside to free an eye, sending a seething glare.

“And you knew why I was trying to find a portal out of here,” She continued. “You knew I was trying to find my mother, and you insisted you had the answer. Why? Honestly, dude, why?” She threw her arms out in a wide gesture. “What do you gain out of this? Do you get a kick out of leading on grieving people? Cause you need to see someone for that.”

“Everyones trying to make a living, and I’m just making mine.” The man hissed, withdrawing his hand from his pocket, fist clenched. “You know how it is.”

“I’m trying to go home,” Luz spat, the seething in her gaze bordering on barely restrained fury. “And yet I’m standing here, wasting my time on the excuses you're throwing at me. So, no, I don’t--”

A tear tore through the scene, sections of the tent smeared over and blurred, forgotten. Words combined and mumbled like they were talking under water. Luz had her hood up now, turning away with some inaudible, but clearly harsh, words spitting out.

The man unclenched his fist, revealing a retractable blade that he switched upright. He hissed and held it tightly in his grip, crouching for just a moment, enough for Luz to give a bored glare back, before charging her.

In that same moment, a small, furry demon leapt out from under the cloth-covered tables, latching his teeth and claws into the man's leg.

“King!” Luz exclaimed, jerking back as soon as the man charged her.

The man howled, a distorted sound, kicking out his leg as he stumbled and tried to shake off the demon clinging in like a burr, drawing blood as he growled and kicked. 

Eventually, the man just slammed his leg against the closest table, King squawking as he was hit straight on and falling to the ground with a wheeze, curling into a ball.

The man had barely turned to resume his attack before a pillar of ice hit him square in the face. He fell as vines wrapped around his limbs, pinning him to the ground as he struggled. Luz shoved the glyphs she didn’t use back into her pockets before rushing to King, scooping him up into her arms. He raised his head slightly, giving an affirmation he was fine, just winded, and Luz relaxed ever so slightly.

“Emperor’s Coven showed up,” King explained with a wheeze, waving off Luz when she tried to fret over him. “They’re fine, keeping ‘em at bay outside.” He said, tilting his head in the direction of the exit to the tent. “I just thought that, you know, you might be in trouble.”

“And what a brave demon you were,” Luz agreed, smiling down at him as King perked up under the praise.

Smoke flickered over the top of the tent for a moment, like a tape had skipped a scene, before returning to normal.

“You’d do best to stick to what you know!” The man snapped from where he writhed on the ground, managing not to wilt under Luz and King whirling to glare at him. 

“Spreading that wild magic of yours to the human realm won’t do any good.” The man continued, hatred spilling off him in waves. “The Emperor didn’t take kindly to an Owlet like you, why would the human realm be any different?”

“It’s not,” Luz agreed, withdrawing a fire glyph and holding King closer to her with her other arm. “But my mom is.”

With that, she tapped the glyph with her thumb and let it fall to the ground. It burned away at the plants, momentarily singeing the man's limbs tied down. He yelped and sprung free when he could, staring with wide eyes when the fire quickly spread to the cloth across the tables of fake items, catching ablaze near instantly, like frames had been passed over to allow a smooth transition.

King stared wide-eyed, looking between the growing flames and the cold, hardened fury on Luz’s face. He shrunk back in her arms, though she didn’t seem to notice. With that, she turned sharply on her heel and left, storming out through the tent flaps as it, too, caught ablaze the second she touched it, glitching as it did so.

The scene itself was wrapped up in the inferno the moment Luz left it, flames cackling as they grew and spread and consumed everything it touched. 

There was soon nothing but the roaring of the fire, the blinding smoke, the rippling of the world, and a golden eye blinking into existence behind the bonfire.

,

“Luz?”

She shot upright with a start, breathing heavily as she gasped and tugged at the sheets, staring at the far corner of her room. King jerked away from her old mattress she called a bed, head lowered and eyes wide, claws fiddling together.

“Sorry, sorry,” King said quickly, tucking his tail around his legs like a scolded cat. “I...is this a bad time? Should-should I get Eda…?”

“Huh?” Luz said dumbly, voice sounding hoarse as she turned to stare down at King, her body feeling weighted and numb.

“You, um…” King pointed to the side of his face, right under his eye.

Luz felt at her face, feeling instantly that she’d been crying. She quickly wiped at her eyes, breath raggedy as she tried to dry her face.

“Is...is it an episode?” King asked quietly. “Should I leave? I don’t want to--”

“No, no, it’s--” Luz sniffled, hating how her voice sounded and shaking her head, dropping her arm. “It's fine. Small one, mostly just...just a dream, really.” She said, cringing at how slow her movements felt as she leaned back against the wall her bed was pushed beside, attempting to shake off how it felt she was under an ocean.

“Oh...okay.” King said, staying right where he was, claws clinging to the edge of the bed as he looked away.

Luz closed her eyes in the ensuing silence, attempting to banish the memories from her head. It had been just a few days ago, and they’d finally made it back to the Owl House after all their walking and dodging the Coven only yesterday. Everything in between was a little hard for her to remember now that she thought about it. Probably for the best.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Luz eventually asked when her head didn’t quite feel like it was going to roll off her shoulders.

“No, I just...wanted to visit.” King mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

Luz exhaled, forcing herself to bite back the desire to bury herself in her blankets and never see the light of day again, opening her arms slightly with a small, half crooked smile.

King noticed the invitation and took it instantly, scrambling up onto the bed and scurrying into her arms. He curled in her lap as she pulled him close, leaning her chin on the top of his head and exhaling heavily, only by force of will not slumping over and crushing him. 

They stayed like that for a bit, waiting in the silence as Luz calmed herself down, clutching King tightly. If King was uncomfortable or had trouble breathing, he gave no indication. He stayed perfectly still and loose as Luz’s raspy breathing slowly calmed to something more manageable. It was late, but only just past dusk. The soft sounds of others in the house moving and talking softly on the floor below them could be heard if you strained your hearing.

“What brings you in here?” Luz finally asked, straightening her back a bit and squinting an eye, realizing King left the door open a crack and a sliver of light was seeping into the dark room.

King shrugged, a little comical considering Luz had wrapped her arms around his midsection like he was a teddy bear, his arms forced up a bit.

“Wanted to visit,” He repeated.

Luz didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t push, slumping back against the wall and crossing her legs as she situated King in her lap. She knew King would break and tell her if she left it be for a moment. Sometimes he needed a moment to get his thoughts in order.

“Back when,” King paused again and Luz didn’t move, waiting patiently until he spoke again. “When you were talking with that demon guy…”

Luz looked down at him again, only able to see the back of his head and horns from this angle. He didn’t attempt to turn around and she didn’t do it herself.

“Your mom,” He tried a second time. “If we…” King stopped when Luz tensed, ever so slightly. He kept quiet for a moment before tilting his head back, still not enough for Luz to see his face. “When we find her,” He started again. “What’s...the plan after that?”

“What?” Luz blinked in confusion, loosening her hold on King to let him sit more comfortably in his lap.

“It’s just…” King said, turning halfway now that Luz could see his worried, contemplative face. “You always talk about how much you want to get back to your mom, because she must be worried sick about you, but...what are you gonna do after you find her?”

“...apologize for the next decade?” Luz tried, raising a brow in confusion. “Be grounded for the rest of my life?”

“I mean, just,” King struggled for another moment, leaning back against her leg and glaring up at the ceiling. “What...what are you gonna do when you're home again?” He asked quietly. “Is your mom coming to the Boiling Isles?”

“Oh, definitely not.” Luz snorted, shaking her head, not noticing his sudden reclusion. “My mom would freak out at this place. No, she’s a human realm type of human.”

“Then...are you staying with her?” King asked, drawing his limbs close to his body.

Luz watched him then, surprise evident on her face. King wasn’t looking at her, only the ceiling. He was already pretty small, but now he looked as though he was trying to make himself shrink even more.

“Course not,” Luz said softly, pulling King closer to her chest. “I love my mami, but the human realm isn’t for me. Never really has, if I’m being honest.”

“But you said your mom wouldn’t stay here,” King frowned, looking up at her now. “Are you going to stay separate again?”

“Well, no, that’s not,” Luz pursed her lips, frowning as she glanced to the side. “We...we’ll work something out. Maybe I could visit. Or...you know, it’ll depend on the portal, so we’ll have to see.” She decided on. “She’ll have to watch the tapes first.”

“So you don’t know, then?” King said simply, as if he was discussing common knowledge.

“I know I just...need to work out finer details.” Luz insisted. “Look, it’s fine, really. I’m not going anywhere.” She assured, drawing him up and giving a quick hug. “And I’m sure my mami would understand. I’m sure she remembers how crazy I was, this shouldn’t be that big of a surprise.”

She didn’t sound too convinced herself. King frowned, hooking his claws into her shirt and thus keeping her from pulling him away. He used his new leverage to give her a serious, no-nonsense expression that was honestly pretty cute on him. His nose almost touched hers.

“But don’t you miss it?” King asked, tilting his head. “I mean, you’re always talking about how different the human realm is from here and...how safer it is, really.” His eyes strayed, only for a moment, towards the edges of a scar that poked out of the collar of her shirt, one that he knew stretched far further along her arm and body like an angry, tangled thicket.

“I mean, nothings trying to kill you the moment you step outside, yeah, but the human realm isn’t perfect.” Luz said with a shrug. “If I’m being completely honest, if my mami wasn’t there, I don’t think I’d ever be trying to go back.” She said, sounding only slightly surprised at her revelation. 

“But it's your home, isn’t it?” King insisted. 

“My home,” Luz said, booping his nose as she sat him down on her crossed legs, taking a moment to pull his claws off her shirt. “Is where I decide it is. And it’s not there.” She said, giving him a small, soft smile. “But my mom is part of what I consider home, and I won’t be home until I find her. Does that make sense?” She asked, head turned.

“I...think so.” King said with a frown.

“Hey, at the end of the day,” Luz said, scratching at the fur just under his skull, the demon leaning into it. “Just know that, no matter how much the Emperor tries otherwise, you guys are stuck with me, okay? Getting back to my mom won’t change that.”

King curled closer to her hand, still appearing a little doubtful, but far more reassured than earlier. Luz giggled as she used her other hand to scratch at his side, the demon kicking out his back leg happily.

“And, who knows,” Luz continued. “Maybe we’ll find your dad, too. Ask him a few questions, figure things out with him.”

“He probably wouldn’t care,” King sighed, deflating a bit and going limp in Luz’s lap. “You’ve at least got memories of your mom. I don’t have any.”

“Then he’s missing out,” Luz said, swooping down to hug the demon and giggle at his squirming. “His loss, really. I’ll be sure to tell him that if we ever meet him.”

“Even if he looks as big and terrifying as his mural?” King asked, moving his head just slightly.

“Even if he looks scarier than his mural.” Luz said with a very serious nod.

“Alright,” King said with a tsk, shaking his head. “But I’m not responsible if you get stepped on.”

“That’s fair,” 

The two smiled at each other, chuckling quietly as Luz turned and flopped back on her bed, jolting King before he crawled up and curled into a ball on her stomach. Luz smiled up at the ceiling, stroking a hand down his back. King nuzzled her hand, yawning as he shut his eyes, wrapping his small claws around her fingers.

She turned her head to the side, off towards the bundle of items she stashed at the other end of her room. Her eyes locked on the box of tapes under a pile of clothes, the words FOR MOM written as large as possible on the side in sharpie. Her smile fell, and she looked away from the box, face pinched.

“I hope your mom likes us,” King mumbled sleepily. “It won’t change anything if she doesn't, right?” He cracked open an eye, the yellow and purple glow looking eerie as he gazed at Luz.

“She’ll like you,” Luz assured quickly, forgoing answering his second question as she stroked her other hand over his skull and down his back. King shut his eyes again and purred in response, tail wagging. “She’ll like you.” She repeated, quieter, gently squeezing her fingers around King’s claws.

She didn’t speak after that. She did, however, tighten her hold on his back with her other hand, like she was afraid he’d get ripped out of her hands from a simple gust of wind. If she was squeezing him too tightly, he didn’t say anything.

[beauvibaby]

fight - m.barzal

Requested: [x] yes [] no

request-hi!! can you write something with mat where you guys get into a really bad fight and are on the verge of breaking up and all the WAGS and shocked and they’re comforting you and all the boys are just trying to knock some sense into mat about the whole argument

a/n: thank you @softstarkey for helping with the argument!! 🥺

You sat, watching as Mat spoke to her. some of the other girlfriends and wives huddled around you at the table. “Earth to Y/N.” Sydney snapped her fingers in front of you. Her hand rested way too close to his on the bar, was he really that oblivious, or was he simply trying to brush it off. “Seriously, you’ve both been off all night, you practically ran from each other when you got here.” She sighed, looking at you for an explanation, “do I need to send my Matt over there?” She added with a glare towards the back of your boyfriends head. Normally you would laugh at this, but when you stayed silent she looked over to see your tear filled eyes. “Oh, honey.” She gasped, sliding closer to you. “What happened?” You gave her a look and began to tell her all about the fight.

“Mat, I don’t like that.” You spoke pointedly, arms crossed as you looked at your boyfriend who had just been messaging a girl on Instagram, better yet, a former fling. “She’s not doing any harm.” He replied, raising a brow as he looked you up and down, “you look pretty.” He added, in hopes of digging himself out of the hole he threw himself in, you scoffed, “nice try, Barzal.” You sighed, it was about time for you guys to be leaving for the bar, meeting up with your friends but apparently your time would be better spent arguing. “I’m not trying to be one of those girls, but I don’t like you talking to her.” You explained, seeing how quickly it got under his skin, “you don’t trust me?” He retaliated. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I trust you, I don’t trust her.” You stepped closer to him, shocked when he stepped back, an almost disgusted look on his face. “If you trust me you shouldn’t worry, it’s that simple.” His words stung, like he had never been weary of certain guys you spoke too, “it’s not that simple! Mat you used to fuck her before you met me, and now all of a sudden she’s sliding into your dms, clearly she wants to hookup.” You snapped, his eyebrows shooting up at your choice of words. “So classy, Y/N.” He muttered, “it’s true! Does it make you feel better if I say you had sex with her? Is that better for you?” You defended, an edge to your voice that you hadn’t had to use in an argument in a long time. “You’re really going to do this? Now? We need to leave.” Mat responded, tugging at his hair, trying to keep himself from snapping. “Yes, we’re doing this now! Can’t you see why it bothers me? I’m not saying you can’t talk to any girls, I’m just trying to tell you she’s not being innocent.” You spoke, trying to keep your voice level, he wasn’t looking at you when he spoke, you caught part of what he said. Insecure.

“What?” You quipped, stepping in front of him. “Nothing.” He mumbled, but you wouldn’t give it up that easy. “Say it to my face, Mathew.” You snapped, he met your gaze, and you could see the look in his eyes, the one he gets during games when he’s pissed, the one where his sense of right and wrong disappears. “You’re just being insecure, and jealous.” The words stung worse than a slap to the face. You didn’t move, you stared blankly at him, had he really thrown that in your face, something he knew you struggled with when you started dating him. “Right, should I be insecure? Should I be jealous? ‘Cause she’s more of your type than me? Thanks for reminding me.” You seethed, his face fell, “that’s not, you are, are you serious?” He went through a range of emotions, settling back on anger. “You’re asking me if I’m serious? When you just threw the biggest insecurity I have in my face? Yes I’m serious.” You deadpanned, walking past him, he watched as you grabbed your clutch, slipping your wedges on, “what are you doing?” He questioned, walking closer to you. “We are going to the bar to meet our friends, because otherwise we’re going to be late, and I’m afraid we are both going to say even more things we regret.” You spoke, your voice cracking at the end. He didn’t say anything, only nodded with a straight lipped look, walking out the door, not waiting for you. A tear slipped from your eye, you quickly dabbed it away, pushing your anger and more importantly, your heart break aside. He was standing by the elevator, you knew he could tell you wanted to cry, he always knew, and he never, not even during your biggest of fights, he didn’t ever ignore it, until tonight.

Sydney stared at you in shock, “he’s an idiot.” She snapped, taking a long sip of her drink as she glared at the girl who was still attempting to flirt with Mat, the girl. The one from Instagram, coincidence that she was here, you wouldn’t believe that for a second. “Sydney, Sydney, what are you doing?” You gasped, grabbing her hand when she stood up, “I’m not going to say anything to him, I’m just going to tell Matt to see what’s up.” She assured you, she wasn’t going to sit here and do nothing. You watched her walk over to the group of guys, she placed a quick kiss to her husbands lips before speaking in his ear, he looked over to you, a knowing look on his face. He nodded, placing his hand on her back for a moment as he said something in return, she smiled up at him brightly before bouncing back over to you. “He’ll talk some sense into him.” She assured you, “drink.” She demanded, sliding your glass over to you, you had barely touched it for the whole hour you’ve been here. “You need to take the edge off.” She whispered, seeing the way your eyes widened as a couple of the guys approached Mat. “Don’t let him catch you looking.” She chastised, nudging your shoulder. “I don’t know if I want to go home with him tonight.” You admitted, your heart shattering at the words, “I need to use the bathroom.” You whimpered, rushing to your feet, of course, you had to walk right past the guys to get to it. Mat had his back to you, so he didn’t catch the tears in your eyes, but Tito did, his eyes lingering a moment too long, Mat looked back and saw you rushing away, guilt hitting him like a truck.

“What’s the deal?” Tito snapped, catching his friends attention, “what?” Mat played dumb, “Y/N just ran off crying, you guys have stayed away from each other all night, normally you don’t let her out of your sight.” Tito raised his eyebrows. “Sydney said Y/N is upset, what did you do?” Martin sighed, Mat looked between the two guys, feeling the guilt eat away at him completely. “Fuck.” He muttered running a hand through his hair again. “She got mad because I was talking to a girl on Instagram.” Mat admitted, “hey!” He snapped when Martin slapped the back of his head. “Why the hell would you do that when you’ve got her right there?” He quipped, Tito nodding in agreement. “There’s more.” Mat whispered, “oh Jesus.” Tito shook his head, “I said she was being insecure and jealous, it was someone I used to have a fling with.” Mat spoke barely above a whisper but he was certain his friends heard him when he looked up and they were staring at him like he was joking. “You’re fucking joking right?” Martin quipped, setting his beer down, crossing his arms as he looked to the younger boy. “I know, I know, I’m an idiot.” Mat groaned, covering his face in his hands, “a huge idiot.” Tito piped up, he had grown close to you, seeing you quite often as he was Mat’s best friend around here. “She was crying when we left the apartment, but I was too pissed to say anything.” Mat added, figuring he might as well spill all the dirt, since they already knew everything else. “Sydney.” Martin cautioned when his wife stomped over, “she doesn’t know I’m telling you this, and she better never find out, but she told me she doesn’t want to go home with you tonight, so you better go fix this. Now.” She demanded and no one missed the way Mat’s face fell when he heard that his own girlfriend didn’t want to go home with him. “Y/N!” Mat called, he saw you trying to sneak back to your table, but you froze when you heard his voice. “Baby, I’m-“ “Don’t baby me, Mat, I don’t want to do this here.” You cut him off, turning to face him.

“Please, can we just go outside and talk?” He asked, reaching for your hand, you shook your head. “No, Mat, I can’t, not tonight, I think I’m just going to go to my place for a few days.” It was almost as if the both of you had forgotten you even had your own studio apartment, you were always at Mat’s or even if it was your place, he was there, and the thought of being without him made you uneasy, but you couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. You leaned up, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment before stepping back, forcing yourself to keep it together until you got outside of the bar, already ordering an Uber as the tears started to flow.

***

Two days, two days has felt like an eternity, Mat had reached out both days, multiple times, you’d give him one word answers or no answers at all.

“Are you coming to the game?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Work.”

He knew it was lies, he knew you were angry and he was growing tired of this, he was trying to avoid going over there without your permission, not wanting to push any further. You jumped as the buzzer to your apartment went off, you walked over to the box, you knew deep down whose voice was going to come across the line. You pushed the button, “hello?” You spoke, “Y/N, please let me in, we need to talk.” Mat rushed, afraid you would hang up. You didn’t say anything, buzzing him in and waiting by the door, anxiously bouncing on your feet, you heard him stop outside the door, and you couldn’t help yourself, you unlocked it swinging it open before he could even knock. You took in the disheveled look of his hair, eyes trailing down to his, seeing how tried he looked, before seeing him in sweatpants and a hoodie, and as terrible as it sounds you were so glad he looked as bad as you felt. “Y/N, I’m an idiot, I don’t know why I said that, it’s the farthest thing from the truth. I was just trying to be nice to her and I told myself she wasn’t trying to come in between us, but you were right, god baby I’m sorry.” He rushed, stepping into your apartment as you just stood there in shock. “You’re the best person for me, I can’t believe I let you think otherwise, and you’re so much prettier than any of those god awful girls are.” He spoke again, stepping over to you, he reached for your hand to take it off the door so he could shut it. You allowed him to, trying to think of words, but nothing came to your mind. “Y/N, talk to me.” Mat whispered, grabbing your chin to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. “Baby.” He mumbled, watching as you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’re not the one who’s supposed to make me feel like that.” You whimpered, and he was so glad your eyes were shut as he was certain his were glazed over at the hurt tone in your voice.

“I know.” He had nothing else to say, he knew he messed up, he knew it was wrong. “How am I supposed to know you won’t do that again?” You finally opened your eyes, letting the few tears fall so your vision could adjust. “You have to trust me, do you still trust me?” He whispered, cupping your face, you bit your lip, nodding slowly. “I love you so much, you’re the best thing that happened to me, I was so dumb, so fucking dumb to even say those things.” He pulled you against his chest, you hesitated but wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face in the fabric of his hoodie. “My girl, my beautiful girl.” He sighed against your hair, “please don’t let me stay away from you again, I slept like shit.” You admitted, earning a deep laugh from him. “No, never.” He tilted your head up and kissed you, god how you missed this. “I love you too.” You finally answered from earlier, barely moving away from him. He smiled against your lips, chasing them when you pulled away. “No, nope, you’re not going anywhere.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist keeping you locked in place. He had a grin on his face that would never go away as long as he had you like this, wrapped up in his arms and head thrown back in laughter.

taglist: @softstarkey​ @mtkachuk​ @literarycharleton​ @wtfkie​

[honey-dewey]

Sound the Bugle Now

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Medic Reader

Word Count: 2,658

Warnings: Gore, murder of one animal, medical procedures, big Marcus whump, there’s a gladiator fight, Marcus dies for two sentences, don’t worry he’s fine, this is 99% angst, I’m sorry in advance, I promise it has a happy ending.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Eight months after the kidnapping of Marcus Moreno, and there’s no news. Everyone’s almost given up until a drone captures a photo of Marcus, and he’s definitely in bad shape. So the heroes make a plan, and that plan is sending you into the thick of it to help poor Marcus. What will happen while you’re in the cell with the missing man, and will he pull through in the end? 

“I’m sorry?”

The request seemed crazy, especially coming from Miracle Guy. But he was definitely serious.

“We need you to infiltrate this location and find Marcus,” he repeated.

You took a breath. No one had seen Marcus in months, since he’d been kidnapped on his way home from work. Missy had been with you, as had been instructed in Marcus’s emergency file. She was sad and sullen, but still had hope. “Look. Miracle. We haven’t heard anything about Marcus in literal months. What kind of intel could you possibly have?”

Miracle Guy put a photo up on the projected screen. “That.”

The photo was grainy, clearly taken with a drone camera. It was of an abandoned warehouse outside of town, the roof of the warehouse caved in, allowing the drone to capture the photo. In the circle of rooflessness, you could see two men in a fighting ring, the ground soaked in blood. One man was clearly bigger, and around the ring was a throng of spectators. The smaller man had his hands up, defending himself, but even with all the grain of the photo, you could see that it was clearly Marcus.

“Okay.” You stepped back. “Why me?”

“He’s clearly in critical condition,” Miracle Guy said, pulling the photo down. “We need a medical personnel to go check on him. We’ll send you under the guise of you simply being there to treat him. We intercepted a letter by carrier pigeon, if you can believe it, asking for a doctor for their special guest. We’ll say that’s you, drop you off with a tracker in your bag, and voila, we have Marcus back.”

It was a risky and hole-riddled plan, but it just might work. You suited up the next day, putting on your crisp white coat and loading up your black bag. Adjusting your shoes, you got into the inconspicuous black car and drove off towards the warehouse.

As soon as you pulled up, there were at least six guns on you. A large man with a bunch of tattoos and no hair stepped forward, holding a gun in one hand. You took a breath and gathered yourself, stepping out of the car. “Are the guns necessary?”

The man smirked. “Of course. Who are you?”

You handed over the small letter. “Your doctor. The hero, he needs healing?”

The man took the letter and read it over, eyeing you as he thought. “Fine,” he decided finally. “He’s busy right now. Wanna see?”

It took everything in you to nod as if you didn’t care. The man led you into the building, and you immediately saw the fighting ring. Marcus staggered around, his clothes torn and bloody as he circled with a tiger.

They were making him fight a fucking tiger.

You looked at the man. “Does he fight like this often?”

“Whenever he can,” the man responded, rattling the chain link of the cage and shouting. “Oi! Hero! Finish it already!”

Marcus slipped, nearly tripping. The tiger pounced, and your breath caught in your throat as Marcus weakly grappled with the animal. The man shouted happily, his cries mixing with the crowd’s. Apparently, people were betting on the tiger.

How disappointed they must’ve been when Marcus let out a nasty sob and plunged a jagged piece of metal into the tiger’s heart. He fell limp beside the exotic corpse, chest wracking with sobs. Two men carried him off, and you watched him go with wide and fearful eyes.

The man turned to you. “Isn’t it fun?” He asked.

You shrugged, trying to keep your face emotionless. “It’s interesting. If you want him alive, I should probably see to his injuries. He looked bad.”

“Agreed.”

The man led you down twisting and turning halls before he finally stopped in front of a metal door with a window fitted with bars. He unlocked it and gave you a shove inside.

Marcus was cowered up against the corner, blood pooling across the floor. He looked up when you walked in, and surged forward. In an instant, he was convulsing and backing away, returning to the corner, whimpering as his hands scrambled to claw at something on his neck.

You seethed, feeling rage boil in your blood as the man pulled a remote from his pocket and waved it in front of Marcus, causing him to whine and shy away, pressing himself against the wall even further. They’d outfitted him with a fucking shock collar. Now that you could see and notice it, you saw that the harsh leather of the collar dug into Marcus’s neck, the small black box on the left side of his neck pressing deep against his skin. It was clearly buckled one notch too tight. Eating, breathing, moving his head, it must’ve all been agony for him.

Aside from the collar, to say Marcus was in rough shape would’ve been a gross under exaggeration. He was at least ten, if not fifteen or twenty, pounds lighter than when you’d lost him, his face sunken and sallow, the usual brightness gone and replaced with a sickly pale color indicative of severe blood loss. His lips were chapped to the point of bleeding, his nails nothing more than bloody stubs or missing altogether. His hair was overgrown, greasy and hanging in his face. Even the usual persistent determined shine in his eyes was dull and faint. The conditions of the room, the lack of regulated temperature and light, the heavy smell of vomit and infection, the stains everywhere, nothing was meant to keep him alive. They intended to kill him, but not before they had their fun.

You had to hand it to his captors. They had successfully broken Marcus Moreno.

The man holding you shoved you, and you would’ve fallen flat on your face had your sense of balance not been impeccable. Stumbling and using the wall to keep upright, you glared at the man. “If you want me to fix your broken hero,” you said coolly. “The collar has to go. I can smell the infection from here.”

The man sneered, but he pressed a key card to Marcus’s collar. It beeped, signaling that it could be taken off.

Immediately, you rushed to Marcus’s side, worry replacing every other emotion you had. “Oh Marcus,” you breathed, just looking at his body. “What did they do to you?”

You helped him upright, guiding him to the metal tray you suspected he slept on. It reminded you, with a chill, of the rolling trays you kept bodies on in a morgue.

Marcus shivered as you lay him down, grabbing your bag and digging through it to find your shears. The heavy duty blade was technically meant for surgical procedures, but for now, they chewed through the thick leather of the shock collar with ease. You knew you could just take the collar off, but on the off chance that the man had tricked you, you weren’t about to try it.

Removing the collar led to a host of new challenges. The prongs had burned into Marcus’s skin, leaving two identical wounds that oozed and smelled like burnt flesh and infection.

Trying not to let Marcus see your worry, you continued to catalog injuries, finding severe bruising across his whole body, a few spots where injuries had been left to fester, and a rattling cough that worried you.

You determined a course of action, immediately setting Marcus up with high strength painkillers and a few travel machines that would keep watch on his vitals. The last thing you wanted was to perform CPR on his purple and blue chest.

Running a finger down Marcus’s ribs, you sucked in a breath. He was skin and bones, malnourished to a point where you wondered if he’d ever regain all the weight he’d lost.

“Talk to me,” Marcus croaked out, surprising you. “Please.”

You nodded, tackling the worst of the injuries, the infected burns on Marcus’s neck. “Missy’s been staying with me,” you said softly, putting on gloves and pressing gently against the wounds, face pinching when Marcus suppressed a whine. “She’s good, misses you of course. Anita visits on the weekends and we play board games together.” As you talked, you gave Marcus a hefty dose of infection cream, hoping it would work on the persistent infection until Marcus could be treated properly. Putting a thick bandage on the wound, you moved on to gently treating his other infected cuts in a similar manner, each one just a bit better than the last.

“I can’t do much for these bruises,” you said, running a light finger over a bruise that spanned most of Marcus’s left hand while you wrapped his missing ring fingernail. “Or that cough you’ve got. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Marcus rumbled. “You’re here, aren’t you? And you’re gonna get me out.”

You smiled tightly. “Yeah.” All you could hope was that the tracker in your bag was still working and that the team was on their way. “Here, I’ll get you a blood bag. I don’t like that color on you.”

Marcus grinned, sleepy and lazy. “What do you mean? I think bloodless grey is a perfect color on me.”

That managed a chuckle out of you. “Brink of death, and you’re still making jokes,” you murmured, grabbing a blood bag from your supplies and putting it beside the painkillers. “Hey, you’re bleeding,” you said, eyes snapping to the side of Marcus’s head, where blood was slowly trickling down his ear. He turned, laying his left ear on the metal tray so you could examine his head. He looked past your body, staring at the blank wall behind you.

You parted the hair above his ear, trying to find the source of the bleeding. Thankfully, it wasn’t a hard find. A small scratch that looked worse than it actually was. A few stitches and he’d be good to go.

“Alright, my favorite part of field work,” you said. “Miracle Guy cried last time he had a head wound.”

Marcus snorted. “Wish I could’ve seen that,” he said wistfully.

You smiled. “Maybe next time. Hold still.”  

Marcus watched you as you dug through your bag and produced a small foldable straight razor. It was shoddy and unsteady work, but with a bit of water, some gritty soap, and your deep breathing to keep your hands steady, you got a clear patch above Marcus’s ear, exposing the wound and thankfully not giving him any new ones.

“Okay,” you said, mostly to yourself. “A few stitches. Then we’ll be good to go. Still hanging in there?”

Marcus swallowed thickly and gave you a wavering thumbs up while you threaded a needle. Of all the pain he’d been through, stitches with no anesthesia would be mild.

As you worked, you continued doing what had always kept you grounded during field work. Listing injuries. You needed to know them all for when the heroes arrived and asked what was wrong, how could they help? You slowly started at the top of his head and worked down. A likely concussion, the stitches in his head, the black eye, the split lip, the still oozing wounds that stank of infection in his neck, the scrapes across the raised bumps of his collarbones. So many injuries, and you’d not even gotten below his shoulders yet. You didn’t know what he’d been exposed to here. Was he sick? If so, what did he have? The cough and the rattle in Marcus’s lungs was bad, definitely some kind of upper respiratory infection. His temperature was higher than you’d like, at an even 100. A fever, but not a severe one. His lymph nodes were nearly unfindable amongst the mess of injuries on his neck, but you had no doubt they were swollen.

Marcus’s coughing broke you from your thoughts. You stopped cataloguing, focused now only on the heave of Marcus’s chest. “Marcus? Do you feel okay?”

More coughing, and then it finally died, leaving Marcus heaving for air. He trembled, and you sighed. The rescue team couldn’t get here fast enough.

Unable to do more, you sat back and held Marcus’s hand, trying to rub some color into the almost lifeless skin. Marcus’s stuttering breaths were the only sound, and you tried not to get discouraged.

You had no idea how much time passed before a shout made you jump to your feet. That was a familiar shout. Miracle Guy.

“We’re in here!” You yelled, rushing to the door and pressing yourself to the bars. “Miracle! Please!”

He appeared before you as if you’d summoned him, suit a bit wrinkled, but otherwise unharmed. “Did you find him?”

You nodded, standing back so Miracle Guy could take in Marcus’s state. He was frozen for a few seconds before he blinked and started waving to people down the hall. “The paramedics are here. They’ll keep him safe.”

It took all your willpower not to fight the paramedics as they carted Marcus’s limp body away. His eyes lazily opened when they stuck him with a frighteningly large needle, and he whined, tearing up when they started to move him.

“I know,” you said, smoothing over his dirty and overgrown hair. “I know. Stay strong. Think of Missy. She’s waiting for you.”

Marcus chose that moment to pass out fully, but that was optimal in this scenario.  You followed the paramedics out, numbly stepping over bodies and ignoring the blood seeping into your socks. You were wearing Marcus’s blood from fingertips to waist, a little more wasn’t any worry.

The other heroes helped you recover, cleaning you up and praising you. Missy hugged you for half an hour, every minute filled with tears. You were numb to it all. Nothing could help you now.

Marcus was in critical condition for three weeks. His heart stopped twice, and he needed surgery after surgery to even start to reverse the damage done. Finally, once he’d stabilized, he was allowed visitors.

You and Missy were first.

Marcus looked over as you entered. His eye was no longer swollen and some color had returned to his skin. He was still underweight, but no longer looked skeletal. His head had been completely shaved, and beneath the bandages, you could imagine where they’d had to cut into his skull at one point. His neck, the area you’d been most concerned about, was wrapped in thick bandages, but a nurse had told you they’d finally begun to see improvement in the infection. He still looked terrible, but he was no longer on death’s door.

“Dad,” Missy said softly, stopping in the doorway.

“Missy.” Marcus’s voice was weak, but just that one word was so full of love. “Hey.”

Missy sat on the edge of Marcus’s bed, eyes full of tears. When he raised his arms, she collapsed against him, crying.

You sat silently in a chair, trying to find words that would be appropriate. Missy fell asleep against Marcus, his arm loosely around her shoulders while she slept.

“So,” he finally said. “Thank you. They said you saved my life. Your field work was the deciding factor.”

That, surprisingly, only made you feel worse. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Yeah.”

Marcus’s face knit. “You look worried.”

You shrugged. “I-“ you still had no words. “I dunno,” you finally decided on saying. “What’s retirement like?”

Marcus chuckled. “Fun,” he said. “They’re talking about releasing me in a few months, after I do physical therapy and my weight stabilizes. They said I’d need a properly trained assistant to be with me at all times until I was in good health again.”

“That might be never.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agreed. “So I guess I’d better really like that nurse.”

You smiled. “You better.”

“Would you do it?”

You thought it over. “Yeah.”

A grin split Marcus’s face. “Good. We’ll get through this together.”

Standing and sitting on the edge of the bed, you nodded, smoothing a hand over Missy’s head. “Of course. Together.”

[snelbz]

Lost Time {13}

A/N: Another chapter with the love of my life, @tacmc​. Enjoy!

Azriel forgot how small his studio apartment was. Even from the outside, the damn thing looked like a storage closet. With a sigh, he pushed open the door of his little, black sports car from where he parked on the street and stepped out onto the pavement, where horns were honking and people were hurrying across the sidewalks. He nearly ran into two different people from the time he exited his car to the time he made it to his building’s main door.

He hurried up three flights of stairs, dug his key out of his backpack, and wandered into his apartment. It was quiet, and he had very few belongings that actually meant anything to him. Yet, he thought it was necessary to tie up his loose ends and grab his belongings before he went back to Velaris.

To Elain, and his son.

For good.

The thought alone made him smile.

At first, he hadn’t wanted to leave them, even for a day. The decision to go nearly broke him, and that’s how he knew, undoubtedly, that his home was with Elain. 

With a sigh, he strolled through the tiny apartment and looked around at what he needed to take, and what could just be tossed.

And he realized that aside from his gear, his lenses and bodies and laptops, and some clothes he really did like, he could have left all of this behind.

There was a buzzing at his door about an hour after he finished boxing up the few belongings he decided to return with him. The following day would be creating three piles: one to keep, one to sell, and one to donate. The things he’d be keeping would make their way down in a box truck at some point in the next few weeks, by someone that wasn’t himself. He couldn’t imagine being away from Elain for that long, not since he’d gotten her back into his life. And to be from Donovan that long…

Azriel couldn't even bear the thought.

He made his way to the door, stepping over the small piles of things he’d already begun accumulating. He pressed his finger against the button and asked, “Hello?”

A female voice replied, “I thought that was your Benz out front. Let me in.”

Azriel released the button and sighed, dragging his hands down his face. He was really hoping the two days between his flight landing at LaGuardia and taking off once more, she wouldn’t find out he was here. But luck clearly wasn’t in his favor.

With a sigh, Azriel unlocked the outer door with loud buzz! and glanced at the clock in the small kitchen. It was nearly five in the afternoon, and he was expecting a call from Elain at five-fifteen. He was hoping to have this conversation once he was back in Velaris for good. Instead, it seemed it was he was going to have it in person, and he was going to have it now.

Two quick knocks came from the door and he took a deep breath before he opened it, finding a beautiful woman with blonde hair leaning on the frame.

“Azzie,” she cooed, stepping forward and throwing her arms around his neck. If he hadn’t turned his face away from hers, her lips would’ve been pressed firmly against his.

She frowned, her hands still dangling behind his neck. “What? You leave for a ridiculously long time, don’t tell me when you get back home, and now I can’t kiss you?”

Azriel’s entire body was tense, his arms hanging limply at his sides. “Ianthe-.”

“Oh, no,” she said, pushing past him into his apartment. “You don’t use that tone with me- what’s with all the boxes?”

Azriel remained in his doorway. “I’m going back home.”

Her shoulders tensed as she slowly turned around to meet his uncomfortable gaze. Ianthe asked, “What the fuck?”

Azriel closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He knew when he got into with Ianthe that she was a stuck-up, pain-in-the-ass woman. They’d met on a shoot, her being one of the models on set, and she’d immediately found interest in him. Azriel, being the lonely, sad ass he was, had flirted back and taken her back with him on multiple occasions. She had been the only woman that Azriel had slept with since he left Velaris all those years ago.

He hated her with every ounce of his being.

“I’m going back home,” he said, shutting the door behind him and sitting on the arm of the chair in the small apartment’s foyer/living room/dining room.

“You are home,” Ianthe said, lifting her hands and gesturing to the apartment around them. “I’ve told you, if you don’t like it here anymore, you can move in with me. Manhattan is-.”

“Ianthe,” Azriel sighed, interrupting her and crossing his arms across his chest. “You knew this wasn’t going to last. You know what this was.”

“No, you’re just hung up on your stupid ex,” she snapped, walking towards him. She dragged her fingers up his thigh and he caught her hand, pushing it away.

This woman frustrated him to no end. She was spoiled and vain and so materialistic that the first time he’d brought her home with him, he was inside of her, minutes from finishing, and she’d asked what the thread count of his sheets were.

Azriel stood, trying to put distance between them. “She isn’t my ex anymore, and she’s never just been that. Elain is the love of my life and-.” He hesitated, but he didn’t want anyone to ever accuse him of being ashamed of Donovan. “And I have a son, Ianthe. I need to be there for him.”

“Bullshit,” she spit, advancing on him and pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into her pants. “You’ll need to lie better than that to get rid of me. You’ve only been gone for two months. There’s no way you have a baby, much less know that it’s a boy if she was pregnant.” His back hit the wall and she popped the button on his jeans, reaching her hand in and palming him.

God damn his dick for getting hard whenever it was shown any attention because Ianthe’s turquoise eyes sparkled. “See? He still wants me.”

Azriel took a deep breath and said, “Get your hands off of me.”

She stroked him, softly, her tongue wetting her lips as she did so, but she didn’t get much further because Azriel pushed her back. She stumbled over her four-inch heels and nearly fell, which caused Azriel to be met with the fury of the tall, slender blonde.

He had hardly registered her coming toward him as her flat palm met his cheek. A ringing in his ear grew loud as he muttered, “Fuck. Was that necessary?”

“How dare you?” she seethed, and when she reached back to slap him again, he grabbed her wrist. 

“I need you to calm down,” he said, his fingers tightening around her wrist as she tried to fight him. He was about to tell her to get out, but then her knee came up and caught him right between his legs.

Azriel groaned, his hand instantly falling away from her wrist as he fell to the ground in searing pain. He mourned for his balls as his knees hit the ground. 

“Nobody dumps me,” she snapped, just as she grabbed a lamp off his side table and hurled it at him. 

It missed him, but only by a few inches, before the glass base shattered on the wall above him. His balls were throbbing a little less as his head snapped up to her. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He didn’t mind. The lamp was hideous, but that was beside the point.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

“Fuck off,” he mumbled, climbing to his feet. Much louder, he looked at her and pointed to the door. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Gladly,” she said, turning on her four-inch platform heels and walking out. She slammed the door behind her and Azriel let his hands rest on his knees as he leaned over and groaned. He cupped his groin and fell into the closest seat, which happened to be his kitchen table.

He blindly reached for his laptop, opening it and signing into the airline he’d be flying with. Another thirty-six hours in this city was far too long for him.

After changing his flight to one tomorrow afternoon, he set to sorting through all of his shit. He didn’t have much, so it wouldn’t make a difference anyways. When his phone rang, he nearly moaned as he answered it.

“Fuck, I miss you.”

“Aw.” Elain’s chipper voice came through the line. “Will you always answer the phone like that?” 

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Don’t know, I might change it up from time to time.”

Elain’s laughter had his heart growing lighter. “It’s good to hear your voice. I feel like you’ve been gone much longer than you have. Today has felt like weeks.”

She had brought him to the airport early that morning, and he agreed - it felt like much, much longer. They had spent every day together, falling more and more in love by the second. 

“I know,” Azriel said, quietly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” she said, and he knew by her tone that she wore the slightest shade of pink on her pale cheeks. “What have you been doing?”

Azriel hesitated, thinking it best to ignore the whole Ianthe situation. “Packing, and throwing shit out that I don’t like or need, which is...most things.” He figured Ianthe fit in that category, so it wasn’t a lie.

“I should have come with you. You’ve never been hood at gauging what should be kept and what should be thrown away,” she laughed. He looked around his studio and knew that she was absolutely right. He wouldn’t tell her that though.

“No, you needed to be home with our boy,” he said, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

Elain sighed and said, “Our boy, with the help of Uncle Cassian, successfully made the biggest mud puddle in Archeron property history.”

Azriel blinked. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” she said, and he could hear her roll her eyes. “I’m going to be finding dried mud on that kid for the next three years.” He did his best not to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. She said, “I was thinking…”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Azriel said, standing and walking up the stairs to the loft where his bedroom was. He flopped onto his bed.

“Hush, you will this time.” Elain was laughing and Az wished he could capture the sound forever. “Since you’re moving in and everything, I think it might be time to tell Donovan.���

Azriel’s world froze. “To tell him I’m his father?”

There was a slight pause, but Azriel knew she was smiling when she said, “Of course. Why? Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“What? No,” Azriel said, without any hesitation. “Lainy, I-.” His words dropped off, because no words were good enough to express the joy he was feeling in that moment. Elain let out a breathy laugh as Azriel cleared his throat and said, “Fuck, I’m suddenly nervous as hell.”

“Why?” she asked, obviously amused. 

“I don’t know,” he breathed, and there was a moment of silence. “What if- what if he’s disappointed?” 

“Az,” she whispered, and it was clear she was taking a break from whatever it was she was doing. “Novan loves you.”

Azriel nodded, although he knew she couldn’t see it. “No, I know. I just...I’m nervous, you know? He loved Lucien, too.”

There was another pause and Elain said, “Az, he never cared for Lucien the way he loves you. I think, deep inside, he already knows who you are. Who you really are.”

Azriel thought back to a night a few weeks before. Sunday evening dinners were still a weekly thing in Miryam’s house, even four years later. After dinner, everyone was sitting out back on the porch talking and Elain told Novan he needed to go inside to lay down.

Without a word, he nodded, and grabbed Azriel’s hand to tug him towards the house. His eyes widened in alarm, but when he looked up at Elain, her own were soft and she nodded.

It was almost second nature to tuck his son into his own childhood bed, to brush his dark hair off his head, and flip on the nightlight.

“Goodnight, buddy,” he whispered, leaning down and pulling the covers up just a hair higher around him.

Right before he cracked the door, he heard a sleepy voice, “G’night, Daddy.”

When he’d turned back to look at his son, tears already running down his cheeks, he was already asleep.

He hoped it wasn’t a fluke, hoped what Elain was saying was true, that deep down, the child knew who his father was. If Donovan was upset by the news, Azriel would be heartbroken, to say the least. 

“Yeah,” Azriel said, at last. “I hope so.” He took a deep breath before he said, “Oh, I, uh, got my flight moved up. I’ll be home tomorrow, if you can get me from the airport at four. I leave here at one.” 

“Couldn’t stay away from me?” Elain asked, obviously intrigued.

“Nope,” Azriel answered. “One day is too long, two would be excruciating.”

Elain laughed, quietly. “Good. My bed feels empty without you.”

“Oooh,” Azriel crooned, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows. “Is this one of those ‘what are you wearing’ situations? Because, if so...what are you wearing?”

Elain’s laugh was full and his heart ached at the sound of it, not being able to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. “A stained button-down and yoga pants with holes in the knees.”

He only hesitated for a minute before saying, “That’s...hot?”

She laughed again and said, “I found an old sewing desk at work today. I brought it home to make into my new special project.”

The love was evident in his voice as he said, “That’s awesome, baby.”

“Yeah, I think it could-. Hold on.” He could hear the phone pull from her ear and she hollered something across the house. “Alright, bath time is over. Your son is ready to get out and he’s not very patient today. Granted, this is his second bath of the day, so…”

Azriel could see the shrug she punctuated the sentence with. “Okay, baby. Tell him goodnight for me?”

“Of course,” she said, and he could hear her voice echoing as she walked up the stairs. “Call me before you go to sleep, okay? Maybe we really can have one of those what are you wearing situations.”

He swallowed hard. “Yes, please.”

She chuckled, but he heard the hint of lust in her voice. “I’ll go ahead and tell you now, it’ll be nothing.”

His response was short and to the point. “Fuck.”

“Goodbye, Az,” she sang and hung up the phone.

He held the phone up to his ear for another few seconds before he dropped it on the blanket beside him. He looked around the practically nearly empty loft before he got up and started tossing things down to their designated boxes. An hour later, the loft was empty, and he was sorting through the kitchen. He decided to donate all of his dinnerware, considering it was either chipped and cracked, although he kept his mug that had a vintage polaroid camera on it. 

All while he packed, all he could think about was Novan, about how the little man would react when he discovered that Azriel was his father. He also kept thinking about Elain, and their what are you wearing phone call that would be occuring in the next few hours. He also thought about the next day, when he’d be able to take her into his arms and put his lips on hers.

One day apart was far too long.

He was ready to go home.

Back to Velaris, his love, and his son.

——————

Novan was humming quietly from the backseat, kicking his feet, while they waited. As Elain glanced in her rear view mirror to look at him, she was once again floored by how much he looked like his father.

Especially as he fiddled with the camera that looked massive in his tiny hands. “What are we doing, mama?”

She looked back out the windshield, waiting as people filed by with their suitcases, hugging and kissing and crying. “I’ve got a surprise for you, buddy?”

He looked up, hazel eyes wide as he asked, “Is Spider-Man here?”

She chuckled as she saw Azriel walking towards the car and said, “No, but I promise this is just as good.”

The back door opened on the opposite side of Donovan and he said, “Az, you’re back!”

The grin on both of their faces made Elain’s heart feel like it was about to explode.

“Hey, buddy,” Azriel laughed, as Novan flung himself into Azriel’s arms.

“You were gone too long,” Novan said. “I missed you. Mama missed you, too.” 

“Is that so?” Azriel asked, looking up to Elain. He didn’t need the answer, though. Their what are you wearing conversation the night before had proved they were both missing each other, significantly. 

“It’s true, I’m afraid,” Elain said, shaking her head, unable to stop her spreading grin.

“Hmm,” Azriel hummed, looking back to Novan. “Maybe I should make it up to you with ice cream, then.” 

“Ice cream!” Novan yelled, and Azriel laughed as he opened the trunk and tossed his backpack inside. Then, he was falling into the passenger side of the car and leaning across the middle console to press his mouth to Elain’s.

“Hi,” he breathed. 

“Hi,” Elain whispered. 

“Gross,” Novan announced, looking back at the camera in his hands. “No kissing.”

“You gonna stop me?” Az laughed, looking back at the miniature version of himself.

Donovan giggled and hid behind the camera, as Elain rolled her eyes and put the car in gear. She asked how his flight was and they discussed what all he had to take care of now that he was based in Velaris for good.

“Mama says you’re gonna live with us, Az,” Novan said from the back seat.

Azriel looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “I thought we were gonna tell him together.”

“We were,” Elain said, eyes wide. “I didn’t tell him yet,” she promised.

“I heard you telling Aunt Nes,” he clarified.

Azriel swore quietly and Elain’s eyes snapped to him. “Sorry. You told Nesta?”

“Yes,” she admitted, “on the phone yesterday morning, after I dropped you off. Someone,” she said, looking at Novan in the rear view mirror, “was supposed to be taking a nap upstairs while mommy was making lunch.”

“I forgot my camera,” he shrugged. His R in camera was as bad as his R in Azriel and it was the cutest fucking thing Az had ever seen.

“You don’t need your camera to take a nap,” Elain explained.

Azriel looked at her as if to say There are plenty of ways we could use my camera during a nap.

He watched as her cheeks darkened and he cleared his throat. Instead, he asked, “You didn’t happen to mention any other news to Nesta during that phone call, did you?”

“No,” Elain sighed, and reached over to take his hand. “That news is just for us, for now.”

Novan was oblivious in the backseat, fiddling with the camera. 

“Good,” Azriel breathed. “I don’t need another reason for Nesta to slap me the second I get off a plane. Not again.” 

Elain chuckled. “Don’t get that into your mind just yet, she just might. She’ll be coming with Cass to help move you in, along with our new furniture.”

Elain had been wanting to get new furniture anyways. The fact that Azriel was moving in was her excuse to get the king sized bed and the bigger dresser she’d been wanting.

“Our new bed arrives from IKEA today, along with our dresser and a few other things I thought would be nice,” Elain said, her eyes on the road. “The truck with your stuff should be here this afternoon already, too. I may have called the company and asked them to get everything here as soon as possible.”

Azriel raised his brows, fully aware it would have cost much more money to get everything in on rush. “You didn’t have to do that.”

She smiled, although her eyes never left the road. “I just want you moved in as soon as possible. I can’t wait.”

They’d had the conversation a few times already, and each time, they ended up in a fight and fucking each other’s brains out to end said fight. It was a great way to keep from being at each other’s throats, but not very effective for communicating. “I told you I can help, I’m moving in. It’s only fair that I pull my weight.”

Her hand tightened in his. He knew his financial situation was better than hers, but she didn’t know just how much better off it was. She wouldn’t let him tell her. “Az, baby-.”

“No, don’t Az, baby me.” They pulled up at a red light. “It’s only fair. You know I can afford to. You know I want to. Please.”

She gripped his fingers and looked at him. “I’ll try, okay? I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” he breathed and kissed her fingers.

Novan made a sound of disgust from the back seat.

——————

“What the hell does IKEA make their furniture out of?” Rhysand grunted, setting down the boxed kitchen table. “Concrete?”

“Uhm, babe?”

He glanced to where Feyre was putting bar stools together. She was holding a solid slab of concrete with holes left for the legs.

“Is that concrete?” He demanded, gesturing to the table box.

Elain glanced up from where she was unpacking one of Azriel’s few boxes. “No, that’s solid teak.”

He shook his head and left to go carry in another box. “I don’t even know what that means.”

Feyre snorted and set down what she had been holding as Cassian swept into the kitchen, carrying a box. “What the hell is this? It’s heavy as fuck!”

“Can the swearing stop?” Elain asked, exasperated. “I do have a four-year-old somewhere around here.”

Cassian apologized as he set a massive box down on the kitchen floor.

“Oh! That’s our headboard,” Elain said, clapping her hands together. “Oh, I hope it looks as good as it did online. Where’s Nes?”

“Groaning and moaning on the porch,” Cassian muttered.

“She has the right to,” Feyre argued. “She’s pregnant with your demon spawn.” Cassian’s eyes narrowed as he flicked her on the nose. 

The door opened, yet again, and Azriel came in, holding a massive box. “Okay, it’s big, but it’s light.”

Elain clapped her hands together, yet again. “Our bedding! And pillows, I’m sure. I ordered oodles of pillows.”

“I feel like you told him which box was the light one,” Cassian muttered, heading back out to the truck.

Azriel shook his head and said, “I watched them unload the truck. I knew which two were the heaviest. And I suggested they get them.”

Feyre nearly passed out, she was laughing so hard.

Quick footsteps descended down the stairs and then the main floor. Then a thud, followed by a cry, came from the hallway leading to the living room. Az was the closest, but Elain was there before he could think about moving. “What happened, buddy?”

His knee was raw where it rubbed against the carpet and his lower lip jutted out as his breathing tried to even out. “I wanted to- to show Az the picture I took.”

His heart felt like it might melt. He was there, scooping up his son and holding him to his chest. “You can show me, no need to run, dude. You know your mom has told you not to.”

Novan nodded and wiped at his face as Az carried him up the stairs. His new bedroom had been the first to be set up.

“Do you like your new bed?” he asked. Elain had ordered him a racecar bed, figuring if she was getting a new bed, it was only fair that he did, too.

Novan nodded, enthusiastically, nearly forgetting about his scraped knee. “It’s awesome. It’s what I took a picture of.” 

“Oh yeah?” Azriel asked.

Novan nodded, his arms wrapped around Azriel’s neck. “Yeah!”

“I can’t wait to see,” Azriel said, once they entered his room. Novan squirmed to get down, and the second his little feet hit the carpet, he was running to his new bed, where his camera sat. He brought it to Azriel, showing him the newest picture he took.

The bed was blurry, and everything was completely out of focus, but Azriel grinned, and looked at his son. “That is an amazing picture, bud. I just think I might frame it.”

 Novan’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Azriel promised, lifting Novan up to carry him back into the hall and down the stairs. “I think mommy will think so, too.”

As soon as they hit the landing, Novan was squirming and Azriel said, “No running, okay?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Az set him down and he ran out front where Cass and Rhys were unloading the truck. He smiled after him and made his way back to the kitchen where Elain was leaning over the kitchen island, laughing at something her sister had said.

This was right. This was home. This was his family.

And this was where he belonged.

___

Nesta was over it as she sat on Elain’s front porch, watching the boys carry in the endless boxes. At first, she really tried to help, but then, she just got tired. She was pregnant, it was hot, and a nap sounded delightful.

She knew she was being a bitch, too. Even her fiancé stayed away from her.

It didn’t stop Azriel from sitting next to her, though, but she wasn’t surprised. 

He sat next to her on the front porch swing, handing her a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade. 

“Thanks,” she sighed, instantly sipping from the glass. Groaning, she said, “Shit, that’s good.”

Azriel chuckled, sipping from his own glass. “Mom made it.”

The silence between them was tense and just when Az was about to stand, to leave her alone like everyone else had, she asked, “So you’re really staying?”

He turned to her, and tried to let her see the sincerity in his heart when he said, “I’m not going anywhere. I love Elain. I love Donovan. I can’t imagine life without them.”

She nodded and said, “I can’t see her hurt again, not like she was when she lost you.”

Lost you.

It was the first time Nesta hadn’t intentionally tried to wound him with his mistakes.

“And I won’t let you hurt Novan,” she continued.

He understood. They loved his son regardless of whether or not he was family. He couldn’t be angry at her for loving him, for wanting what was best for him.

“I will never hurt him,” he said. “I can promise you that.”

She smiled, and when it reached her eyes, he was surprised. “I know you won’t.”

Miryam poked her head out the door. “Nes, are you ready to go? Looks like everything is in, just needs to be unpacked.”

Nests blinked. “You mean I get to take a nap?”

Miryam chuckled. “I was thinking you could help me get dinner prepared, but I suppose I’ll let you nap, considering, yes.”

“I’ll help with dinner,” Azriel offered. 

Miryam and Nesta both lifted a brow.

Miryam asked, “Since when do you cook?”

Azriel hesitated. “I don’t, I was just trying to be nice.”

Nesta grinned as Miryam rolled her eyes. “How about you go help your brothers put together your bed. They’re struggling.”

Az chuckled and helped Nesta stand. She groaned. “I’m not even four months pregnant. Why do I feel like I’m double that?”

“You sure there’s only one in there?” Both Azriel and Nesta looked up at Miryam. She shrugged. “I’m just saying, we don’t know any of you three’s family history when it comes to things like that.”

Nesta’s eyes went wide. “Oh god, what if he put, like, three babies inside of me?”

“Way to go, mom,” Az mumbled, stepping around her and heading up the stairs. He could hear Cass before he even got the landing.

“Why the heck would they not put the hecking instructions in English? You have to look those up on your phone?!”

He walked in the room and leaned against the dresser. “Cass, your fiancée is having an existential crisis downstairs. She thinks she’s having three babies.”

Cassian dropped the hammer that was in his hand. It landed on the carpet with a thud. “Why does she think that? Three?!”

He shrugged, “Mom said it, I have no clue.”

He was heading for the door. “What does that woman know that I don’t.”

Rhys chuckled and said, “I hope you can read Swedish.”

Azriel scratched at the back of his neck “Would it surprise you if I could?”

His brother stared at him. “Uh, yeah, a little.”

He shrugged and took the instructions. “I visited a lot of places. I’m not fluent, but I can piece it together.”

Fifteen minutes later, they had a whole bed.

Miryam and Nesta had left to head back to their house and Rhys and Cass would be following behind with the moving truck. Feyre was the only one left and she hugged Elain goodbye as Azriel watched from the porch. With a wave, she was gone and it was just the two of them. Three of them, if they counted the little man up in his room taking pictures of his new furniture.

As she made her way up the stairs, she said,

“Welcome home.”

“Home,” he repeated. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” she smiled. “Let’s get started on dinner, yeah?”

Azriel hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist as she met him in front of the screen door. “What’s for dinner?”

Elain shrugged as she fell into him, his chin resting on the top of her head. “Let’s go rummage through the kitchen.”

They did so, finding a handful of things that may not have gone together, but sounded delicious, nonetheless. Pasta salad, chicken nuggets, a medley of frozen veggies, and some of Miryam’s homemade applesauce that she had brought to Elain the night before, when Azriel was gone. 

Azriel lived for that applesauce. 

Five minutes later, Azriel’s mouth had found Elain’s as she sat on the countertop while the chicken nuggets cooked. But then little footsteps were approaching and a loud, “Ew, seriously?” filled the silence.

Elain turned and looked at him. “You know one day, you’re going to want to kiss someone as much as we do.”

He shook his head. “Girls are gross.”

She chuckled and said, “Fair enough,” before hopping off the counter. She picked him up and set him down where she’d just been sitting and he excitedly turned his camera around. “Mama, look at these.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around Elain’s waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they looked through the blurry pictures their son took of their home. Novan said, “Look, this one- this one is my favorite.”

It was an out-of-focus shot of their family gathered in the living room. It was clearly taken from the top of the stairs, but he proclaimed. “All my favorite people!” He named everyone off, pointing to everyone, including Azriel, in the middle of everyone.

“These are great, bud,” Elain smiled and ruffled his hair.

He smiled but when he looked up at Azriel, his eyes sparkled. “Do you like them, Az?”

Azriel has to blink a few times to push back the tears that threatened to spill over. His heart was so full of love, so full of pride, that he felt like it was going to burst. “I love them.”

The grin he received was the greatest thing he’d ever seen.

Elain leaned down, her face even with his, and she asked, “How about after dinner, we stay up late and watch a movie?”

He threw his little hands in the air and Azriel was thankful for the neck strap that held the camera in place on his lap. “Yeah!”

She chuckled. “Go wash up and put your camera up and by the time you get back, dinner will be ready, okay?”

He nodded. “‘Kay, mama.”

Elain smiled softly at him and said, “Alright, give me a kiss.”

Novan held her face in his chubby hands and kissed her before carefully hopping down and running up the stairs.

Azriel watched him hurry away before turning to watch Elain, bent over, getting the tray out of the oven. She put the tray on the stovetop and turned around, stilling when she saw his attentive gaze. She raised a brow. “Don’t get any ideas, not yet.”

Azriel grinned. “I always have ideas, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She narrowed her eyes but kissed him, nonetheless, before getting three plates ready and placed around the kitchen table. Azriel pulled out the glasses, filling them each with water, and by the time Novan had come back down the stairs, Elain and Azriel had just been seated. Novan joined them, seated between them both on one side of the table. He clapped his hands as he saw the small pile of chicken nuggets on his plate, and then he was digging in.

Elain warned him to slow down or he may choke, but then Novan pointed out that Azriel was eating just as fast.

Azriel ate obnoxiously slow after that, earning a jab from Elain beneath the table. Afterwards, Azriel cleared the table and did the dishes quickly while Elain helped Novan into his pajamas. By the time Azriel was done and the kitchen was cleaned, Elain and Novan were snuggled together on the couch, a movie having just been selected on the flatscreen t.v. that hung from the wall.

He hurried up the stairs, trading out his black jeans for black sweats and his black Henley for a black tank top and joined them on the couch. He picked Novan up from where he leaned against the arm of the couch and sat down, replacing him on his lap. Novan turned back and looked at him and then turned to Elain.

“Mama, I want tattoos like Azriel’s.”

Elain rolled her eyes and Azriel chuckled. “You can get as many tattoos as you want, just as soon as you turn eighteen,” she said.

He asked, “When’s that?”

She shrugged and said, “About thirteen years, give or take a few months.”

The sigh that left the four-year-old would have put Oscar-nominated actresses to shame. “That’s so far.”

“How about tomorrow?” Azriel asked, as the movie began to play. “Is tomorrow so far?”

Novan sat up straighter. “I can have a tattoo tomorrow?”

“I’ll give you one, a super special one,” Azriel whispered into his ear, and Novan was practically beaming. When he met Elain’s gaze, she had arched a brow.

“Washable tattoos, don’t worry, I’m not going to cover the kid in Sharpie,” Azriel promised, and laid his head down on Elain’s shoulder, taking Novan with him. Elain moved Azriel’s fallen bangs off his forehead before pressing her lips to his skin and snuggling up with her boys as the movie played. 

Azriel had expected Novan to start falling asleep, but he stayed up and alert for the entire movie. Azriel had seen Finding Nemo years ago, but he couldn’t stop looking down at Novan for his reactions, even though he was certain the four-year-old only saw a funny fish movie, not a movie about a father who would do absolutely anything for his son. 

It was all Azriel could think about, though. It took every ounce of self control to watch the movie instead of blurting out the fact that he was Novan’s dad.

The movie ended and as if on cue, Novan yawned and curled back against Azriel. Elain pressed a kiss to the top of his head and asked, “Are you sleepy, buddy?”

He rubbed his eyes, but said, “Not really.”

“Not really?” She chuckled. “Well then I guess we should turn another movie on until you get sleepy.” He nodded and smiled up at her.

Azriel got up and began flipping through the other movie options, settling on a classic from his own childhood.

As the opening of the Lion King began to play in the background, Elain cleared her throat. “Honey, Az and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Novan looked up from where he sat between them. His hazel eyes were sleepy, but attentive. “Okay.”

Elain and Azriel looked at each other but when neither of them said a word, Novan frowned. “What?”

“Azriel lives here now with us,” Elain began, but her words fell short, leaving Novan even more confused. 

He rolled his eyes. “I know, mommy.”

“Right,” Elain muttered, and Azriel chuckled, which earned him an exasperated glare. “Well, there are a few reasons why Azriel moved in here to live with us.”

“I’m happy he lives with us now, mommy,” Novan beamed. 

Her eyes softened. “Me too, because mommy loves him very much, and I wanted to see him every day.”

“That’s why you asked him to live with us?” Novan grinned up at Azriel, who was already watching him in adoration. 

Elain nodded. “Yes...That, and because-.” She paused, and took Azriel’s hand in her own before taking a deep breath, and continuing. “And because he’s your daddy.”

“He can be my daddy.” Novan said, climbing into his lap. “I’ve never had a daddy, but I always wanted one.”

“That’s what we’re saying, baby,” Elain brushed his hair back off of his face. “He is your daddy, Novan. Azriel is your father.”

Elain watched as the small pieces clicked into place in Novan’s head. She watched as the intricate puzzle came together and when he finally turned around to look at Azriel, a wide smile on his face, both she and Azriel were crying.

“You’re my daddy?” He asked, looking up at him.

Azriel nodded, slowly. “Yeah, buddy. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” His voice broke, although he tried to keep his words as steady as possible.

“That’s okay, you’re here now,” Novan whispered, his little arms wrapped around Azriel’s shoulders. “I waited for you.”

Azriel had never felt the amount of love that he felt in that moment, looking into the eyes identical to his own. He nodded, and wrapped his arms around his son. He held Novan close to him as he whispered, “Thank you. I’m so glad you did, because I’m not leaving, okay? I’ll be here forever.”

[violetwolfraven]

Prompt: "You don't have to hide your tears from me" for Redfinch

Mkay! Angst time! Let’s go!! I’m writing this the week after Valentine’s Day!! Woohoo!!

Anyway this takes pre-canon. So... spoiler alert they do get together later along this timeline, but right now it’s angsty and the boys aren’t together yet.

Tw: mentioned abusive parenting, toxic masculinity, unrequited crush.

...

Finch didn’t really understand blood ties. The concept of owing something to your biological family the way some of the other boys seemed to.

He didn’t understand why Albert, Elmer, and Buttons kept going back to their families even though all three of them always came back tired and usually a bit ticked off at best, genuinely upset at worst.

But then again, Finch didn’t remember his family beyond his father’s fists and his mother’s voice yelling at him. He’d run away when he was 6 and never looked back, and now he only thought of them when he was working through a nightmare or an old scar twinged in the cold weather.

The newsies weren’t exactly a family, he guessed, considering most of them weren’t blood, but they were like one. Better than most families, in some ways, with how Jack and Crutchie took care of the others and though sometimes jokes were at friends’ expense, it was never in a mean way. They were ride or die for each other.

Maybe that was what a family was supposed to be, but Finch knew he’d never seen blood family that was like that. He sure knew that the only people he was ride or die for were the ones he’d chosen.

He really hated seeing the people he’d chosen hurting. Especially when it was because of their so called ‘families.’

He hated seeing when Elmer came back from his parents’ house reserved and quiet, acting surprised when his friends actually paid attention to him, and he hated how exhausted Buttons always was, practically falling asleep on his feet.

But most of all, he hated how defensive and angry Albert always was when he came home from his dad’s house. How he acted for a good couple days afterwards, like any emotion other than anger was weakness.

This morning seemed to be an especially bad day, and everyone could see it. Even Wiesel and the Delanceys wisely avoided antagonizing him too much, knowing by the look in his eyes how bad of an idea it would be to mess with him today. The other newsies were giving him space, and honestly, the fact that they were letting him on the streets today at all was a little questionable.

Finch knew Albert. He knew how that boy’s words could be just as dangerous as his fists, and could get him into more trouble. It was useful sometimes, Albert’s uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing to start a fight. It was good for causing distractions if they were running from someone or to divert away from a topic he or a friend didn’t want to talk about. Finch actually was impressed with how he could always do that without fail.

But he really didn’t feel like helping his friend escape the Refuge again. Not today.

So, after a morning of watching him seethe with anger over... something involving his dad and brothers, Finch pulled him aside in an alley, putting his papes down on a crate and blocking the way out to keep Albert from leaving.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do ya mean ‘what’s wrong?’ Nothin’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Albert tried to shove past him, clearly getting more annoyed when he didn’t let him.

“Move.”

“No,” Finch crossed his arms, “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.”

“We’re gonna miss the mornin’ rush cause you’s seein’ things,” Albert urged, trying to escape again, “Nothin’s wrong, Finch. Move.”

“No.”

“Move!”

“No.”

“Just cause you’s sweet on me don’t mean you gotta care ‘bout my problems,” Albert hissed.

Well, that was... unexpected.

Finch still didn’t know how Albert had even found out about his crush—he hadn’t bothered to ask how—but since that time a month ago where Al tried to kiss him and Finch made it clear that he wouldn’t settle for being his rebound guy, they hadn’t spoken of anything involving that. He was pretty sure Albert had been being his friend as a way to make that incident’s thoughtlessness up to him, but neither of them had actually acknowledged that conversation happened.

Bringing it up now was a dick move. Especially considering Finch could tell Albert was still hurting over Race, because he was still in love with him, because of course he was because Finch’s luck was shit.

Well, at least it looked like it was dawning on Albert—albeit slowly—how much of a dick move that was.

“I shouldn’ta said that. Sorry. Still, move.”

Finch let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and shook his head, “No.”

“Please?”

He was a little surprised to hear him say that, but he still refused to move.

“No,” he insisted. “No, cause I know what you’re gonna do if I let ya leave this alley without talkin’. You’ll just bottle it up like ya always do, and then eventually you’ll snap on somebody and pretend you’re mad when you’re actually scared or sad. And besides the fact that you can’t last like that—it ain’t healthy—that ain’t fair to the others and I’d rather it be me you yell at than one of them.”

Albert scoffed, “I do not bottle—“

“Yes, you do,” Finch interrupted, “And it used to be Race who made ya let it out before ya snapped on someone who couldn’t handle it, but you and him don’t talk no more lately for obvious reasons, so I guess it’s gotta be me.”

It hurt that Albert didn’t trust him enough to talk the way everyone knew he used to with Race, but Finch didn’t let it show. He knew firsthand how secrets could burn holes in you. He himself confided in Henry, Tommy Boy, and Sniper when he needed someone to talk to. And he would like to be able to confide in Albert someday, but...

Trust went both ways. Admittedly, he had trouble with trust some days, so maybe it wasn’t fair that he was asking Albert to trust him.

Maybe he needed to give a little to show it was okay.

“Look, I... I know what it’s like to get hurt by somebody who’s supposed to care ‘bout you,” he admitted, “My mom and pop weren’t exactly... they... I know what I went through ain’t the same as what’s goin’ on with you now, but I’m only gonna ask you one more time: what’s wrong?”

Albert was still staring him down like he thought he could get him to back out, but Finch did see a flicker of surprise at the little piece of his past he’d confessed.

Nobody in Manhattan knew his past. He’d made sure he left all that behind in Flushing. He was sure plenty of the fellas—Albert included—had guessed the general idea, but no matter how bad the nightmares got some times of the year, Finch always tried to focus on just the right now’s problems.

He had that in common with Tommy Boy, Henry, and Sniper. Their ‘just the four of them’ talks always danced around what they were actually upset about, because openly talking about families or parents or home lives, past or present, was just too painful. That was why they gravitated to each other. Because they were the only ones who could figure out what the others meant by what they actually said. Sure, Jack took care of everybody, but he was too busy with taking care of the whole damn borough to have time to figure out their mind games. Crutchie was still trying, but he had duties as one of Manhattan’s seconds, too. Everybody else had either given up or didn’t care enough to try in the first place.

Albert knew all that. Or... he knew how much Finch was letting down his guard, openly telling him even that little.

He gave up on trying to make him back down and looked at the ground with an angry huff.

“It don’t matter, okay? Nothin’ Ben and John ain’t said to me before.”

“So it’s not a problem with your dad?” Finch asked, relieved. Sure, Albert’s brothers were technically adults, but they weren’t a big threat.

He scoffed, “No, of course not. Dad’d have to actually look at me to give me problems. Which he don’t. Practically ever. I remind him too much of Mom, as if that’s my fuckin’ fault.”

The anger in his voice was dripping with sadness, and it broke Finch’s heart. Albert didn’t deserve that.

But that was more of a long-term problem. Right now, it wasn’t what he was most upset about.

“So... Ben and John?”

“Oh, yeah,” Albert said sarcastically, “Y’know, they both had their first sweethearts by the time they was my age, so it’s hilarious to dump on how Albert’s gonna die alone. John’s gonna marry Thea, so it’s a great time to laugh ‘bout me not havin’ anyone to bring to the wedding like how Ben’s got Elizabeth. And it’s all in good fun, so I’m too goddamn defensive for gettin’ mad about it! Yeah, I’m the irrational one despite how I ain’t the one who started it!”

If he was this upset about a few little jabs from his brothers, that meant it wasn’t actually about them at all, and Finch probably should have tried to make him talk before now.

If the heartbreak he was trying to hide by keeping his face turned to the dirt was any indication, this was about Race. And that stung a bit, but it was clearly still burning at Albert.

Finch could deal with his own unreturned feelings. Sure, it hurt, but it was nothing he hadn’t been feeling for months. And he’d gotten rejected before, so it wasn’t anything new.

But Albert had never felt this before. He was volatile and emotional and he didn’t know how to express it any way but with anger because that was how he’d been raised. To his credit, he’d tried to push the others away, knowing his own tendency to lash out, but Finch hadn’t let him push him away.

Finch prided himself on his ability to read people, so he could tell exactly how gone Albert had been over Race. He could tell how much that was hurting him now, how much it was tearing him apart, and...

And Albert was crying.

“Al—“

“Shut up,” Albert snapped, even though his voice trembled.

Three years since he’d come to Manhattan. Finch had seen most of his friends cry in that time, but not Albert.

Admittedly... he wasn’t sure what to do. The others usually gave him a sign whether to leave them alone or try to comfort them, but the thing about Albert was that he craved affection but would never be caught dead admitting it. He hated letting anyone see him as anything other as unshakable even if he was on the verge of collapse.

They were just standing there in that alleyway, a couple feet apart, Albert staring hard at the ground as his shoulders shook and tears dripped off his face and Finch frozen, no clue what to do.

“Al,” he said hesitantly, “It’s okay to cry.”

“No. It ain’t right for a boy.”

“Really?” Finch risked taking a step closer, reaching out a hand slowly.

Albert clearly saw him, but didn’t back away or stop him, allowing Finch put a comforting hand on his arm.

“That ain’t what you told me,” he pointed out, “That time when I woke ya up with a nightmare. You just hugged me till I could breathe again.”

“That was different,” Albert shot back, finally looking back up to look him in the eyes, “You was hurtin’.”

“And you’re not hurtin’ now? Al, look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not breakin’ up inside.”

He didn’t. Or... couldn’t.

“Albert,” Finch said quietly, “You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

He still looked like he wanted to hide them, but instead, he leaned forward, kind of head-butting Finch in the shoulder except he left his face there, his tears soaking through the fabric.

Finch would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t skip a beat at the contact but he shook it off, focusing on how that was a pretty clear signal that this was okay.

“It’s okay, Al,” Finch whispered, wrapping his arms around him.

He didn’t say that it would get better or that Albert would find someone else who’d love him back. He knew that saying those things didn’t make heartbreak any better.

Just being there, being a friend, being a shoulder to cry on, was better for now.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Baby Bird- Rewrite

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: SMUT

Word count:  5296

Summary: This is a rewrite of my first ever fic! I didn’t really incorporate the whole Baby Bird thing in this one, and i did change a lot of it, though the story is still very similar to each other. I’m pretty proud of it! Let me know what you guys think!

You can find the original on my Masterlist

Read it on Ao3

Kofi

You had a relatively good relationship with most of your brothers.

You loved watching rom-coms with Dick when you both got the time, and he was always there to lend you an ear. He was the first person whom you truly loved unconditionally, as he brought you out of your shell when Bruce first found you and took you in.

Tim was a bit harder, but mostly because he was shy. You didn’t really have many things in common with Tim except that the both of you were more business savvy than the rest. The two of you were the main attractions during Wayne Enterprises’ functions, and you would even share projects together.

Damian was a tough nut to crack, but after he came in, it only took you a couple months before he started showing you that he didn’t mind you. Scratch that- you were pretty sure that you were his favorite. Everyone else treated him like he wanted to be treated, an adult. But you maintained a perfect balance of shaking his hand business-like when you meet him, and spoiling him with hugs and kisses he pretends to hate.

You never had brothers before, but you were sure that the ones you had now were as perfect as brothers could ever be.

But then there was Jason.

You didn’t see him as someone you loved brotherly, someone you relied on, or someone you shared hugs and kisses with. That’s because for some reason, he hated you.

Well, hate was a strong word. Maybe he just really disliked you.

In fact- he disliked you so much that he would try to avoid you as much as possible. You tried so hard to get on his good side. Read the same books he did just so you could have something to talk about, even took his side whenever he argued with the boys or Bruce.

In which he would respond with a gruff “I don’t need your help.”

You were at a loss. All you wanted was to be close to him. Maybe cuddle up with him on the sofa, leaning against his hard body. Maybe feel his large, thick, magnificent hands resting on your thigh whenever he sat next to you during dinners. Maybe brush your lips against his chapped, pink-

Whatever his problem was, it made you frustrated.

***

“Where are you going?” Jason glared at you from the living room. He was lying down on the sofa with his feet up, peeking at you from behind his book.

You blinked your eyes in surprise. He hardly ever initiated conversation with you. Perhaps he was finally warming up to you? You tried to hide your smile as you walked closer to him from the staircase.

“I’m going to see someone,” you answered and smiled sweetly at him, trying your best not to agitate him in any way.

“Who?” he frowned, sitting upright.

You tried to hide your surprise again. Two questions in a row? He must be in a good mood.

“Uhm, Ray,” you replied, “We take the same class in college.”

“Why are you wearing that?” he shot a dirty look.

This time, you frowned and looked down at yourself. You were only wearing a tight baby doll t-shirt with a skater skirt that went up to your mid-thigh.

“Uh, I always wear stuff like this,” you told him.

“No, you don’t,” he narrowed his eyes at you, judging you from top to bottom.

You felt a bit offended. Was he really questioning your sense in fashion?

You wanted to bite back, but refrained from doing so. You really didn’t want to get even further on his bad side.

“You’re right,” you forced a grin, “Maybe my choice in fashion tonight is a bit odd. I think I’ll change my sneakers to flats. What do you think?”

“It’s not the shoes,” he rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Do what you want.”

And he went back to his book.

You stood there in silence, mouth slightly ajar, confused as to what happened. Before you could gather your thoughts and say something, your phone rang.

“That’s me,” you announced, “I’m going now.”

Jason didn’t answer.

***

The date went well. Ray was a cute guy. His olive eyes complimented his tanned skin, his chestnut hair falling in soft locks around his sharp, angular face. He was polite as well, even walking you up to the door from his car.

“I had a good time, Ray, thank you,” you giggled, slightly buzzed from the cocktails he bought you.

“Me too,” he smiled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. “You look so pretty tonight, did I mention that?”

“Yes, like five times,” you laughed, slapping his chest. “I’m glad you think so. My brother basically snorted at my fashion choice.”

“What, this skirt?” he widened his eyes, pulling you closer by the waist. “This skirt drove me crazy all night.”

“Your damn flirting drove me crazy all night,” you purred, snaking your arms behind his neck.

“I’ve been thinking of kissing you,” he admitted, his voice turning low. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you tiptoed and crashed your lips against his, eliciting a deep and guttural moan from him. His hands slid from your waist down to your ass, bunching up your skirt with every squeeze.

Suddenly, he was gone.

You blinked a couple of times before realising what had happened.

“Get the fuck off her,” you heard a familiar snarl.

Jason had ripped Ray off from you, causing him to stumble backwards. You were speechless, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“Jason!” you hissed, “Ray, I’m so sorry. This is my brother, Jason.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he chuckled nervously.

“Adoptive brother,” he corrected you.

That made your chest tighten.

“Ray is my date tonight,” you told Jason, ignoring his previous statement, “He was just saying goodbye.”

“Well?” Jason crossed his arms, “Say goodbye, then.”

“Uh, it’d be nice if we had some privacy,” you tried to tell him.

“No,” he simply stated, looking straight at Ray as if sizing him up, daring him to do something.

“Jason-”

“Get scarce, or I’ll break your jaw,” he growled.

“O-okay,” Ray surrendered, “Going now. Bye, I guess.”

And he half walked half ran to his car without waiting for your answer.

You just watched him silence as he drove off, and then turned to Jason angrily.

“What the hell was that?” you barked, shoving him aside to enter the manor.

“He had his hands all over you,” he replied coldly.

“So?” you argued, “I’m an adult, Jason. I can sleep around with guys if I want to.”

You thought you saw his jaw clench.

“You can’t,” he grit.

“Excuse me?”

“You. Can’t,” he repeated.

Now, you know Jason had some anger problems, what with the Pit and daddy issues and all that. And you have seen him throw his tantrums. Whether it was breaking chairs, or beating people up. If you lived with Jason Peter Todd, you knew how destructive he could be.

And you knew it wasn’t his fault. You knew that he was constantly trying to be better, which was why he moved back into the manor in the first place. To be with family, hoping that the company and care and attention would help his mental state.

Yet, against all your inner voices screaming at you to stop, against all you rationality, you couldn’t help but provoke him even more, because you were just fucking sick and tired with him treating you like shit when you had tried so hard to be nice to him.

“All this while you refuse to acknowledge me as your sister, you ignore me, push me away, fucking criticize my choice of clothes,” you seethed, “And now you’re telling me that I can’t do whatever the fuck I want with my own body?”

“You can do whatever you want,” he replied, “I just won’t let you.”

“Let me?” you repeated, “Let me?! Who the fuck are you? Because you’re obviously trying very hard to not be my brother!”

“Fucking hell, listen to yourself!” he groaned, “Spouting all this brother, sister crap! I know you try your goddamn best to fill whatever void you have with this family shit, but you want to know the hard and honest truth?”

He stalked towards you, jaw set and mouth in a thin line before leaning in close and saying the harsh words in a dead voice, “I will never think of you as my sister.”

Your breath stuttered then. If it was any other situation, it would have been because he was so close to you that you could feel his warm breath on your face. But this time, it was because you were trying hard to force back the tears into your eyes.

Did he really hate you that much?

Instead of asking him that direct question, you tested his patience even more.

“Just because your own mother betrayed you, doesn’t mean the rest of the world will,” you lashed out, “But you know what? I can see why she did it.”

And you regretted every single word you said the moment it came out of your mouth.

You saw Jason’s expression change, from the stable frustration before, into a flash of white hot anger. He was shaking, his nose flaring, his hands in fists.

“I- I-” you stuttered, “I didn’t mean-”

Before you registered what had happened, you jumped when you heard a loud bang!

In the raging anger he felt, Jason punched a large crack into the old wooden wall of the mansion, and then stormed off, kicking a vase down in the process of walking up the stairs. The final noise you heard from Jason was his door slamming shut.

Fuck.

You were a horrible person for saying that. The guilt crept in as you realised how harsh your words were.

Well, it wasn’t like he was nice to you either.

Still, he didn’t stoop so low as to bring up your painful past and use it against you.

Sighing, you argued with yourself in your head as you walked up the staircase to go to your own room. Jason’s room was just down the hall from yours, and you hesitated in front of your room, considering that maybe you should go and apologize.

With a deep breath, you head over to his door and raised your knuckles to knock, but midway, just a split second before you hit the wood, you noticed that the door was open by a teeny tiny crack.

And a tired moan coming from inside.

You froze, fist still in the air, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck.

Another moan, and the sound of the springs of his bed creaking.

No. No, no, no, you weren’t supposed to be there. You weren’t supposed to be listening in on his private, intimate moment.

You felt a tingle between your thighs.

Fuck, and you most definitely were not supposed to get turned on either.

Yet, at the back of your head you couldn’t help but add this piece of information like you would a note on a calendar.

Jason Peter Todd jacked off when he was angry.

Your brain told you to run, because what you were doing was wrong, an invasion, perverted. But despite your rational thinking, your feet were still glued right in front of his door, ears hypersensitive, straining to pick up every sound you could.

You closed your eyes and breathed in deep. Okay. You recollected yourself. Now it was time to go and maybe release your frustrations in the same way- but in your own bed with your door locked.

But as soon as you made to move, something else held you back that made you lose all your senses.

Another moan coming from Jason’s room, but this time it was your name.

He moaned your name.

You froze on the spot then, morals thrown out the window, you carefully inched closer to the gap between the door, straining your ear even more.

“Fuck, fucking bitch, fuck,” he panted.

Jason wasn’t terribly loud, but it was obvious that he was trying to restrain himself from being too noisy. After all, you all lived in a house full of vigilantes with trained heightened senses.

Now you were scared of being heard, because though you were only listening in, you could feel your breaths getting heavier and heavier, not unlike Jason’s.

And you kept on listening.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out loud, “Teasing people with that- hnngh- fucking skirt. Fuck!”

You accidentally let out a soft giggle, before clamping your palm against your mouth. You wanted to run away in fear that you were heard, but once you ran away, you knew you wouldn’t find it in you to come back and listen.

So you stayed your ground.

“Tight fucking shirt,” he continued, and you knew you were safe.

Huh.

Jason Peter Todd also liked to ramble while he jacked off.

At least now you knew why he hated your outfit so much. Who knew it was because he felt like he was being teased?

You were becoming more amused by the second, because hell- this was the guy who had his walls up so high, the same guy who refused to share anything remotely personal with anyone, and to see him crumble down and fuck his fist-

He let out a long, deep groan- and fuck.

Fuck.

Did the sounds of his cock get even wetter?

You needed to see him.

You decided to get on your hands and knees on the floor, thinking that standing up would cast more shadows and make it a bit more obvious that someone was outside the door listening in. So you crouched and tried to make yourself seem as small as possible.

You pushed the door very very lightly, hoping that the hinges didn’t creak.

Now you had a view of Jason, who was lying down on his back, his dark blue t-shirt riding up to his chest. Your eyes trailed down to the deep V that went down to his body, a small patch of his happy trail, his grey sweatpants hitched down to his knees, and his perfect, thick, swollen cock hard in his fist, glistening wet.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the view, feeling your panties getting soiled by the second.

Have you ever been that horny in your life? Probably not.

Jason was brutally fucking his fist, and fuck, even though the view was less than perfect because you were too scared to push the door open wider, you could see how fucking tight he was gripping his shaft.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

The rustling of his movements, the heavy stuttering breathing, the slick sounds.

You tried to resist, you really did.

But then, he raised his palm to his mouth and fucking spat onto it loudly, fucking filthily before going back down to continue.

That’s it. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You lifted up your skirt and pushed your panties aside, sliding a finger in between your folds and biting your lip so you don’t moan.

So you don’t run inside his room and beg him to take you right then and there.

Your eyes travelled back up to his face and was hardly surprised to see that he didn’t exactly look like he was pleasuring himself.

His eyes were shut tight, his eyebrows stitched together, his expression in an angry scowl, occasionally biting his lower lip, occasionally parted to take in deep breaths, occasionally whispering your name.

He looked furious as he stroked his cock.

“Fucking Christ,” he rasped, “Wanna fuck. Wanna fuck you. Fuck.”

And of course Jason Peter Todd would take the Lord’s name in vain while he had his dick in his hand.

What was wrong with your brain? The man was technically confessing that he wanted to fuck you in depraved growls, for fuck’s sake. Why were you focusing on the stupid little details?

Like how long has it been since he started? Did he immediately take off his pants and start masturbating right after your fight, the minute he slammed the door shut, while you were downstairs wallowing in guilt?

Kinky son of a bitch.

You started rubbing circles on your clit, feeling the shoot of pleasure spread in your body, heightening your heart rate even more.

If he really did jerk off right after your fight, does that mean he does it every time he got angry?

You added a note at the back of your head again: Make Jason Peter Todd angry more often.

Fuck, but didn’t that mean he had been going at it for awhile now? Was he going to come soon?

You resisted a groan that almost escaped your lips at the thought of being able to see him spurt his cum on his washboard abs.

You picked up the pace of your own, matching it to Jason’s.

But your back and knees were getting kind of sore already, so you tried to shift around a bit. In that process, you lost your balance. And to regain your balance, your unoccupied hand went straight for the door.

And accidentally pushed it open, stumbling into his room.

“What the fuck!” you heard him gasp.

You froze on the spot, your hand still down your skirt, making eye contact with Jason who was already standing up, cock tucked back in his sweatpants- though that didn’t make a difference because phew, a hard dick in a pair of grey sweatpants was a sight.

You cleared your head and scrambled back to your feet, heart thumping loudly and face heating up at the embarrassment of being caught.

“Uh- I- uh- I thought of saying sorry,” you panicked, “And uh- I didn’t- I didn’t hear- see! Ididn’tseeanythingsorrybye-”

You turned to run away, to lock yourself up in your room and never ever come out. You didn’t even see Jason cross the room and snatch your wrist, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you.

He had you against the door now, his grip on your wrist tight, his body just inches away from yours and god you wanted to feel his hard on against you.

“I think,” you started, “I think you broke the lock when you slammed the door hard. It’s okay I’m sure Alfred can-”

“Why are your fingers wet?” he asked in a low voice.

“Wha?”

You noticed that the hand he was gripping was the one you were using to touch yourself, and he was gripping it high up to his face.

You gulped.

“I was just- uh- washing!” you rambled, “I was washing my hands and didn’t dry them off. Oopsie daisy.”

You let out a nervous laugh, but then was cut short when Jason tilted his face towards your wrist, his nose touching and breathing onto your skin. He took a deep breath, smelling your hand as he travelled from the fleshy part below your thumb up to your two wet fingers.

You clenched your thighs.

“Washing, were you?” he smirked, his eyes hooded and dark.

“Mhmm,” you nodded furiously.

He closed his eyes and continued smelling your fingers.

What the fuck?

Then, and you admit that a piece of you died a little and went to heaven at that point, he let out a small lick at the tip of your index finger.

And fucking groaned, the kind of groan the reverberated back into your bones, the kind of groan that made you feel everything he was feeling.

Your brain basically short-circuited.

When you thought that he couldn’t get any hotter, and any more embarrassing, he took your whole two fingers into his mouth.

Your jaw dropped.

He started sucking on your fingers, his eyes now opened and staring at you intensely, and fuck you could feel his tongue swirling on your fingers, wet and hot and desperate.

“Jason,” you breathed.

He let your fingers out with a pop, and the released your hand.

“Touch yourself,” he instructed.

And you weren’t going to fucking argue with that.

You hiked your skirt up, pushed your panties aside again, and with the fingers that had just been in his mouth, you started rubbing your clit.

Your mouth fell into a little “O”, and Jason?

Jason just watched.

With his breathing hard, his warm breath fanning across your face, he didn’t even look down to where you were touching. No, he just stared deep into your eyes as you continued.

Then, he rested his forehead against yours and let out a soft moan. You heard rustling again, and you looked down, and saw him fisting his cock near your lower belly, as you kept on going at your clit.

“Oh my god, fuck,” you looked up at him, breaths mingling with each other, tips of your noses brushing against one another, as you both touched yourselves.

“You made me angry, baby,” he purred, his other hand going up to cradle the back of your head.

You watched as his thick biceps flexed and rippled as he jerked his fist.

It was funny to you. Just a few minutes ago, he told you that he would never think of you as his sister, and now here he was calling you baby.

Oh. Oh.

Boy, were you stupid.

“Do you always masturbate when you’re angry?” you whispered.

“Sometimes,” he breathed back.

“I just made a mental reminder to make you angry more,” you told him.

“Hmm?” he smirked, “And why would you do that?”

“So I can spy on you,” you blurted.

Jason chuckled the hottest fucking chuckle you’ve ever heard. “You don’t need to spy on me. All you gotta do is ask.”

“But,” you argued mid-wanking, “That takes the fun out of everything.”

“Oh, really?” he said, taking steps back.

His fist kept on going non-stop while he walked backwards towards his bed, and you didn’t notice it before, but his pants were completely gone.

He walked until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and then he sat down, all the while never stopping his strokes.

“So you think this,” to make a point, he started fucking his cock faster and harder for a bit, “Isn’t fun?”

You didn’t understand how someone could be so hot.

“Okay, fine,” you conceded, leaning back against the door because you were worried your knees were going to go out anytime, “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he scoffed, “Comere.”

“There?” you hesitated, suddenly nervous at his invitation.

Even in the midst of horny bliss, you suddenly remembered that Jason was never close to you. You didn’t know a thing about him, and you never really connected.

“Yeah,” he frowned, his fist stilling, “Unless you don’t want to.”

“No!” you hurriedly said, “I do. God, trust me, I do. But it’s just…”

“But?”

“I always thought you hated me, Jason,” you stopped your fingers as well, standing upright, “I don’t want this to be a one time thing, and then you go back to hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he shook his head in surprise, “I never hated you.”

“Really? Because somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Look,” he sighed, “The reason why I was so mean to you is because I didn’t know how to act around you. And being mean was the only thing I know how to do. But I never hated you. It’s the opposite, in fact.”

“You like me?” you asked, hopeful.

“Sure I do,” he shrugged nonchalantly, but you noticed his ears slowly turning pink.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I never imagined that Jason Peter Todd would tell me he liked me while he was sitting on his bed without any pants,” you giggled.

“You wanna come here or not?” he huffed.

You smiled and walked over to him, stopping right in front of him, between his opened thighs. You looked down into his eyes, blue and fierce, and always so intense. He took off his shirt, so he was there, right there, in all his naked glory.

“Take off your clothes,” he murmured.

You didn’t know what to say back except to just do what he had instructed you to do. So you firstly peeled off your tight baby doll shirt, and then slid down your skirt.

What do you know, you thought you noticed him gulping.

“All of it, sweetheart,” he demanded, “I want to see all of you.”

You nodded, and reached behind to unhook your bra, letting your breasts fall. You saw Jason’s immediate change in expression. His jaw went slack, and was looking at you in awe. You were just going to slip down your panties until-

“Too slow,” he said, and then gripped you by the waist and threw you onto the bed on your back.

He immediately went to attack your breasts, sucking and biting and nipping onto your nipple, pinching the other one with his free hand, squeezing and tugging.

“Jason,” you moaned, his warm tongue drawing circles on your nipples. He travelled further below, leaving a trail of opened mouth kisses on your skin.

And finally he reached the place you wanted him to be at the most, his hot breath hovering over your panties. He proceeded to start licking your folds over them, drenching your already wet panties even more with his mouth.

He continued to mouth at your core, teasing you with occasional nips, but never directly stimulating your clit.

He was good at driving a girl crazy in more ways than one.

“Jason,” you whined, “More.”

“More?” he smirked.

“Yes, stop teasing,” you complained.

He laughed and pulled your panties down swiftly, but he didn’t go back in between your thighs, where you arguably thought he belonged.

He came up to you and kissed you deeply, for the first time. He sucked on your lower lip, playing at the entrance of your mouth with the tip of his tongue, prodding but never really entering.

Unfortunately, he was also doing the same with his cock.

You had your legs spread as wide as they could, presenting yourself to him, yet there he was still teasing you by pushing up his tip against your entrance, but then going to your clit to circle on it, and then brushing down your slick folds to tease you some more.

“Now you know how I feel when you wear those short skirts out,” he growled against your lips, “Fucking cock tease.”

“They weren’t even that short,” you pouted.

“If I can get glimpses of your panties when you bend down, then they’re short,” he argued back, “God, the things you do to me.”

He went to your neck to suck on the delicate skin, no doubt leaving marks to be questioned by everyone in the morning.

“Y-y-you,” you stuttered into a sigh when he started tapping his cock against your clit, “Your arms are nice.”

Stupid, stupid.

He burst into laughter, muffling himself using the crook of your neck.

“My arms are nice?”

“Yeah, I want you to choke hold me with them.”

He suddenly met your eyes, surprised.

“What?” you asked.

“Holy fuck,” he simply muttered, and then crashed his lips into yours again, this time shoving his whole tongue inside to taste you.

And thank God, he did the same with his cock.

He slowly pushed in at your entrance, stretching you deliciously apart.

The both of you groaned in unison, finally able to really feel each other.

His pace was slow, but it soon build, all the while you were thrashing about, trying to grip onto something, because his cock had filled you up so fucking perfectly, you knew you were going to feel it for days after.

“Fuck, Jason,” you closed your eyes tight.

“Yeah, baby?” he panted in your ear, “You like my cock in your pussy?”

“Yes,” you whispered, unable to voice out more in fear of being incoherent.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned out loud, his pace increasing even more, “Feel so good around my cock, baby.”

You only heard his dirty, sexy voice, the wet sounds amplifying with every thrust, his stuttered laboured breathing and his sharp intakes of breaths, and fuck that was enough to tip you over the edge.

“Jason,” you moaned, unable to say anything else.

“Take my cock, sweetheart,” he gasped, “Fuck, so much better than I imagined.”

He gripped both your thighs in each of his hands, and then pushed them back towards you, so he could fuck you at a better angle, a better pace.

And he pummeled into your pussy, fucking you into the goddamn mattress as you did nothing but cry and whine and whimper and moaned, his cock hitting every pleasure spot inside you.

You felt yourself climbing, going higher and higher into ecstasy with every “fuck” coming from Jason, every loud groan you knew someone in the house would hear, every breath he took that was becoming more irregular.

“You want to come, sweetheart?” he asked, “I can feel you getting tighter, fuck.”

You nodded furiously, trying so much to reach that high.

Then, he leaned in, and whispered in your ear with the lowest, huskiest, desperate voice you’ve ever heard.

“Too fucking bad.”

He stopped his motions altogether.

Your eyes shot open.

“What?” you nearly shouted, “Jason!”

“You made me angry, didn’t you,” he gave you a shit eating grin, “Did you really think I was going to help you get off after that?”

“But-but-” you started, “I already said sorry!”

“Sorry’s not enough, baby,” he tutted, “I want you to beg for it.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he raised an eyebrow, “Beg.”

Thrust.

“For.”

Thrust.

“This.”

Thrust.

“Cock.”

Fuck, you were going absolutely insane.

“Jason,” you whined, “Jason, please. Please, I need your cock, Jason. I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You threw away every single dignity you had.

Hey, the man’s got a good cock.

“Why should I fuck a girl who likes to piss me off?” he growled, jaw clenched.

“Because, sir,” you tested. “I promise to be good next time. And if I’m not, then…”

You trailed off.

“Then?” he prompted.

“Then you can punish me,” you finished.

“Fuck,” he started fucking you again, “Fine.”

That didn’t take much. Jason obviously had a thing for begging and being called sir.

This time, he pounded into you with a force that knocked your breath out, and he continued to do so until you were climbing again.

And this time, he didn’t stop.

“Baby,” he rasped, “Baby, come with me.”

“Jason.”

You felt his thrusts getting faster and faster, though more sloppy and irregular, desperate to chase his own orgasm.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he gasped, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You felt it, the moment Jason let go, you reached your peak, feeling yourself sliding into the realm of pure pleasure as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, some reaching your breasts, some hitting your fucking chin. Then, he collapsed next to you, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Fuck,” he agreed.

The both of you burst into laughter, the first laughter you ever shared together.

And you knew from then on, it was okay if he didn’t see you as his sister, because you most definitely could not see him as your brother- and you realised you never did.

You were just so desperate to get close to him that you’d use any excuse you could find.

But you’ve successfully closed the gap between you and Jason Peter Todd, and you knew you were currently witnessing his walls slowly crumbling down, bit by bit, right in front of you.

[shmowlwrites]

(LATE) NaNoWriMo Day 6

“Something where after Lila is exposed Alya finds out Adrien knew Lila lied because Ladybug told him and so Alya blames him because now her blog is ruined. But instead of taking it he tells her he only found out hours after Alya posted it and it's Alya's responsibility to fact check stuff for the Ladyblog. Not his.”

1028 words hell yeah! 

This was interesting to do because I still really don’t like Adrien, but had to do a majority of the piece in his point of view. I’m pretty sure the prompter wanted me to paint Adrien in a good light, but that’s kind of impossible to do for me.

Alya and Adrien salt! Lila is already exposed before the fic begins. 

The entire past week had been a blur of chaos, that much Adrien could give it. Thank kwami this week was seeming to start on a better foot. Marinette had rudely broken up a few of Lila’s lies and Alya had gotten in a big nasty fight with her over it. The next day, after Marinette called Lila out on the song Jagged Stone wrote for her by trying to find it, Marinette had gotten sent to the principal’s office for “disturbing the peace.” Sabine Cheng was at the school in 5 minutes to defend her daughter. The next day, Penny Rolling and Mrs. Rossi appeared. Mrs. Rossi was the least pleased person Adrien had ever seen and that was saying something since he lived with his father. 

Then, there, Lila had been stripped of everything she had built about herself in front of the entire class. Adrien had confronted Marinette on it, but she claimed all she had done was “tell Uncle Jagged about this girl claiming he wrote a song about her.” Penny Rolling was there for a lawsuit on defamation of character. The Rossis were leaving Paris. 

Nobody other than him had bothered Marinette and he had found it strange. Lila was gone, the strain on everybody’s friendships was gone! Why weren’t they happy anymore? Why did they still avoid Marinette? 

But back to the present, it was a nice, sunny day and Adrien found himself looking forward to his first photoshoot without Lila. Sure, there wasn’t anything fun about photoshoots, but one without Lila was great. He was still waiting for the car when he caught sight of Alya storming towards him. He steeled his body, prepared to apologize for existing because of whatever Alya was angry about.

“You knew?!” She screeched, loud enough for people on the other side of the busy street to turn their heads. 

“Knew?” Adrien’s forehead scrunched. 

“You knew Lila had been lying the entire time?” Alya seethed, hands gripping the steel railing like a lifeline to ground herself. 

“I did,” Adrien tilted his head, shrinking away.

“You knew she was lying, you watched Marinette try to warn us about it, you watched me post interviews of her lies on my blog… AND YOU DID NOTHING!” Alya spat. She was shaking by now. 

Adrien blinked. Now, when she said it like that, what he did sounded wrong. “Alya, all I did was try to keep the peace…”

“Keep the peace?” Alya’s voice was shrill with emotion as she tried to keep herself from screaming again. “Keep the peace? You left Marinette to fend for herself while Lila lied about her very character! You let us believe that! You watched us degrade her. You watched me destroy my own career. There was no peace in the beginning!”

“Hey now,” Adrien jerked his head. “If I had said something and tried to follow Marinette’s example, Lila would have gotten upset. She would have gotten Akumatized. And where would we be but be the cause of Lila getting Akumatized? What Lila did was bad, but calling her out on it would’ve been worse. And don’t blame me for your own ignorance. If you had fact checked like a real reporter, you would’ve known.” Adrien tilted his head up, putting on a confident persona. He wasn’t going to let Alya push him down. “I’m not the blogger here. It’s not my job to tell everyone the facts and to give the newest scoop. Honestly, it’s not even my fault you guys all fell for her lies. If Marinette knew from the beginning, why didn’t you?” Adrien tilted his head. 

Alya didn’t get to reply. The car honked and Adrien had to go. 

Alya was seething. How dare he act like nothing was his fault? They would’ve all still been Lila’s friend even if the truth had come out… before she started defaming Marinette’s character. They had been trying to figure out how to apologize to the girl and show that they meant it for the past couple of days and Adrien was acting all happy-go-lucky, oh, everything’s good and fine! 

True, he was right about her not doing her job. But if anything, this experience had opened her eyes about the true character of people in the real world. She wasn��t going to make the same mistake twice. She had explained the whole situation in a post on her blog before taking down all interviews with Lila in them and had checked every lie the girl had said. Some things had been the stretching of the truth of someone else’s life, and Alya had given them the credit they deserved. She started posting sources to any project she did, she started digging into the dirt to find the seeds of truth. She was doing the job of a good reporter now. 

What had Adrien done but stand aside and look pretty? What had he done but snuff the truth? And with what Marinette had told her after Alya’s 30 minute long apology and promises she swore upon her life to keep… Adrien had even dismissed Marinette trying to stop a girl who had threatened her. Marinette had been about to tell him about it, but all he had said was to stay quiet, she’ll get better. Bad people don’t become good because the good people expose them. 

The class didn’t know what to do with Adrien. Marinette set up a good point that he had a poor parental influence and probably didn’t understand proper social etiquette, something Chloe stood behind. Probably because she still loved her childhood friend too much to do the other option.

Ivan wanted to snub him. He enabled Lila, helped her blind them from the truth. They didn’t need somebody who did that. A good portion of the class agreed.

Adrien came back to class the next day to a glare from Alya, a lecture from Nino about getting help and out of the Agreste house, and Marinette had tried to do something but he had avoided her. He was still waiting for her apology for exposing Lila like that. Otherwise… he noticed nobody tried to make a notion to notice he existed. He wondered what that was about.

[angryinternetduck]

fireworks

a little under 2.5k on fireworks and wine.  Harry Styles x reader.  warnings: none I can think of?  lol this was supposed to be in a fic writing challenge, but... I didn't take the prompt (fireworks) soon enough. So. Uh. Whoopsidaisies oh AND it's a reader insert ('cause of the challenge lol) so uh hope I didn't botch that. I've never done one of these before... enjoy :)

You met Harry Styles at a New Year’s Eve party. 

Your boyfriend at the time had had some sort of connection, and you’d gotten into the party, but you were borderline regretting the whole idea because now you were bored. You were drinking some sort of punch, lurking behind your boyfriend as he somehow kept engrossed in one of the most boring conversations you’d ever eavesdropped on. 

It was after you tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder to tell him you were getting more punch, after he waved you off and dove back into the conversation, and when you’d made it to the punch table that he’d approached you. 

He’d startled you, coming up behind you and saying, “Good punch, hm?” just a little softer than normal, and you gasped. “Sorry,” he said, smiling a bit, and you couldn’t help but smile back, because who could refuse those gorgeous dimples? 

“‘s okay,” you replied, and he said, “Enjoying the party?” 

“Yup,” you lied, leaning against the punch table. 

“You’re terribly unconvincing, uh…” He looked at you expectantly, and you shifted your cup to your left hand to hold out your other for a handshake. You told him your name, and he shook your hand as he said, “Harry.” 

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” you said, and he nodded. “Ditto. What’s wrong with the party, then?” You smiled, shaking your head, and told him, “It’s not that bad. I’m just a little tired, but, uh… you can’t exactly leave a New Year’s party before midnight, huh?” 

“You’re right,” Harry said, “that would be scandalous.” 

“Absolutely,” you agreed. There was a beat of silence, and then he asked, “So, er - how’s the punch? Reckon I should get some?” You smiled a bit. “I reckon you should.” He raised a brow. “Are you mocking me?” he said, pouring some punch into a cup.

“Handsome and quick,” you said, and he grinned. “Funny, too,” he said, “and proper humble. ‘m quite the catch.” You nodded, looking over at where your boyfriend was, and replied, “Me too.” Harry grinned. “See we share the humble trait, hm?” 

You bit back a laugh despite yourself and, not quite unreluctantly, went on, “Only, uh… I’m already caught. That’s my boyfriend, over there, and I should probably get back…” Harry followed your line of sight, and then nodded. “Right,” he said. “Erm - nice meeting you.” 

“Yeah,” you said back, giving him a smile. “Ditto.” 

*****

The ball dropped, and you kissed your boyfriend. 

The fireworks started, and you held his hand. 

Everybody was cheering, and you were scanning the crowd. 

The fireworks died down, and you found who you were looking for. 

Your boyfriend kissed your cheek, but you were smiling at Harry. 

*****

You and your boyfriend didn’t work out, but it wasn’t a messy breakup; you stayed friends. So when some manager asked for your number from him because he was looking for an in in your industry, he gave it over, because he was your friend. 

In fact, you stayed such good friends that, when Harry Styles texted you and admitted he wasn’t looking for an in in your industry but rather a date, you told your ex and thanked him for handing over the number.

*****

The date went well. 

But not well enough. 

He didn’t kiss you at the end of the night. 

And you didn’t kiss him at the end of the second night. 

And neither of you kissed the other at the end of the third night. 

So lovers? No. 

But friends? Absolutely! 

*****

“You,” you declared, already holding a glass of wine, “look like shit.” 

“And you,” Harry replied, “started without me.” 

“Sue me,” you muttered. “You were twenty minutes late.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow, lifting a half empty bottle of wine. “Started this twenty minutes ago, did you?” You pursed your lips, grabbing it from him and filling up your already over half way filled glass. “‘s your fault for being late. You’ve got to wash your glass, by the way.” 

Harry scoffed, grabbing it from the coffee table. “I left this here last week.” 

“Exactly,” you said. “Shoulda washed it.” 

“Wasn’t in the room, love. Out of mind, out of sight.”

You giggled. “You started without me too.” 

“Sod off,” Harry mumbled, not bothering to rinse his glass before filling it. 

“Had a date?” 

“‘f you can even call it that,” Harry said. 

“Ooh, that bad, huh?” 

“Worse. Her name was Gertrude. She took me to Spasso’s.” 

“Yikes,” you breathed. 

“And,” Harry went on, gesturing for you to follow him as he walked into the kitchen, “she was going on and on about rom coms, yeah? Like classics and shit. And then - and then” - he turned around, catching your eye for drama - “she goes I think my favorite is To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re too haughty. It’s really not that bad.” 

Harry huffed, ducking his head into the refrigerator. “Oh, please. ‘s a tragedy. And it wouldn’t have been that bad, but after she said classics, that rubbish is just -” He paused, and reappeared, and said, “Darling, I’m not seeing any wine.” 

“Must be blind, then,” you said, nudging him aside. But then you looked, and your fridge was basically empty, and there were no bottles of wine patiently waiting for you. “It was - I had two…” You faded off, turning to look at him sheepishly. “Uh… Yeah, so I may have just finished the last bottle?” Harry groaned, rolling his head back dramatically. 

“Christ, woman, I come here once a week for an escape, and you can’t even manage to have a bottle of wine for me?” he asked in a whine. “The only time I drink sophisticatedly, the only time I can really talk, the only -” 

“Shush,” you said, putting a finger over his lips. “Shush shush shush. I’ve got whiskey.” 

Harry’s brows jumped. “Ooh.” 

You nodded at the cupboard. “Grab glasses.” 

Harry grinned, leaning in. “Love it when you tell me what to do.” 

You rolled your eyes, pushing him off you, and muttered, “You’re hammered already and here I am giving you more alcohol. Ridiculous.” Harry scoffed. “Am not!” You raised an eyebrow, pouring him a glass. “Whatever you say, Styles,” you said. 

“Right then, Miss Sober, tell me about your week, hm?” Harry asked, and you sighed, collapsing on the couch. Harry sat next to you, sliding an arm around your shoulders. You sighed, again, and swirled your whiskey around in its glass. “Well… I had another date with Kyle…” 

Harry snickered. “Kyle the cardigan guy?” 

You rolled your eyes. “He wore it once.”

“It was olive, love,” Harry said. “Olive.” 

“It was a poor fashion choice, Styles, shut your mouth,” you said back. “Happens to all of us. Want to reminisce your outfit at my birthday party?” Harry groaned, tipping back the last of his whiskey. “I was pissed, darling,” he insisted. “The lights were off. Can Mr. Cardigan say the same?” 

“He’s a nice guy, Styles.” 

“He likes Nickelback.” 

You scoffed. “You like Nickelback!” 

“Not anymore!” 

“You’re impossible,” you sighed, reaching to refill your glass. 

“Impossibly wonderful, darling.” 

“Conceited ass,” you said under your breath. “Ask me about my week, and then nitpick every little thing I say.” Harry rolled his eyes. “So dramatic, you are. Tell me something good and I’ll react appropriately!” 

“Ooh,” you giggled, “big words from the drunk.” 

“Takes one to know one, love.” 

“Love,” you echoed dreamily. “Ever been in love, Styles?” 

“F*ck’s sake, now you’re really pissed,” Harry laughed. 

“Took you this long to figure that out, huh?” 

“Pardon if ‘m a bit slow, ‘m a bit tipsy from the lack of wine ‘round here.” 

You scoffed. “Lack of wine, he says, as if it’s my fault.” 

“Oh, but it is, love - you started without me.” 

“There it is again!” you said. “Love. You’re too good at this dodging questions thing.”

Harry smirked at you over his glass. ���What dodging questions thing?” 

“Oh, shush. Have you? Have you ever been in love?” 

A beat of silence, and you were almost convinced he’d answer seriously, and then he smiled at you and said, “My mummy.” You rolled your eyes. “No, Styles,” you said exasperatedly, “I mean romantic love. Butterflies in your tummy romantic love. Every second thought about them love. Warm and fuzzy feelings love.” You giggled. “Kissy love.” 

He paused for a second, and you looked up. “Take your time,” you giggled, and then Harry flushed, shaking his head. “Just thinking ‘bout your vocab, hm? Tummy, kissy - didn’t know I was drinking with a four year old.” 

“I hate you,” you sighed contentedly. 

“Hate you too, love.” 

“Can’t call me love if you won’t answer the question.” 

“Oh, my darling dear, my honey pot, my precious rose petal, my -” 

You groaned. “I’ll put on To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, Styles, swear to God.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Harry seethed. 

“You’re full of yourself.” 

“Said that already, love.” 

“Different wording,” you giggled. “I can be creative.” 

“Creative, my ass,” Harry murmured. 

You whined, slapping him on the chest. “You’re rude.” 

“Got any other adjectives?” Harry asked. “Prove your creativity, hm?”  

“Rude, jackass, bastard,” you said, and then took a sip of your whiskey as you mumbled nonsense. Harry grinned. “Nice try, love,” he said, and you pouted. “I’m drunk,” you insisted, draining your glass. 

“Clearly.” 

There was a beat of comfortable silence, and you leaned forward to pour more whiskey into your glass. “Whoopsidaisies,” you murmured as your hand slipped and some sloshed onto the table. You leaned back, and took a sip, and then realized Harry was staring at you. 

“What?” 

“Did - did you just say whoopsidaisies?” 

You giggled. “Maybe.” 

“You did not just say whoopsidaisies.” 

You cleared your throat, lowering your voice a bit. “I don't - I don’t think so,” you replied in a British accent. “No one says whoopsidaisies do they? Unless they're…” Harry grinned, catching on. “There is no unless,” he said, taking up a slightly higher pitched American accent. “No one has said whoopsidaisies for fifty years and even then it was only little girls with blonde ringlets.” 

You laughed, shaking your head and leaning into him. “What if I want to be a little girl with blonde ringlets, huh?” Harry tsked, twirling a piece of your hair around his fingers. “You’re going off script.” 

“Can you imagine Hugh Grant with blond ringlets?” you giggled. 

“They’d go well with his blue eyes.” 

You sighed. “Anything goes well with Hugh Grant’s blue eyes.” 

“What about my blue eyes?” 

“They go wonderfully with your blond hair and freckles.” 

“Why, thank you. I always thought the blue stripe in my hair was a bit much.” 

“No, no, it matches your eyes.” You paused, looking up at him, and said, “Should do it.” 

“Should do what?” 

“Dye your hair.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Blue?” 

You grinned. “Pink.” 

“Can you imagine,” Harry murmured. 

A beat of silence, and then you sat up and exclaimed, “Dick!” 

Harry’s brows jumped. “‘ve got one, yes,” he said, and you shook your head, pressing a finger against his chest in an accusatory way. “No,” you said, “that’s another adjective. To describe you.” You grinned. “You are a dick.” 

“Very clever,” Harry told you. 

Another second of silence. A car honked outside, and then a dog barked, and then Harry looked at his watch. “Erm - darling, I know we said we weren’t going to say anything about your birthday, but -” 

“Oh, no,” you muttered, downing your glass. 

“I might have a little surprise for you?” 

“H, I thought we agreed -” 

Harry grinned, leaning forward and taking your hands. “I know, I know we agreed, but I couldn’t help it, because this lad I know from secondary school -” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Not important. The point is, the opportunity was too good to pass. Don’t be mad.” 

You huff. “Just get on with it.” 

“Wicked,” Harry said, and he stood up, pulling you towards the balcony. 

“Where are we -” 

“Shush,” Harry interrupted. You’d arrived on your balcony, and Harry was positively buzzing with excitement. “What am I looking at, again?” you asked, and Harry shushed you again, checking his watch. “Any minute, now…” 

He settled next to you, and you felt his hands on your shoulders, and then - 

Fireworks exploded across the sky. Sparks of color filled the city skyline, popping and fizzing out before another set went off. They seemed to last for ages, each burst more dazzling than the last, until the last one sputtered out with a cheerful pop, leaving you in breathless awe. 

Vaguely, you realized the pleasant weight of Harry’s hands on your shoulders had disappeared, and you turned around to see him lowering his fingers from his ears. He was grinning, though, looking absolutely ecstatic. 

“You hate fireworks,” you breathed. 

Harry laughed, shaking his head and pulling you into a hug. “Happy birthday, love.” 

“Oh, H,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “Thank you.” 

You pulled away first, keeping him close, and for the first time in your four years’ worth of friendship, you had the urge to kiss him. And, from the way his gaze kept slipping to your lips, you guessed you weren’t the only one feeling that urge. 

“Harry?” you whispered, feeling yourself lean in. 

“Hm.” 

“Can I -?” 

“Please,” he murmured, and he closed the distance, and you were kissing Harry Styles. 

He was warm, and soft, and tasted slightly of vanilla, but mostly of whiskey, and just a hint of mint. He was smiling, just a bit, against your lips, and you couldn’t help but revel and smile back at how perfectly you fit together. Your lips fit like puzzle pieces, your hands feeling perfectly natural on his chest, his hand warm on your cheek. 

He pulled away much too soon, and despite the desperate need for air, you felt yourself tipping forward to just get a little more, just a few more seconds, just a few moments more of that happy bliss he’d given you. 

“He’s a moron,” Harry said, and you blinked, almost in a haze, before realizing that fireworks were going off again, and you giggled, leaning against his chest. “It was supposed to be one burst,” he told you, and you grinned, looking up at him. “They’re beautiful.” 

“I know,” he murmured, and he kissed you. 

*****

Two years later, neither Kyle the Cardigan guy nor Gertrude the Spasso’s girl was invited to the wedding. 

You didn’t think they’d mind. 

The wedding was on the first day of summer, on the summer solstice. 

It was a beautiful day, and a beautiful wedding. 

Harry still didn’t like fireworks. 

He got them anyway, and as they exploded, he kissed his bride. 

*****

hope you liked it!!! if you did, a reblog and some feedback would be v much appreciated 💜 thanks for reading!!!!

masterlist | ask

[chibbybish]

Breaking Point (Juice x Reader)

Part 1

TW: bullying

[requested by: @kchavez666]

[word count: 1279]

[reading time: 00:10:13]

New job, same old town, new life.

You weren't a fan of small towns, but cars and motorcycles were always your thing. Also, you really liked California, but being born in a small town you just had to save some money and go live the big city dream you always had.

Your aunt, Gemma, had offered you a job at Teller-Morrow to help you achieve your dream of leaving Charming for good. As a great addition to that, she was married to the president of the motorcycle club, Sons Of Anarchy. That was exciting, and as a young adult, you were, of course, looking forward to see what that's like.

Monday morning, 8:30, you had just arrived at Teller-Morrow. The gates were opened, so you got in, looking for your aunt.

"Half an hour late!" You heard her voice. You saw her coming towards you, smiling, opening her arms to hug you.

"Aunt Gemma!" You sang and hugged her.

"How are you sweetheart?" She asked after hugging you for a few seconds.

"I'm alright. I miss the city." You said, honestly.

"I get it." She smiled. "So, how was college?" She asked afterwards.

"Pretty difficult. But I met a lot of interesting people there!" You answered her question and started walking beside her.

"Any boyfriends?" Your aunt laughed.

"Just one. We dated for a year or so."

-Men, darling. Don't worry about them.

From the distance you saw your cousin Jax running towards you.

"It's y/n! It's y/n!" He beamed and violently hugged you.

"Hi there, dumbass." You hugged him back as he lifted you up. "I missed you so much!" You added.

"Welcome home." Clay came next.

"Hey there, uncle Clay." You smiled politely.

"My god, you are a fully grown woman now, aren't you?" He praised you.

"Aw, that's so nice of you!"

-It's equally nice that you're here to give us a hand with all this paperwork.

-I have been looking forward to it, actually.

-How come?

-Well, you're the president of Sons Of Anarchy uncle Clay!

Clay laughed after what you said.

"Oh so that's why you're excited." Jax laughed.

The three of you, walked towards Gemma's office.

She was already there, taking her jacket and car keys.

"I really do need a break." She exhaled. "It'd be nice if you, men of my life, showed my niece around and tell her what she has to do." She added and kissed your forehead.

"Welcome to the jungle baby. Good luck working with all that testosterone around here." She smiled and left the office.

"See you around aunt Gemma." You said before she got into her car.

"Okay so, paperwork. You note down which cars come in, which cars leave, you take their owners' keys and give them back once the repair over. Jax will explain all the rest." Clay explained. "Whatever you need, don't hesitate to come ask anyone available." He patted your back and left you alone with Jax.

"Want me to show you around, so you can meet the rest of the guys?" Your cousin asked.

"Sounds great." You smiled.

The two of you walked out of Gemma's office and started a small tour around Teller-Morrow.

"Guys, let me introduce to my cousin, y/n!" Jax yelled and a bunch of men gathered around the two of you.

"Y/n, this is Opie, Tig, Chibs, Happy, Bobby, Piney, Half-sack and Juice." Jax started introducing you to all of them, but the last one caught your attention. He had those amazing facial characteristics that were hard to ignore.

"Nice to meet you y/n!" One of them, Tig, said.

"I hope you don't feel uncomfortable with so many men around." Opie laughed.

"Oh, no, it's totally fine. Back in college I had three roommates, all of them were boys." You explained shyly.

"Sounds like someone had a lot of fun in college, huh." Chibs laughed.

"Well, not really." You said, uncomfortable.

Everybody greeted you and got back to work.

That boy, Juice, hadn't talk at all, and now you were curious about him.

"They can be really rude sometimes." Jax patted your back.

"Oh, no. I think they're all really nice." You assured him. You wanted to ask about Juice but decided to wait a little before you made any moves.

The day went by pretty okay and, by the afternoon, you had taken care of a lot of paper work.

"Y/n?" Opie knocked on the office door.

"Yeah?" You lifted your head to look at him.

"If you need a break you can always take one." He smiled. "You've been working non-stop for hours."

-You are right. I probably need a break.

You sighed and stood up, feeling your legs tired and your head sore.

Opie led you inside the clubhouse, where everyone was having their lunch break.

"Hello there!" Jax greeted you and kissed your cheek.

"Someone looks really tired." Chibs noticed.

"Yeah, there was a lot of work that had to be done." You smiled, tiringly.

You noticed Juice was sitting far from everyone else, in a corner.

"What happened to him?" Opie asked Jax.

"Not sure. He was fine this morning." Jax replied, looking at Juice.

Bobby left a plate full of food in front of you.

"There you go, miss." He said.

"I'm starving!" You exclaimed and started eating."Thank you Bobby." You spoke with your mouth full.

You'd still look at Juice randomly, not being able to fully focus on anything else.

After finishing with your lunch, you had the bright idea of talking to him.

You stood up and approached him.

"Hello." You smiled.

"What do you want?" He growled, leaving you speechless.

He seemed quite nervous and bothered.

"I was just wondering why won't you come sit with the rest of us." You question, feeling afraid of his reaction.

"Doesn't matter. I'm done with my break." He stood up and left the clubhouse, without even turning to look at you.

One by one, your little insecurities crawled on your neck, creating a tight knot that gave you a hard time breathing.

What did I do? You asked yourself.

You went back to your sit. None seemed to notice what has happened, instead everyone was loud and drunk, singing songs and talking about this and that.

It felt great being around them, but how Juice treated you was still bothering you. You felt a great weight on your shoulders putting you down.

"Everything okay?" You realised that Chibs was talking to you.

"Of course. I'm just a little tired." You smiled politely, praying that he'd leave you alone, because you already were on the verge of crying.

Little things like people making fun of your t shirt, or talking to you coldly would always make you feel bad.

After a while, Jax offered to give you a ride home. As you were exiting the clubhouse, Juice was going in, causing you two to bump into each other.

"Watch were you're going, for God's sake." He yelled, angrily, after realising what had happened.

"I'm really sorry." You apologized, frightened of his temper.

"I don't need an apology. Just leave." He seethed.

"What's your problem?" You asked, annoyed.

"You are my problem. Get out of my way." He slightly pushed you aside and got into the clubhouse, leaving you speechless once again.

This whole thing reminded you of how much you went through during school.

Boys would treat you like shit, they would point out all your insecurities, causing you to have anxiety and depression from a very young age.

"Ready to leave, y/n?" Jax got out and stood next to you.

"Yeah, sure." You smiled, ignoring all the bad thoughts and memories.

[thorinthehottotty]

Imagine fighting with Thorin at Kíli and Tauriel's wedding and it leads to him finally getting to confess...

Really long and I don't know how to do the hyperlink thing to make it short...

Warnings: Angst, NSFW, no editing, rushed ending but I might make a part two!

Length... Too long.

"Elvish weddings are nothing like this," Tauriel admits, eyes large but the smile evident on her face. Your friend all too happy to be here, dwarvishly married to her prince. The sap currently being paraided in the middle of the hall, a beaming smile on his young face.

"No? What are they like? No dancing?"

"Oh, there is dancing, but not so lively." Smiling, you both watch as everyone celebrates the groom.

"What about human weddings?" You glance over to see the King Under the Mountain with the whispers of a smile on his face. He stands behind you both.

"Nothing compares to the liveliness of the dwarves, your highness." Despite the pain of seeing him now, smiling upon you like nothing had changed, you relaxed at his smile. A rare and beautiful occurance.

You bite your lip and turn from him, fighting the tightness of your voice. Balin had mislead you enough in regards of your feelings with the king. From the very beginning he stole your heart. You were just a common human woman, not a dwarven nobel. The old damn dwarf lead you to believe you had a chance to win the king's affections all along the trip, and oh, did you try.

Ever since Beorn's home when Thorin snapped at you about acting like a silly little girl with a crush destracting him, you felt a growing bitterness. You accepted his feelings (or lack there of) and stepped back, much to the displeasure of the company. The rejection stung, but you would move on.

Yes, you thought, there was always Bard.

You flinch at the thought. He was caring and sweet and he had told you that you were beautiful tonight. A slight flirtation to his smile when he'd said it.

"There is no need for formalities between us, Y/N." The rumble of his voice loses the sound of his smile. You don't spare him a glance, feeling just the slightest twinge of guilt as you answer coldly.

"I'd prefer the formalities, your highness." You tell him, tilting your chin up. In the corner of your eye, you see Tauriel blink in surprise.

You didn't start out as cold. No, at first you were still very sweet. You understood and respected that he had his own feelings. You put aside your hurt at his tactless rejection to put the quest first. And once you were in laketown, he was anxious and happy you'd all made it so far.

The butting of heads began there, when his hard-headed self exposed them all. Of course he was protective of you when Alfrid and the Master seemed to eye you with interest, but he wasn't the only one. The whole company always had your back. And he was awfully sour when he walked in on you and Bard talking of his children. It was just him telling funny stories of them. Then he proceeded to make an ass out of himself (essentially grumbling about how you couldn't put yourself past your silly crushes).

You'd snapped at him their, causing a bigger rift.

Then came that awful dragon sickness. (You didn't even want to think of the awful things he'd done in his madness).

He'd managed to break himself out of the damn madness just in time to nearly kill himself during the massive battle. If it hadn't been for you blowing in from nowhere to drive a blade into Azog's side. It was a last ditch effort for an archer, such as yourself. But with a broken bow, you were left with only the blade on your hip. You'd gained a new scar, where you'd effectively been run through with his blade. It was low, jutting just inside your hip, knicking the bone.

The king, with a mighty roar, decapitated the pale orc and un-shishkabobed you to drape you dramatically on the ice.

"You fucking idiot," you muttered before losing consiousness. When you woke you were banadaged and warned it may have impacted your ability to birth children but it didn't matter, not when Thorin wasn't in the room. Not when he apologized for accusing you of getting cozy with Bard. Bitterness swelled in you, the more you both eased into life in Erebor.

You just couldn't stop yourself from being bitter when he hovered like his own guilty concious. Child bearing was a big deal for dwarves, and he'd rendered you without at a young age for a woman. It was getting to the point that his sappy looks just enraged you. Two years in Erebor. Two and a half since he rejected you, yet he followed you like a lost puppy.

Perhaps it was just because it reminded you that you were still in love with him.

"Thank you for hosting us for this event, your majesty." Tauriel tried to ease the tenseness filling the air.

"My pleasure, Tauriel. You look lovely." He offered and she beamed. Your hand tightened on the goblet when you heard the last part. She did. That wasn't the issue with it.

"Thank you," she smiled warmly at him.

"I believe it is time for your first dance with your husband. May I escort you?" She graces him and he leads her away. Someone else slips into the seat next to you.

You don't bother to look. "That sour face is going to ruin all my hard work." You glance over at Princess Dís, her face stern. She arches an eyebrow as you sigh.

"Sorry. I know you worked hard on it." She had slaved for several hours, making you stunning. She really was an expert when it came to hair. She had put up so many intricate braids, you'd never felt more beautiful until Thorin stalked right past you with barely a glance. Even after these years, you still desperately craved his approval. But you supposed it was better this way.

"I even picked out your dress! Perfect for dancing with anyone who wants to ask."

"No one wants to ask a barren human girl to dance." You reply, gazing down at the table cloth.

"Is that what this is about?" She hums softly, leaning closer. You meet her tender gaze. "Not every dwarrow or man wants that." You don't stop the scoff exiting your lips and you raise the wine to your lips.

"Why'd you put me in his colors?" You demand, but can't muster the same bitterness as before. She didn't know about your feelings (and Thorin's lack of them) since you'd fobidden any of the company from speaking of them. The navy dress had gold stitching and was wasted by your foul mood.

"You'd be good for him, if you could push past the bitterness you hold for him." It makes your face crumble in anger. You hold your tongue, not wanting to snap at her for not understanding.

"Forgive me, Princess. I must excuse myself from this coversation." You say tensely, pushing away from table. Good timing, too, Thorin is making his way over, again. His eyes fall over your figure. You glower.

"He's a bit trying, but he's not a bad dwarf." She offers.

"No. He's great." You hiss, standing. "But I don't want his pity love." You snap, moving toward the food. Maybe some of Bombur's sweets would help soften you.

"Y/N, would you like company?" You grit your teeth, meeting his eye with a furious expression.

"No thank you, your majesty." The dress flows behind you as you move away from the siblings, feeling the bitterness swell in you, stemming from somewhere cold.

Midmouthful of chocolate you feel a presence behind you. Turning, you find King Bard smiling warmly at you. "Good evening, Lady Y/N."

"Bard," you hum when you swallow. "Where are your kids?" You ask.

"Looking for more sweetrolls it would seem. It's been a beautiful ceremony." He offers you a gentle smile. "I'm about to step to the balacony, care to join me?" You hesitantly glance at his extended elbow.

"That... Sounds delightful you," you respond. Eyes catching the glare Thorin is throwing your way. You make your way despite the sinking in your gut. You're not doing anything wrong.

The cool winter air feels nice on your heated skin. It's calm for a long time, no words exchanged as you both gaze down on the land below the mountain. "Can I ask you something, Bard?"

A wave of emotion fills you, heartbreak always fresh. The tears are spilling down your cheeks by the time he looks at you. Concern fills his face.

"Go ahead."

"Does heartbreak ever get easier?" You ask him, voice cracking. "I'm trying to move on, but I can't."

His face crumbles into understanding. He gently places a hand on your shoulder. "Thorin, yes?" You drop your head into your hands in defeat. "I just... I don't understand why you're so cold to him now. I could see how much you loved him when I met you. He obviously cares for you."

"He feels guilty. He thinks he's torn my whole life away from me. I don't want his pity. I wanted his love, even just a bit of it." You sink down onto the bench by the wall. "Now... now I just wish I could move on so he can be free of the new guilt I've given him." Bard is quiet, even when he turns his back to the wall and leans. You miss the way he straightens quickly.

"Well, at least I know why you've been avoiding me so." You jerk up, on your feet as Thorin approaches. You glower at him.

"Eavesdropping? Really?" You gasp.

"King Bard, if you would give us a moment, I do believe your son is asking for you." Bard nods politely before slipping back inside. You try to follow but Thorin cuts you off.

"Pardon," you hiss through your teeth.

"My pity love?" He demands back, stepping closer. You're stunned by his seething. "I stole away your livelihood, I took-"

"You stole nothing from me, you prick!" You snarl back, stepping back and nearly trip onto the bench when he follow you. "You didn't force me to take that blade! It didn't used to bother me. What do I care if I don't push out babies!"

"But it bothers you now!"

"Yes, because you never stop looking at me like my life is over!" You cry loudly, shoving on his chest. "There is more to me then my ability to bare and raise children!"

He grasps your face tightly in his hands, not caring that they're wet with tears and and probably makeup. "There is so much more to you than that," he agrees, much softer now, and his eyes soften too.

"I fought hard!"

"You did."

"I gave you your space when you asked for it! When you made if very clear how you felt!"

"And moved onto Bard," he growls.

"What do you expect me to do when the one I love tells me to leave him be and not distract him with my silly girl crush? What? Did you want me throw myself at you harder!?" You nearly sob.

"I wanted you to wait!" He bellows, still holding onto you. You stiffen in his hands, him softening again when he see the shocked expression you hold. "I wanted you to wait for me," he repeats, much softer this time.

"You should have told me," you croak, pushing on his chest weakly. "You should have told me back a Beorn's. I would have respected that. I would have left it for the time being."

"I should have, yes." He tilted his forehead to yours. "And I have been trying endlessly to get you alone. Balin told me to give you time, but I couldn't and the longer I waited the more you pulled away."

"Because you look at me like I'm broken! I can't do this anymore!"

"Stay with me." He rumbles. You let out a sob. "Stay with me." You tremble against him, tears flowing steadily and you shake your head.

"I've tried to leave. So many times I've tried. I can't. I can't. I love you too much." You cry at him, gripping his dress robes tightly in your hands. "Let me go, dammit."

"No. No, never again." He snarls. "I want you by my side forever. You are my one." You collapse against him, holding him tightly. "Y/N, please forgive me for my foolishness." You just clutch him tighter to yourself and he jerks you against him aswell. "Marry me." He begs.

"No." You respond, dragging away to glare at him. He sighs, exasperated.

"If you love me as I do you, then why will you not marry me?" He demands, face turning red and veins popping out, his tell tale sign that he was incredibly frustrated.

"That's the first time you've said you loved me and you ruined it." You sigh, deflating completely. He softens, seeming to understand a bit.

"I'm being to brash, I see." He cups your face, tilting it back and stroking your cheeks to dry them. "Y/N, I love you. Until the day I die, I will. I will say it a thousand times over if it means you will marry me." He leans his mouth down, kissing you for the first time. It's sweet and gentle, soothing your flared nerves. You sink against him.

"Thst's a good place to start." You say. He frown, confused. "Say it to me a thousand times over. Don't think you won't have to put in the work for it." He blinks in surprise, then groans in annoyance.

"You jest."

"No, I mean it. I chased your kingly ass from Bag End to Erebor. You can at least have the decency to court me!" You tell him sternly. Normally, you were sweet and agreeable. "King or no, I will not marry you if you don't give me good reason to." You declare. His lips part in shock, and then he smiles, a big, beautiful smile that has the sun catching his eyes the most beautiful blue you've ever seen.

"I can give you plenty reason." Then, in a very frustrated manner he sighs and peaks at your head. "As long as you take that damn braid out. It's been the bane of my existance tonight." You gape, reaching for your hair.

"What's wrong with the braid? Dís did it." You squeak. He frowns.

"Do you not know what it means?" You dumbly shake your head. Despite living with dwarves for three years, you still hadn't quite caught on. An irate glare settles on his face. "This particular braid indicates that you are actively seeking a life partner." You're eyes widen in shock when he reaches up to gently brush a hand over it. "This one thst wraps around it, that one indicates you are feeling particularly... Famished." He offers.

"Famished?" You repeat, confused. He gives you stern look, trying to tell you something. Oh! Hungry for more than what lined the banquet tables. You gape at him, horrified. "I'm going to kill her!" You quickly dive a hand toward your hair struggling with the clasp.

How dare she! You trusted her with your hair and she went and told everyone you were feeling spring fever! For the love of the gods, you couldn't have any peace in this place.

"I take it she decided the dress too." He murmured grimmly. I froze where I was, eyeing him with anxiety.

"Oh, no. What's the hidden meaning behind the dress?" You ask, closing your eyes tightly.

"Well those are the King's colors to begin with, and while they suit you wonderfully, it's a very bold pairing with your hair. You look incredibly enticing tonight. Like a gift for the King." You flush deeply. You might as well have a sign taped to you that says 'I'm here to fuck the King'.

"I bet your sister's feeling proud of herself," you grumble.

"Probably, but I when she arrived, she was surprised to find how smitten I was with you. I would speak of you for hours." He informs you. It makes you gulp. Gently, he takes your hands, kissing you again sweetly. "Come back and actually enjoy the wedding, please."

"Yeah! You've been moping about for ages!" Kíli's voice cuts through. You both peer over at him, shocked to see practically the whole company peering in eagerly. "So? Did you say yes?" He demands.

Thorin glowers at him, but you just ease a hand over his chest from beside him, a soothing gesture he'd long since missed. "Kíli."

"No need to be shy among us. Did you say yes lass? Are you going to be our queen?" Bofur urges eagerly.

"No, I turned him down." Jaws drop in shock. "He'll have to work for it." You lean back in, delivering kiss to his fuzzy cheek. His gaze softens on you and you smile at your friends.

The rest of the night is easier. Loud music, plenty of drinking and dancing lead to you being exhausted... And a bit mischievous with the King.

The two of you had slipped to his chambers so he could pull out that braid and instead braid his own courting braid. It was intimate and gentle kisses where exchanged. The air heavy with unspoken energy hanging between us. And then it happened, one moment you were getting ready to leave for the night.

"You don't have to," he whispered against your lips, holding you in his arms tightly.

"I do, my king," you reply, smiling at his lengthening beard on his chin. He'd been growing it out, free of all shame, it seemed. "Propriety dictates-"

"Fuck propriety," he rumbles. "How dare you speak that word when you're in such a dress." You laugh when he leans you against the door.

"Blame your sister." You purr, kissing his lips fully. Neither want to pull away, too caught up in the feel of each other.

"Then leave now, or I'll keep you in here. You'll never be allowed to leave." He snarled into your mouth. You laugh and shake your head.

"Don't get me wrong, I want to, Thorin. I want to stay so bad it hurts. But we shouldn-Eek!" He had enough and gone was your dress, ripped in half easily down the middle. If it was a tradition dwarvish dress, that would be difficult. But it was a light fabric Dís had tailored for elvish design, something to compliment Tauriel's heritage.

"I warned you." He rumbled and then there was the chain reaction. The world blurred as you tore at each others clothes until you were being rocked against the walls, gasping for breath and moaning loud enough for anyone walking by to hear. I was not dissappointed, to say the least.

(I'm debating making a part 2 but its late and I've got work in 8 hours.)

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Is there any chance or plans to continue the Marillion AU in the future? I really like it.

Thank you so much! It went a bit unnoticed, so I kinda forgot about it, but I still had one chapter half-ready and managed to finish it now:

The Fight

Marillion found Stoneheart at the Eiffel Tower. He had grown into a giant by now, and swatted the police helicopters away like flies. Ladybird and Chat Noir were busy talking to the police at the ground, giving her an opening to talk to her champion.

Unnoticed she slipped behind a car, with clean view of the tower.

“Stoneheart!”, she called him, summoning the glowing outline back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m teaching Chloé a lesson!”, he answered, beaming with excitement. “You were right, Marillion; she’s the real monster. And when she’s out of the way, I’ll talk to Mylène!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh boy.

“You can’t just kidnap them, Stoneheart!”, she rebuked. “You’re scaring Mylène to bits! Why didn’t you just wait until after school to have a calm conversation with her?!”

“But…”, he stammered with a confused pout. “But I missed her!”

Emotion personified, indeed. Sighing, she looked up.

“Okay, don’t worry. We can still save this. You’ll release Chloé, and then you’ll explain the heroes and the public that this was just a misunderstanding. After that, you tell Mylène how you feel, we call it a day and everybody’s saved. Alright?”

“I don’t want to release Chloé! She’s a bully!”

“Believe me, I know. But that’s not up for debate. Put her down, now!”

Stoneheart grumbled, then shrugged. 

“If you insist…”

-

Ladybird raised her arms and turned to the cops. 

“No! Don’t attack, you’ll only make him stronger!”

Captain Raincomprix only gave her a glare, his broken arm still in a sling.

“Oh, hush. Leave it to the professionals this time! You didn’t do it right the last time either!”

Her blood began to boil and she raised her finger, both a threat and an accusation.

“Why, you little-“

“Ladybird!”, a startled Chat censored, but that didn’t stop her.

“Without us, there wouldn’t be a “This time” at all!”, she raged. “We saved your butts, cut us some slack for rookie mistakes.”

She wanted to give him a few more pieces of her mind, but Chat was already pulling her aside.

“Ladybird, leave him alone. He’s got every right to be suspicious of us!”, he reasoned. “We need to convince him we can do this - by defeating Stoneheart for good this time. We gotta think of something!”

His words reminded her of something. If Ladybird had thought this through we wouldn’t be in this mess!

It hurt to admit it, but… Marinette was right. Alya had underestimated this whole superhero thing, and now they were facing the consequences. 

“Okay,” she told Chat, forcing her anger to dissolve. She had to be chill, rational. “We know where his Akuma is, right? In the hand he’s holding Mylène. So-“

“I demand you release my daughter!”, the mayor screamed at this moment, cutting her off. He was holding a megaphone, and Ladybird had to roll her eyes. Did he seriously expect the Akuma to listen?!

“Gladly!”, came it from the tower and Ladybird stiffened.

She jumped around, just in time to see how he hurled the screaming girl at her father. Shouts came from everywhere at once, and before she knew it herself, Ladybird was running. But she had reacted too late, so confident in herself that she had taken her eyes off the monster. Chloé was falling, falling and Ladybird knew she wouldn’t make it, she’d be too late, Chloé would-

A flash of purple came from the corner of her eyes, and suddenly there was another figure in the air. Lilac arms wrapped around Chloé, and black gloves held onto her as the figure descended, landing safely on the ground.

Ladybird came to a stop, too baffled to walk on.

Was that…?

“Are you alright?”, a soft voice asked. It took Ladybird a moment to  realize the question was directed at Chloé, and a few more moments to get that it had come from the girl in purple. The girl with a butterfly-shaped mask. The girl that could only be…

“Hawkmoth!”, Ladybird snarled and threw her yo-yo. Her enemy dodged, dropping Chloé and somersaulting back. Before Ladybird could pull back and aim again, Hawkmoth had retreated to a safe distance and jumped on the Tower, landing on her rocky creation.

“No!”, she announced. “I am Marillion, the new butterfly! And there’s no need for fighting!”

She nudged Stoneheart, who nodded with a groan.

“Okay, okay. She’s right. This was a misunderstanding.”

“That misunderstanding almost cost a girl her life!”, Chat yelled back, and Marillion stomped, making Stoneheart jump.

“It was an accident, he misunderstood me. And he’s very sorry, right?”

Stoneheart pouted, giving Ladybird the chance to step next to her partner and speak up.

“Don’t come with that whole “misunderstood” bullshit! You’re a threat to Paris!”

Marillion’s face turned angry.

“I’m the threat?!”

Fuming, she took a step forwards and spread her arms.

“Citizens of Paris!”, she spoke, eyes blazing. “You have suffered enough from your heroes incompetence! I swear to you, I mean no harm. I merely want to help those who feel down, to work through their emotion, to find a solution! And I will not allow two Wannabe-Heroes to risk the well-being of those they claim to care about.”

She glared at Chat.

“Don’t think I forgot you wanted to cataclysm Ivan, yesterday. If you stand in my way, or hurt my champion,” she growled. “I will take your Miraculous’!”

Marillion’s stare was relentless, seething with a protective fury that stole Ladybird’s breath. Something in her chest fluttered. In this moment, the superheroine could not think of anything more beautiful than the girl on the tower.

Realizing where her thoughts were headed, she jumped. No. Nonono, not happening. Action, she needed action! 

Ladybird glanced at Chat. He seemed to falter, to hesitate. Everybody was standing still, staring at Marillion. They were evaluating her, thinking about her words. Ladybird clenched her hands to fists.

No. She would not allow the villainess - because that’s what she was! - to shake trust in them any further.

Her clapping echoed on the place when she stepped forwards, regarding her opponent with an icy look.

“Nice try, Hawkmoth - or Marillion, or whatever you want to call yourself.”, she said, trying to drown her hammering pulse out. “But we know who’s the villain here. I won’t let you reverse the roles! Without you, none of this would have happened!”

Yeah, every good hero started out with an even better speech. This would be hers.

“Marillion, I promise you: No matter how long it takes, we will stop you! And then we’ll take your Miraculous!”

Not waiting for Chat Noir, she spun her Yo-yo and went in for the attack. With a jump she was on the tower, hurling her Yo-Yo at Marillion. She dodged, but was forced to retreat.

“Stoneheart, get Mylène out of here!”, she yelled to her servant, blocking another attack with her cane. Ladybird growled.

“I won’t let you take hostages! Chat!”, she called when her partner caught up to them. “Save Mylène!”

“Aye aye!”

“Did you not listen to a word I said?”, Marillion groaned. “You two menaces will end up hurting the girl!”

“Was that a threat?”, Ladybird snarled and went for her head, but her opponent dodged, pausing just long enough to face palm. 

They continued their dance, a rapid succession of attacks and retreats, their weapons too incompatible to allow a consistent fight. 

“Feel like giving up yet?”, Ladybird taunted and narrowly avoided a hit of her cane. Marillion snickered, a sound far too sweet for the villain she was. “Why, are you tired already?”

“Just tired of wasting time!”, she gave back. “We’ll win in the end. Might as well cut this short.”

“So sure of yourself?”

Marillion was slowly moving the fight to the upper levels of the tower, Ladybird noticed - trying to follow her champion. Not so fast! A kick in the chest send the villainess stumbling back, giving Chat more time. 

“Of course!”, Ladybird continued, smugly pulling back her yoyo. “I’m the hero, you’re the bad guy. Good always triumphs over evil.”

She smirked.

“Save yourself the trouble and give up.”

Suddenly Marillions hand shot out, catching the yoyo by the wire before Ladybird could fully retrieve it. With a yank she made her lose her footing, wasting no time to attack. Before Ladybird could even scream, the butterfly wilder had pounced and slammed into her, pinning her to the ground. 

“Oh, don’t you know?”, Marillion asked mockingly sweet. “A true hero never gives up.”

Too stunned to move, Ladybird had no choice but to stare up at her enemy. Her pitch black pigtails. Her fiendishly fierce gaze. Her villainously vibrant eyes. Or - damn it - her condescendingly cute freckles. Not that she was admiring her! She was simply cataloguing her enemies appearance, for superhero reasons! 

“S-Shut up!”, she shook herself out of it. With a swing of her legs - superhuman strength, heck yeah! - she  gathered momentum and threw them back, reversing their positions. “You’re not the hero! Don’t think being pretty makes you good!”

Wait, what?

“I never said that?!”, Marillion asked in confusion and Ladybird panicked. “NEITHER DID I! Argh! Forget it, just give me your miraculous!”

After a short brawl, both of them ended up on their feet again, quickly resuming their previous fight. Just like before, Marillion was still pursuing the other two. That - and only that! - caused Ladybird to get distracted, sloppier. A mistimed throw of her yo-yo, followed by a skillful swing of Marillions cane sent her falling down her beam, barely catching herself a few meters further down. 

“Oh f… Crap!”

Maillion had quite the head start now, closing in on her partner. 

“Oh fu- Damn!”

Ladybirds yoyo had fallen to a lower floor, and without retrieving it, she wouldn’t be able to purify the akuma. Looking down to search for it, she encountered yet another problem.

“Oh- fuck.”

Dozens of stone monsters came crawling up the tower, surprisingly quick for their size. If she wanted her yoyo, she’d have to go through them.

Hang in there, Chat Noir, she thought with a last worried glance upwards. This is going to be a close one.

-

“Holy shit, that was a close one!”, Chat squealed after Stonehearts fist had missed him by a hairs breadth. The hero had tried to use his staff to free Mylène, but Stonehearts grip was too tight and he didn’t want to accidentally hurt his captive. 

“Stoneheart!”, yelled a voice just then, when it couldn’t get any worse. Marillion, light as a feather, landed in front of him and gestured the monster to move. “I’ll handle him. You go talk to Mylène!”

Ladybird was nowhere to be seen, so Chat Noir turned to face Marillion alone. The purple-clad girl made no move to attack, simply circling him with her weapon ready. She was playing for time.

“We don’t have to fight.”, she proposed and he matched her pace, not willing to let her get behind him. “I’m trying to help Ivan!”

“By turning him into a monster?”, he scoffed, going in for the attack. Her cane parried his baton with an unexpected strength, and she lost no time to push back. “By letting him work out his emotions!”, she replied, diving under his next attack and trying to grab his arm. He in turn reached for hers, only to find them locked in a battle of brawn, no one willing to give up any ground. “Do you have any idea how he felt this morning?”, she pressed out, all her upper body strength needed to keep him at bay. Locked in this position, he could see how she wrinkled her nose in concentration. “He was devastated! Heartbroken! Was I supposed to just leave him like that?”

“Harming others is no solution!”, Chat gave back, eyes returning to hers again. He blinked, surprised. He hadn’t expected her to look this… sincere. 

“Bottling his feelings up isn’t either!”

She huffed, gaining a few centimeters. 

“He’s only human. Just let me help him to get through this! How would you feel if your only options were misery in solitude, or being mocked for your feelings?”

That hit a little too close to home. Literally. 

“Everyone deserves to let loose for a while.”, Marillion pleaded and Chat gulped. Tell that to my dad, please. “I can help Ivan to process everything, to find a solution. I just need to be there for him.”

“Why-“ he huffed out, the “-should I believe you” falling victim to his exhaustion. Marillion answered anyway, bluebell eyes burning into his.

“Because I care.”

She cares. Without expecting anything in return. Against his will, Chat felt his grip give a little. Marillion wasn’t evil, he realized. Not like Hawkmoth. She truly believed she could help. After being trapped inside a cold, loveless home for so long, he couldn’t help but melt at her words. His heart, already racing from their fight, sped up to twice its former pace.

An angry shout shook him out of his reverie, just when a furious Ladybird was sailing over his head and into one of Stonehearts copies. 

“Hang in there, Kitty!”, she yelled over her shoulder, punching the monster into the ground with her bare fists. “I’ll save you!”

Immediately his resolve returned and he shoved Marillion backwards, finally gaining the upper hand.

“I believe you!”, he insisted, not breaking eye contact. “You’re a good person, I can feel it. You’re just… misguided!”

She blinked.

“…what?”

“Misguided! But don’t worry, we can fix this.”

He knew how this went, now. Dashing hero, well-meaning, cute villainess… Didn’t every anime say love fixed it all? Well, he’d gladly accept his role as her love interest.

“I’ll help you! Just release the akuma, and we’ll work something out… over dinner maybe?”

He beamed at her, missing how her eye started to twitch.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s okay, take your time. Lunch would be okay for me too. I’m not nocturnal.”

Hm… She didn’t exactly look convinced. Had he talked about himself too much? Oh god, he should’ve talked about her instead!

“Not that you wouldn’t look absolutely pawsome in an evening dress. Graceful as a Venus butterfly, I imagine.”

Marillions took a very deep sigh and let her head hang, then she smiled at him. An innocent, absolutely adorable smile so cute he felt like it had punched him in the face. His cheeks grew hot under the mask when she leaned closer.

“Not in any of your nine lives”, she beamed, and before her words really registered in his mind, she had already let go of his arm, swirled him around and kicked him over the railing. A very unheroic scream escaped him, before he collided with an equally ruffled Ladybird mid-air and slammed with her into the next platform. 

“She’s amazing!”, he sighed when his head stopped spinning.

“She is dead!”, Ladybird hissed between clenched teeth. 

Pretending she wasn’t blushing when Marillion winked at them from two stories above.

- - -

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

gay