#but I don’t like the rigid planning that my parents make me do if ever want to

[quibbs126]

Do you think you’re able to branch out slowly, like learning your size of pants or maybe learning sewing? (Learning a skill could be useful for you).

Okay maybe I should have used a different example for that first one, because when it’s said back to me, god it sounds so embarrassing and sad. Especially because I’m 20 years old. Like I am old enough to vote in my country

Sorry random tangent, I know it probably wasn’t meant as anything bad

But yeah, I suppose learning a skill might be good. I have been told knowing how to sew is a very useful skill, and I think once when I was younger I knew a bit about it, but not anymore. I also don’t know where the sewing needles are. I used to have one but I don’t know where it is anymore. Though I mean I suppose sewing isn’t the only option I have, it was just a suggestion. Maybe I’ll find something to do

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight, Ch 5: To Atomize

summary: nathan leaves his house to tell you he loves you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, mentions of sick/dying parent, pining, dom/sub dynamics, mid love confessions, oral (m + f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, squirting, NATHAN’S SO IN LOVE AND SIMPY AND FREE

wc: 6,138

an: we've sadly reached the end of the main story. thank you thank you for all the support on this fic. a girl watches ex machina once and suddenly is writing 20+k for an asshole simp. i do plan to write the extras fairly quickly (the next month or so) and they'll vary in length. i hope y'all stick around for more of them.

in plain sight masterlist | family dinner | tiana | TIONB | planted | little hamlet

You and Nathan are doing work out on the couch, your legs thrown over his. It’s all very domestic, something the both of you could get used to. 

He doesn’t look up when he asks, “That date out— do you still want it?”

“I do but honestly, I don’t think it’s realistic. You like being out here, Emma and Phillipa shouldn’t be at home by themselves for so long— not to mention my mom.”

“You don’t talk about your mom,” He observes, his eyes rising from his laptop to look at you. 

You continue your work as you talk, “There’s too much to talk about. And nothing at all.”

“And the vagueness returns,” There’s more bite in his voice than he wants there to be, but he can’t help it.

You notice immediately— going rigid like stone before you fix him with an empty gaze. “She’s dying. She can’t work. She sleeps most days. In the mornings before I come here, I read to her and when I get home I tell her I love her and kiss her goodnight. Is that specific enough for you, Mr. Bateman?”

Nathan just looks at you, his eyes for once, void of any emotion to tell you how he’s feeling. Nathan 3 months ago would have stormed away, or said something snarky. But, he just keeps looking at you. The silence makes you uncomfortable and your words replay in your mind over and over, guilt building each time. Your mother’s a tender subject, but Nathan is…more than anyone has ever been to you despite not making that clear to him. You open your mouth to apologize but he shushes, closing his laptop and then yours before he pulls you into his lap and holds you close. 

He kisses at your temple, your forehead, your cheek, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

It shouldn’t catch you off guard, his affection and tenderness but it does. You melt into him even as your walls go up inside. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, honey. It’s not. Can you tell me what—“

“Cancer. Off and on since I was in high school.”

“You’ve been taking care of your sisters off and on since they were born?”

You shrug. It was true. In the moment, when you and your mother had made those decisions together— your father wishing and washing his way in and out of your lives whenever he felt like— they hadn’t seemed like a big deal. But, Nathan’s tone can’t help but make you realize how much you’d missed out on because of your duty to your family.

“Shit, honey.”

“It’s alright, Nathan,” You breathe. It’s not, it’s never been okay, but you’ve been telling yourself that for as long as you can remember. 

“It’s not. You’re a good fucking woman. You and your family deserve better.”

“They do deserve better. My sisters don’t have a time remembering her like I do. Before she got sick. That’s fucked up isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, baby, it is.” His hold on your tightens, a hand smoothing up and down your back. “Let me take you out for one night.”

“Nathan, I just said—“

He takes your jaw into his hands, intentional yet gentle with his grip as he guides you to look at him. Those big brown eyes are warm but firm. “We’ll do it in the city. I’ll pick you up from your apartment, you’ll be a phone call away. I’ll bring you home first thing in the morning. C’mon baby, you deserve a break. Let me give it to you.”

—

You agree to Nathan’s advances, like you always do these days. This date takes a lot of coordinating— but somehow it all turned out in your favor. Nathan jokes that it’s because of his god-like will. You’re just happy to take the breather when it’s presented to you. Emma gets invited to her first sleepover, Phillipa’s school is having a lock in. Somehow, Nathan had convinced you to accept him paying for one day of round the clock care for your mother so her usual nurse, Celia, could have a day off too.

You’re realizing that maybe you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. That you believe what he’s said about the depths of his feelings for you and maybe, you’re ready to take the next step and allow yourself to feel them openly for him too. How quickly the tide turns. How quickly Nathan had put in the effort to show how badly he wanted this— you. 3 months ago you could say with sincere surety that you did not like Nathan Bateman. And now…well you were sure you couldn’t deny loving him. 

He tells you to dress formally— it lands you in your favorite black dress, the one that always gives you a boost of confidence and makes you feel good. You’re going to need if your racing thoughts about how your feelings have deepened are any indicator for how the evening will go. And maybe, once or twice, you’ve imagined Nathan peeling you out of it when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband late at night.

When you open the door, Nathan’s in a crisp white button down and slacks, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders— your knees nearly give out. So do his.

“Fuck me,” He breathes.

“My neighbors can hear you,” You remind him breathlessly, your face hot as his eyes slowly trace your figure. 

“They should be lucky we’re not staying here or they’d hear a hell of a lot more. Fuck. You look incredible, baby.”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I’ve seen enough of those.”

“Nathan.”

“Can you fucking blame me? You walk out here in this tight little dress, one I imagine will stay on until after dinner, which is a fucking sin if you ask me. I’m giving commotion for the dress honey, it is what it is. Come here,” He reaches for you, snaking his arm around your waist so he can kiss you thoroughly. When he breaks the kiss he whispers, “Hi.”

Some of your nerves dissipate at his clear attraction to you, his sweetness. You smile against his mouth, bumping his nose with your own. “Hi. You look so handsome.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Patience and good manners, you’re a changed man yet.”

“Does that mean if I ask to feel you up in the limo, you’ll say yes?”

“My neighbors, Nathan,” You remind him sternly, though you’re still smiling. 

“Stuffy old fucks probably need a good show.”

“Walk.”

—

The limo ride to the nearby docks is 40  minutes with the traffic — and he helps you out like a gentleman, guiding you to a moderately sized boat. It’s impressive, all cream and blues, the 

“Nathan, why is there a helicopter next to this boat?”

“In case you need to get home,” He says simply, if that explanation is enough. 

“In case— we got here by limo.”

“You’re a phone call and a 10 minute helicopter ride away from your family.”

How were you gonna make it through dinner without dragging him to the ground so you could ruck up your dress and fuck him? He was saying all of this, doing all of this so nonchalantly, like it isn’t the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

He leans in, mouth and beard tickling your cheek as his whispers teasingly, “This is usually where people say thank you.”

You lean away, giggling a little. Your tone is suggestive, “What if I’m saving my thank you until after dinner?”

“Finally gonna show me some of those methods? It’s been driving me fucking nuts, honey.”

“Depends on how good you are.”

Nathan bites back a moan. This is all so fucking surreal. Being out of his home, being with you. Learning more and more about you, seeing you. Being yours and you being his. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for. He thought he would’ve fucked up by now— and he has, but you held a selfless amount of patience in your heart. He finds himself feeling���grateful? It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he pushes away from a young age. 

“Don’t be filthy before dinner,” He murmurs lowly.

“You‘ve been eyeing my tits since you picked me up,” You challenge. 

“I’ve been appreciating them, there’s a difference. You ever been on a boat before?”

You eye the boat thoughtfully, “My mom used to take me on the ferry. Does that count?”

Nathan hums. He hasn’t ushered you onto the boat just yet, the two of you standing out on the docks in the salty breeze. It’s nice, being out in the fresh air like this, the water dark as the sun finishes dipping below the horizon. He’d anticipated much more anxiety given his hermit tendencies but it was just you and him and the few staff he’d hired to manage the boat. 

“Do you want to name it?” He blurts out all of a sudden.

“Name what?”

“The boat,” He nods towards the ship. 

You frown, confused. “You haven’t named the boat?”

“I bought it last week.”

“Nathan, did you buy this boat to take me out on a date?”

“Yes I did,” He says with no shame. 

All of that will be an adjustment, the blasé way that he spends money— especially when he spends it on you. You know that he has a fuck ton of it but still; you’ve never lived a life of luxury. 

“Do all employees get this sign-on bonus?” You tease.

“Hush, cheeky girl. Name the boat.”

You grow thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness quickly melts into a melancholic, wistful feeling. You think about your mom. How she’s been swayed back and forth by the tide of life, doing her best to float above it all. It would be nice wouldn’t it, to name something after the woman you love most?

“Boats are named after strong women. So I think…Tiana,” You murmur, voice full of emotion. You clear your throat quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

But Nathan’s obsessed with you— and now that you’ve let him in, he can sense every push and pull. He maneuvers you so that your back is flush with his front. “I like it. Tiana…is that your mother?”

You don’t trust your voice. You simply hum, nodding a little bit as you press back against him. 

He squeezes you tighter, “It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely fucking perfect.

He cups your jaw with one hand, guiding your gaze to his. He’s never seen you nonverbal like this before, never seen sadness in your eyes like this. It makes his chest ache. He guides your mouth to his, kissing you with gentle reverence you never would’ve guessed he was capable of until recently.

Nathan just holds you, letting you melt against him in silence for an undetermined amount of time. His worry grows. “Do you want to call the nurse before we sit down for dinner? Emma? Phillipa?”

Finally, you speak. “No. No, it’s alright. I spend the entire day away from all of them when I’m working for you— I can do this.”

“Just say the word, okay, sweetheart?”

You lean in to give him a soft peck of appreciation, “Yes, I will. Thank you, Nathan.”

Dinner is much more elaborate than it had to be— but this is Nathan you’re talking about, a man with practically the entire world at his fingertips. Of course a 10 course meal makes sense to him. Not that you’re complaining about a personal sized crawl through Italy; breads and antipasto, pastas of all sorts, wines that are perfectly paired, and to end your favorite dessert from the first time the two of you shared a meal together. Despite his underestimating himself and his chaste manner, you think that Nathan is good at romance. He’s great at romance. By the time you’re finishing the last bite, you’re warm and full, a little buzzed and most importantly— needy for him. 

Your entire body is craving his. You’ve denied your desires and his for long enough. You need him, you feel like you might go insane with lust— with love, if you don’t have him. 

“Are we sleeping here?” 

“There’s a suite downstairs, or there’s a hotel nearby I reserved. It’s your call.”

“Here…here is good. Will you take me to bed?” You ask, nonchalantly. 

Nathan chokes on the wine he’s sipping, setting it down to looking at you more intently. “Take you to bed,” He repeats.

“Yes, Nathan, take me to bed,” You practically purr at him this time, voice low and smoky.

Nathan has had  lots of sex in his life, never been flustered or taken aback by anyone. He’s accepted that all of his past experiences go out the window when it comes to you, but he doesn’t expect such a strong reaction out of himself when faced with the opportunity to finally ravish you. He feels like if he stood up right now, his legs would give out like jello. 

The way you’re looking at him— he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like this in his entire life. Carnal and hungry, like when you kissed him breathless in the forest, but more intense. It’s almost overwhelming. He’s never been consumed before, and that’s exactly how you’re looking at him. Like you’re going to swallow him whole. His cock twitches and he takes a deep breath.

“Come here,” He says softly, pushing away from the table and holding his hand out for you.

You stand, moving closer to him but don’t take his hand. “If I touch you…if we start here, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Nathan feels winded. He squeezes his eyes shut, and nods. “Fuck, honey, alright. Follow me.”

Nathan guides you through the dining room and down a hall, not even bothering to mention what doors the two of you pass. His heart is pounding in his chest— he’s ready for this, been ready for so long and he wants this to mean something. He had been ready to wait as long as you needed in order for this moment to be everything it can be. 

The suite he takes you to is larger than you anticipated it to be, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As soon as Nathan shuts the door behind you, you practically launch yourself at him, your hands starting at where his shirt is tucked into his pants. You ruck it up, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Whoa, mmm,” He hums into your mouth. His hands finally fall to cup your ass, kneading and squeezing the way he’s wanted to for hours now. “You been this desperate the whole time?”

“Have you?” You counter as you press him against the door, grinding your hips against his. You can feel him through the fabric of his trousers, and it makes your mouth water. 

“Fuck, baby, lemme get you on the bed at least,” He breathes when he feels the way your hips rut.

You pull away, looking at him with bright but hazy eyes— like he’s just come up with some revolutionary idea. “The bed, right. Come here.”

You start to walk backwards, guiding him with you by his shirt. Once the back of your thighs hit the bed, you switch positions with him, encouraging him to sit down so that you can straddle him. Nathan feels weightless— this is like his dream come true. Just a couple months ago he was jerking himself off imagining a sight like this, and now he was living it. 

Looking up at you, he feels warm. Fuzzy. Like he’s in the safest place he’ll ever be in. With his limited data and hope, trust— things he’s never had with anyone— he knows that he is. This is all he’ll ever need. You’re all he’ll ever need. He loves you so much it hurts. 

“Baby,” He sighs, guiding your mouth down to his. Where your mouth is hurried and insistent, his is lazy and indulgent. He wants to savor every moment.

“Hmm,” You hum grinding down against his clothed cock in a move that makes both of you moan. 

“I fucking love you.”

You lean away, eyes wide with alarm. Part of you, most of you, thought that to be true. Well— whatever he was capable of feeling that was close to love. He’s proved himself to you. All of his intentions, his actions, his words— no matter how haphazard he’s been in communicating them— have been pure. While just a few months ago you were sure Nathan could love no one but himself, you’re sure now that he’s being completely honest. It sends you further into your frenzy. He loves you. 

Nathan Bateman fucking loves you. 

You’re quiet for so long that he feels antsy. There’s no regret, no anger in his heart like he thought there could be when first pursuing you. But he is starting to feel small, like a nuisance like his parents made him feel all those years ago. 

“Really?” You ask breathlessly, unsure if it’s from his declaration or your body’s response to being pressed against him like this. 

He scoffs, squeezing your hips, “Really? You think I fucking—“

“Okay, alright, I love you too.”

“Really?”

You fix him with narrowed eyes. Of course you get scolded but he gets to do the exact same thing as you. It’s very Nathan. It makes you love him more. 

“Nathan.”

“My really is fucking justified, I’m some asshole, you’re…you’re the moon. The sun. The sky. I’m not good at this poetic shit but I mean it.”

“You’re the sweetest, most thoughtful, insightful and just— kind. I know what you’re thinking, I know that something or someone’s taught you not to think that you’re kind and worthy but you are. Even if you’re an asshole and a clown, you are. And I love you.”

“We’re fucking corny and sickly sweet and so cliche. I could vomit,” He says, his grin wide and genuine. 

You nuzzle into him, laughing softly at the tickle of his beard, “You would study it, see if it quantified any of your love for me.”

“So you think I’m disgusting,” He murmurs, using his grip on you to rock your hips down against his cock. 

The pressure is sweet, and you shiver even as you try to get your voice even. “Am I wrong?”

He laughs a little, eyes fluttering when you help him rock you down even further, “No.”

You reach up to remove his glasses, bending to set them on the side of the bed— you didn’t want to break them, now with how you were about to ravish him. “Kiss me, Nathan.”

Usually, he needs to be told things once, twice, and again but this request Nathan obeys immediately. His hands start to travel up your body, fingers sliding under the fabric of your dress to expose inch after inch of your precious skin. His eyes are closed as he bares you to him, pulling down the cups of your bra so your breasts spill out, but he can feel how beautiful you are under his fingertips. Smooth and soft, fitting perfectly in his grasp.  Every touch, every kiss is electric. His hands skate up your stomach, cupping your breasts before he takes your nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. So good,” He mumbles into your mouth, his fingers still working, eager to hear the soft little sound you made.

You melt into him, nodding frantically as you continue to sip from his mouth. “You too.”

Nathan breaks away from your mouth, biting and kissing his way down your neck, sucking a faint mark into your skin. More. He wants more of you, and you more of him. He kisses a trail between your breasts before leaning in, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth. You taste so fucking good. Like honey and cocoa, so delicious. Not for the first time, Nathan thinks about how much he wants to consume you. Or be consumed. He can’t choose, his head is spinning and he’s getting more frantic, shaking beneath you as he sucks and nips at you. 

You can feel yourself getting lost in him, but this isn’t what you’ve thought about all these months. He feels incredible, his mouth is warm, his hands sure. The pleasure that’s blooming all over your body is one you'll never give up. But, no, for all these months, you’ve thought about turning him into a whining, shivering mess. You’ve thought about making him cum over and over until he can think of nothing but you. 

You lean away, cupping your face in your hands,  “Wait— please, let me touch you. I get off all the time, but I haven’t touched a man in so long. I wanna see you.”

“Honey—“

Your hands fall, gripping his shirt and ripping at it. Buttons scatter as you work him out of the shirt, leaning in to coax his mouth open for you once more.  “Let me make you cum. Please, I need it.”

“That’s what you want?” He asks skeptically.

“Yeah, and you’d give me anything, wouldn't you? You ask, tilting your head at him expectantly.

“I’d give you anything,” He confirms.

You slid out of his lap, reaching behind to unclasp your bra and discard it. It leaves you in nothing but black lace panties. “Then take your pants off.”

All Nathan can do for several moments is stare at you, his mouth agape, ready to drool. He could believe he’s died and gone to heaven, except he doesn’t believe such a place exists. And if he did, he would not end up in a place where he would be so privileged to be met with the sight of you. You're an angel in the most sinful way.

“Nathan,” You coo when he doesn’t move, a soft grin on your face.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. 

It’s adorable, it makes the heat in your lower belly burn brighter. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him by the second. “I thought about you like this so much.”

“Could've fooled me,” He heaves, trying to seem less affected than he is. That boat sailed the moment you asked him to take you to bed. 

You laugh softly at his words, dropping to your knees and resting your hands on his broad thighs.  “Don’t be snarky, baby, just let me make us feel good. You want that don’t you?”

Nathan shivers, even as your warm, honeyed voice glides across his skin. God he knew you’d be like this, knew he’d bend to your will so easily but to hear it and feel it. “I do,” He sighs, allowing you to guide him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Your eyes are dark with hunger, and you lick your lips a little as you look up at him. “God, your cock’s so fucking pretty. Can I put my mouth on you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” He whispers earnestly.

You aren’t gentle or patient or thoughtful about letting him adjust. You take Nathan’s cock completely, so deep that he feels like he’s starting to enter your stomach. It takes everything in him to keep his hips down, a will that crumbles when you swallow, your throat tightening around him. The sound you make is a cross between a gag and a satisfied hum. You pull off without missing a beat, spitting on the tip of his cock and lifting a hand to grip and pump him.

“Mmm, shit, that’s really…that’s really fucking—“ Nathan babbles incoherently, words cutting off. 

You start in on him again, your head bobbing up and down as you take him over and over again. The noises he’s making have you squeezing your thighs together. Soft and breathy and so so sweet. You peer up at him wanting to see how he looks. The flush in his cheeks is deeper and redder, his eyes somehow sharp and hazy all at once. Seeing him so vulnerable, gooey and nearing the peak of pleasure you don’t stop, sucking harder, allowing the tip of his cock to go deeper.

One of his hands falls to your shoulders, gripping it gently, “Wait— wait— fuck, hold on baby, just,”

Carefully, you pull off of him, wiping at the trail of spit that connects your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with those sweet little eyes, like you haven’t nearly sucked what little of a soul lies within him. “Hmm?”

“Wanna cum inside you, please.”

“This is you cumming inside me,” You challenge, kissing at the head of his cock.

“Inside your pussy,” He gasps, the vein that trails down the center of his forehead on display as he fights to stay still—as he holds back.

You rest your head on his thigh, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon. The sight alone almost makes him cum. 

“Say, please,” You whisper.

“Please, sweetheart.”

“You’re so good, do you know that?” You ask him softly, reaching up to cup his face. 

“Good?” He asks with a furrowed brow. The word directed at himself feels clumsy in his mouth. 

“Good,” You repeat as confirmation. “So good that you’re gonna lay back against those pillows without another word aren’t you?”

Processing your words, he simply nods, helping you to your feet before he scoots back, propped up against the pillows, looking so devilishly handsome. If you stared at him long enough, you’re sure you could cum from just this sight. But why torture yourself like that, when you’re this close to having him buried inside you? Body humming with anticipation you crawl up the bed, straddling him once more. 

“Do you want to feel how wet I am?” 

“Yes,” He answers quickly before tacking on, “please.” 

That sentence alone shows just how much Nathan Bateman is a changed man. Please without being promoted? Atop apologies and vulnerability and love confessions. 

You hold your panties to the side for him, “Go on then. Touch me, baby.”

Nathan’s eyes track to where your pussy runs along his cock, burning hot. He reaches for you, letting his fingers sweat through your folds, causing both of you to moan. You’re so fucking wet, dripping, glistening in the warm lamplight. 

“For me?” He asks, voice and hands trembling as he finds your clit, pressing his thumb against it.

“For you. Because you’re so fucking good for me. Good to me.”

Every fucking word out of your mouth pulls his closer to his release. He needs to be inside you, he can feel the clock ticking. “Can I fuck you now, honey? Please, I need to feel you.”

“Who knew Nathan Bateman would beg?”

“On my knees for the rest of my fucking life, baby.”

You can picture it, except in your dreams, Nathan’s beard is shining with your slick. Your breath catches, and you grow too needy to continue teasing him. It takes you just a few seconds to line him up with your entrance, giving neither of you time to adjust as you sink down on him completely. His back arches, huffing a heavy, labored breath. He’s sweating, he can feel it, his skin slick underneath your fingertips as your pussy grips him so deliciously tight. You’re dripping down his cock already.

“Fuck, honey—,” He laughs, squeezing at your hip, nearly pushing you off to hold on. “Fuck me, you couldn’t have— warned a guy?”

“Sorry,” You breathe, grinning down at him, “needed to fuck you.”

Nathan’s eyes roll as you rock your hips, completely breathless, “Shit—your pussy’s so fucking tight. So hot, you been saving this all for me?”

You bend, your nose resting against his as you gaze into him, “Savor it— don’t think. Don’t control. Just enjoy it, Nathan. Be with me. Give in to me. Say yes.”

“Yes,” He slurs, drawn out and drunk on you. 

You guide his hands to either side of his head, holding them down by his wrists as you start to move, your pussy taking his cock the way your throat had with even more ease. The two of you fit together so perfectly, your cunt swallowing his entire length over and over, pleasure mounting higher and higher inside you. Nathan’s winning the fight against his body now. He’s happy to submit to you, it feels so good, so perfectly sweet, like he was made to be underneath you like this. But his body screams for release, to roll you over and fuck you hard until you squeeze his cock so tight there’s no choice in his cumming.  

“Wanna cum…wanna cum in your pussy,” He whines, his hips lazily rocking up to meet yours. 

“You will baby, I’ll let you fill me up,” You assure him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, teasing yourself and him for a moment as you close your eyes and let yourself really feel every single inch of him.

Nathan’s lips are parted slightly, pink and flushed, soft gasps leaving him as your hips grind down against his. You remove one of your hands from his wrists, leaning back so you have room to run your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” He says, his words syrupy, “feels good. So good.”

“Let me in there,” You murmur, tapping two of your  fingers against his lips, and he opens wide immediately. You purposefully clench your cunt around him, a small reward for his obedience and he groans, his back arching as pleasure burns in his veins. 

“I’m gonna soak your cock,” You tell him matter of factly.

Nathan’s eyes go wide, his chest rising fast as his lungs beg for air. No matter what he does its not enough. He’s drowning in you, there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing he really wants to do about it. “Soak my—“

“Nice and wet, all over you. Gonna make us messier,” You whisper, like the sound of his cock gliding in and out of you isn’t already obscene. “You want that don’t you, Nathan?”

He doesn’t have words, just soft, needy sounds. Pleading round eyes. Shallow, noisy breaths. It’s all the answer you need.

“I know, baby. I know. Cum whenever you need to, I’ll make it,” The gentle tone of your voice doesn’t match the devious look in your eyes. 

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know his cock aches with the need to release, know he’s fighting this because he never wants this to end. Know that he’s never been this deep in subspace in his life, that he’ll obey any command you give him.

You shift up on your knees, until you’re taking nothing but the tip, and then rock back, taking him as deep as you can. Bending to your will, Nathan cums with a sound that can only be described as sweet agony. 

As he fills you up, your hips slip into a grind, pressing and pressing the tip of his cock against the sensitive spot inside you. You can feel it coming now, you know just how to twist your hips, just how long to rub at your clit to make it happen. Your thighs grow tight, your cunt clenching as it starts to milk him for everything he’s got. You gush around him, the sound so wet and filthy that Nathan thinks he might cum again. Your slick is everywhere; your thighs, your stomach and all over Nathan, his lower belly glistening with you. He looks down and groans again, need rising sharply in his chest. He wants to taste you. 

“Let me taste you, please. Drown me,” He begs, one of his hands shakily reaching for where the two of you connect.

Your hands fall to the pillows on either side of his head, propping you up from where you’d since collapsed onto him. “Nathan, baby, you’re tired—“

But, Nathan is desperate— as desperate as you were when you asked him to take you to bed, you can hear it in his voice as he pleads, “Sit on my face. Please, please, please, baby. Fucking, please. Let me eat your pussy.”

Your lost to him and his begging. With the little strength you have left, you shuffle up, getting you thighs on either side of his head, gently lowering yourself down through the burn of your muscles. Nathan has another idea, weakly reaching for you and effectively smothering himself in your pussy. Its messy, the sounds of his mouth as he licks and sucks at your clit like a starved man. Like you two hadn’t just stuffed yourselves full at dinner. 

“Nathan,” You mumble, trying to steady yourself by leaning against the headboard. His beard tickles against your thighs, but makes the work of his mouth even better, brushing each and every bit of your sensitive pussy.

Despite your plea, Nathan is insatiable, pulling you down by his grip on your ass. He’s gasping and whining into your cunt, like it's all too much and too little at the same time. He can hardly breathe with how firmly he’s got you pressed against his face, though he wouldn’t change his position for the world. He would happily die here if it was what you wanted.

He can feel your thighs shaking against the sides of his head and knows that you’re close to cumming. Doubling his efforts, Nathan switches from running his tongue through your folds to focusing solely on your clit, circling and circling in a maddening technique. When you fall apart on his tongue, he presses his tongue inside of you, eager to drink up every single drop of your sweet honey. 

He feels like he’s cumming again, his cock jerking behind you though there’s nothing for him to release. He feels like he’s been split right open, all of his tender, vulnerable spots on display.

It takes several minutes for Nathan to come back to himself once you shift off of his face, laying your body against his. He’s gasping for air with tightly shut eyes, his entire body shaking. You run a hand up and down his chest, cooing soft praises as you try to soothe him. 

He stares at the ceiling, steadying his breaths. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re the filthiest person I’ve ever met.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, admiring the shine of his beard that’s completely covered in you. A mark that he’s yours. “Thank you.”

The grin on your face— you’re trying to fucking kill him. How many times has he thought since he’s started this endeavor of winning your heart and why is it not over now that he has? Your grin is smug, full of fire, the fire he’s wanted from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He loves you so fucking much. If this is what he gets, he’ll be better for the rest of his life. He’ll move to the city, do the house in the crowded suburbs with the picket fence, get married. Have kids, and attend the most boring PTA meetings that plan bake sales. Bake sales where he’d have to make cookies— real cookies, not the ones with coconut sugar and almond flour, and low sugar chocolate. If it was what you wanted he’d do it all. Any of it at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking about?” You trace small shapes on his chest, enjoying the post-coital cuddle. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re everything,” He says easily. It’s nice— the reservations, the anxiety that he had about all of this has faded in the shadows. 

With you, Nathan gets to be completely honest, knowing that he’s safe. None of what his parents said was true. He’s not unlovable. He’s not selfish. He isn’t just a fuck up that can never amount to anyone’s expectations. Despite his mistakes, he’s allowed to be loved. 

“Remember when I was just your employee?” You ask teasingly, snuggling further into him.

“Fuck, I was an idiot for months. Best thing I’ve ever had, dangling in front of me in plain sight.”

“Not Bluebook?”

“No.”

“Or buying that property?”

“No.”

“The money?”

“No.”

“Your freedom?”

He snorts, “My freedom?”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you,” You remind him. 

“And I fucking meant it.”

“It doesn’t sound very…freeing. Very Nathan,” You muse softly. 

Nathan’s quiet for a long time— so long that you grow nervous, afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to sit up to apologize, he wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “This, sweetheart, is the freest I’ve ever been in my life.” 

Fin

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-eighteen

credit to whoever made the gif. found on google/pintrest.

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: okay so this one is really long, 4.1k words so strap in! I really hope it's a good one because it took me all afternoon to write it in between taking care of my kiddos. Hope you like it!!

Tags(closed): @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @capsgrantrogersclqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn @pampeop @cjand10 @purplerain85 @savannahcole99 @evanstanhoney @sebastianstansqueen @portrait-ninja @honeyglee @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @lilya-petrichor @valsworldofcreativity @buckycallsmeaslut @romanoffjohansson @themayzittcha @sapphiredreamer26 @buckybarnessimpp @itjustkindahappenedreally @mavrellover91 @esoltis280 @playboystark @legendarytrashcopeclipse @pansexual-4-all @elizacusi-blog @dnc331 @tee-swizzle @lovsalpkn @yourfavunsub @madebylilly @cerberusmybeloved @lclove2012-blog @onelmstreetett @tesseract69 @monique2281 @wayward-gypsy @wholesomewhorelol @ozwriterchick @pono-pura-vida @bogwaterswamp @s0urw00lf @daydreaming-mood @maggiemae5 @big-heart-ninjasblog @alexa4040 @screaming-les-bean @loustan90 @buckys2lut​ @marnle

Arranged Masterlist

I wrapped the bed sheet tighter around my naked body as I sat up in bed to let Steve fill us in on what we missed from his solo interrogation of Daryl. Bucky was still loungin on the bed, vibranium hand rubbing circles on my lower back, in hopes to keep me calm incase Steve told us something I didn’t want to hear. 

“So what did you find out?” I asked. 

Steve remained standing, hands buried in his pockets. “Are you sure you want to know, Y/N?” 

I nodded without hesitation. “I don’t care how bad it was. I need to know.” 

“Daryl was the one that pulled the trigger on your parents.” 

Bucky was now sitting up next to me and left a soft kiss on my shoulder when he felt my body tense at the news. The noises of the room around me faded, ears ringing with the news and I blinked back a few tears. There was a part of me that was relieved to finally know who killed my parents but I still needed to know why.  

“He was hired by someone, he didn’t know who. Someone called him a few weeks ago with a day and time of when to do it and when the caller got the proof of your parents death then Daryl would get paid.” 

My heart dropped. “Someone paid Daryl to kill my parents?” 

Steve gave me a sorrowful smile. “Yeah except he never got paid. Turns out that Daryl fucked up and told a friend about what he did. I guess the caller found out and said that he wasn’t going to pay Daryl.” 

A tear fell but I hastily wiped it away. “So my parents died for nothing?” 

“Did Daryl ever find out who hired him?” Bucky questioned. 

“Yeah but it was an alias.”  Steve sighed. “But he found out where this guy lives and was actually going to head there tonight to get the money.” 

I nodded. “Perfect, let's follow him there and figure it out ourselves.” 

Steve’s body went rigid and gave Bucky a look, who understood immediately. I looked between the two men and let out an angry groan. 

“Did you atleast get the fucking address before you killed him?” I asked. 

Steve snorted with a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “I’m sad that you don’t have enough faith in me, Y/N.”

It was my turn to snort a laugh. “So, when do we leave?” 

Bucky spoke while patting my lower back. “Why don’t we get dressed and we’ll meet downstairs to figure out a plan, okay?” 

I nodded and he smiled, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Take your time. We’ve got to do something with his body.” 

“Let me guess, throw him to the bottom of the ocean with cinder blocks tied to his ankles?” I joked with a laugh.

However with the look on their faces, I realized that it was in fact not a joke. That was how they got rid of the bodies. 

“I thought that was some kind of mob lore,” I admitted. 

Bucky ignored me and simply nodded towards our closet.

“No peeking, Rogers,” I warned while clutching the sheet closer to me. 

Steve made a big show of covering his eyes with his hands and even turned his back towards me for added measure. 

“Aw come on, just a peak?” Steve teased. 

With a light giggle, I darted across the room and heard Bucky let out a low whistle at my bare form. 

“Bucky?” I gently knocked on the open door to his office. 

Steve, Sam, and him were huddled together closely, muttering something to each other. It seized the second I walked in which earned them a raised brow. 

“Am I interrupting?” 

Bucky shook his head. “Not at all. We were thinking that maybe-.”

I held up my hand to silence him. “Don’t you even think about making me stay here. I’m coming whether you want me to or not.” 

“Y/N, with what happened earlier, I don’t want you to go over the edge,” Bucky said. 

I squinted my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I never wanted you to get involved in this. You’re too innocent-.” 

My loud groan had now cut him off and I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t finish that sentence, Bucky.” 

“All I’m saying is that I don't know what I would do if something happened to you.” Bucky shrugged. 

I walked into his arms and left a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be fine. Especially since I’ve got two super soldiers and Sam watching my back.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sam retorted. 

I merely smiled at him but then noticed a briefcase on the couch. It was closed but it didn’t need to be open in order to know what was in there.

“Why are you bringing the serum?” I asked. 

Bucky tightened his grip around me. “Daryl also mentioned that whoever hired him knew about the serum. So Steve suggested we hide it somewhere that no one knows.” 

“I know a place,” I offered as I opened the briefcase. 

The bright blue liquid in the vials looked so small in the large case which made me wonder how it had such an effect on humans. I played with one carefully between my fingers.

“How do you guys ingest it? Drink it?” I questioned. 

Steve took it from my hand, much to my protest, and placed it safely back into the case.

“It goes in through the bloodstream, the fastest way to take effect,” he informed me. 

“Sam, why did you never take it?” 

“It wasn't something I was interested in,” Sam admitted. “I’m more of a guy in the sky.” 

I sat on the edge of Bucky’s desk, watching him make sure his handgun was loaded before placing it into the back of his waistband. 

“Who were you going to give the serum to? To make your soldiers?” I wondered. 

Bucky gave me a side eye. “Why so many questions? Are you interested?” 

“Hell no. Even if I’m dying, don’t give it to me. I like the way I am.” 

For the next several minutes, I watched as the three of them sorted through the array of weapons that Steve had pulled from the safe and when Bucky handed me a gun, I quickly shook my head. 

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with it.” 

He sighed while opting for a knife instead and he slid it into my back pocket, not before giving a hard squeeze to my ass. 

Our eyes locked and my heart began to beat incredibly fast as I took in the way his eyes shone bright when he looked at me. The way the corners of his lips reached his eyes with his large smile. 

The thought of how he twitches lightly in his sleep when he’s exhausted made my heart beat even faster. Or the way he would leave me notes throughout the house earlier on in my time here and he was busy with work so he couldn’t say those things in person. 

My heart flipped when I remembered the one time we were laying in bed together and I was running my hand over the scars of where vibranium met skin. Bucky had been self conscious of it but I showed him how much I loved it by kissing every inch of those beautiful scars. 

The realization of what all these feelings and thoughts meant slammed into me like a train. 

Oh fuck. 

“Ready?” I asked while clearing my throat, hoping he could read my mind with his super soldier powers. 

Bucky responded with a firm kiss to my lips. “You don’t investigate on your own, okay? Stay with one of us the entire time.” 

The worry that clouded his eyes made my stomach drop. 

“Of course,” I gave him a reassuring smile. 

With Sam leading, I followed him with Bucky and Steve behind me as we all piled into the large SVU. Steve and Sam were up front, that left Bucky and I in the back, who wasted no time in tucking his nose into my neck, working on a mark from earlier. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek in hopes to keep my moans silent but it nearly slipped out when I felt vibranium fingers ghost along the skin underneath my shirt. 

“Bucky,” I whispered while looking towards the front of the car. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. 

My cheeks burned with a blush and forced him away from the skin of my neck to look into his eyes. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight, if we were even going to find what we were looking for. But I needed him to know what had been weighing heavy on my mind for a while now. 

His blue eyes bored deep into my own as I cupped his cheek to leave a kiss upon his plump lips. They tasted like the beer he had finished before we left, some sort of liquid courage. No matter how many times we kissed, it felt the same; like they were made and molded for each other. 

We slowly pulled away and rested our foreheads against each other. 

“Bucky?” 

He hummed. 

“I know it’s been a rough start with our marriage but I wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me the last couple months. You’ve been a great husband, given the circumstances.” 

Bucky smiled. “Anything for you, doll. I hope after everything we can have some sense of normalcy.” 

“I hope so too,” I agreed. 

My head rested against his shoulder as his vibranium fingers slipped with mine and brought my rings to his lip to leave a soft kiss to it. 

There was a buzz coming from my coat pocket and I stared at my phone with a puzzled look. 

“What is it?” Bucky asked. 

I gave him a slight shrug. “It’s John. He sent me this weird text.” 

The truth will be known soon. Too bad it had to be this way.

Bright lights shined from outside the car, behind Bucky, and there was no chance for me to warn him as a truck slammed into us, my screams being drowned out by the sound of metal scraping along the pavement and glass shattering. The force from the truck had sent our car rolling a few times and I felt my body being thrown around in the back before I smacked my head against the headrest of Steve’s seat, darkness encased me. 

A cold wave washed over me as I awoke with a loud gasp for air, water dripping from my now soaked hair. I blinked a few times, trying to gain my surroundings but as I tried to stand, I realized that I was tied to a chair. 

“What the fuck?” I cursed, thrashing against it. 

I gazed around the dark room in hopes I could see where I was or who threw a bucket of cold water on me. 

“Sorry for the water. I had to wake you up somehow.” 

My head whipped around so quickly a loud hiss fell from my lips, suddenly remembering how hard I had smacked it in the car accident. 

Oh, Bucky. 

“Where’s Bucky?” I asked the unknown voice. 

A dark chuckle echoed before the light finally turned on, my captor now becoming clear. 

“He’s a bit busy right now.” 

I scoffed. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Walker.”

John smirked. “I was starting to wonder if you ever found out it was me.” 

The sound of metal scrapping echoed in the room as he dragged a chair in front of me. I stared at him for a few moments, tilting my head to the side. But when it all started to finally click into place, I thrashed in my chair in hopes to reach him. 

“Try all you want, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere. The chair is chained to the ground and you're handcuffed,” John informed me. 

“You crashed into us, to what? Kidnap me?” I wondered. 

He shrugged. “It was the only way to get you alone.” 

“For what?” 

John leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I tried to warn you, Y/N. But you wouldn’t listen.” 

I looked at him bewailed. “Warn me about what?”

“Bucky!” John yelled. “He doesn't deserve you!” 

I laughed dryly. “You’re still hung up on me. Christ, we dated for two months.” 

John pushed himself out of the chair and yanked my head up towards him by the ends of my hair. I bit my lip to keep the scream in my throat. 

“Bucky isn’t who he says he is. He’s been lying to you.” 

I did my best to shake my head in his grasp. “Jealousy always looks terrible on you.” 

John ran a hand over his face and reluctantly let me go to sit in his previous spot. 

“Did he tell you the truth about your dad?” 

“What are you talking about?” I asked. 

While he leaned back into the chair, John wore an amused expression. 

“Your dad was never in the army, Y/N. He ran his own mob gang for years in the eighties before you were born.” 

“You’re lying,” I shook my head. 

John continued. “Your dad and Bucky’s dad were rivals, both of them ran their business on the same block.” 

“Bucky’s dad died in the army,” I informed him. 

John laughed. “Is that what he told you?” 

My shoulders slumped as I began to question what John had been telling me. Every time I tried to ask my dad what he did in the army, he would never talk about it. I only thought it was because he didn’t want to remember his time there. Not because he was lying about who he was. 

I didn’t want to believe that Bucky was lying but with his track record of keeping things from me, I couldn’t help but question it. 

“Do you know the real reason why you two are married?” John questioned. 

I merely shook my head. “I’m guessing you’ll tell me.” 

He ran a finger down my cheek and my body shook with disgust. 

“It was shortly after you were born. Bucky’s dad and your dad were in a shootout where your dad was seriously hurt. He begged for his life, for mercy. In order for his life, he promised yours to Bucky when you two were of age.” 

My heart dropped to the pits of my stomach and I felt the room begin to spin. There was no way my dad would give up my life to a complete stranger, his rival's son, so he could live? 

But I knew it couldn’t be that far fetched as I was making it out to be. Even if he told me it was for a different reason, he did arrange this marriage. 

“You’re lying,” my bottom lip trembled. 

John lifted my chin in order to look into his eyes. “The worst part? Bucky knew this and he was the one that reached out to your dad to remind him of the deal. Your dad was hoping that the Barnes’ forgot.” 

I yanked my face from his grasp. “I don’t believe you.” 

John sighed before typing something away in his phone and showed me the screen. My eyes scanned the email and felt my heart break into a bunch of tiny pieces when I realized that John had been telling the truth. 

Bucky had sent an email to my dad earlier in the year about the deal between our dads and that he was “cashing in” on it now. I needed to be married to him within the next six months or he would come and do what his father should have done all those years ago. 

Tears pooled in the corner of my eyes and when I squeezed them shut, the tears fell and I could taste the salt from them on my lips. 

“He lied to you, Y/N. Now he has to pay.” 

The door to the room was kicked open as four men were dragging in a man on his knees. I let out a choked sob when I noticed the man was Bucky, who seemed to be out of it. 

“Bucky,” my voice cracked. 

Almost upon hearing it, Bucky looked up with angry eyes when he saw my current state. He was quick on his feet to save me but one of John’s men kicked him behind the knee, knocking Bucky back down. They all held him down, hoping he wouldn’t be a match to the four of them with the serum running through his viens. 

John was standing behind me and I let out a scream when I felt his fingers through my hair yet again, yanking my head up at the ceiling. I looked at him upside down. 

“Where is it?” He asked. 

“Where’s what?” 

John sighed. “I’m in no mood, Y/N. Where is the serum?” 

My lips parted as I stared up at him, everything started to fall into place. “You’ve been the one looking for the serum?” 

“Where is it?” John ignored me. 

“Screw you,” I seethed. 

Another scream erupted from my throat when I felt John’s knuckles slam into my eye, blood pooled to the floor almost instantly. I had been yanked up to face him yet again. 

Even if I couldn’t see, I knew Bucky had been trying his best to fight against the men constricting him. 

“I didn’t want to do that but you’re not telling me the truth. You know I hate being lied to.” 

“Go fuck yourself,” I spat. 

This time John’s knuckles met with my mouth and it was filled with the taste of copper. His fingers gripped my throat and began cutting off my oxygen as he looked at me with hatred in his eyes. 

“Where’s the serum!?” he screamed. 

I spat the blood from my mouth into his face in response. 

John groweld in anger and snatched the gun from his pocket, forcing the barrel of it in my mouth. My body shook with fear as I felt the cold metal burry deeper into my throat. 

“You son of a bitch!” Bucky sneered. “I’m going to kill you!” 

Tears fell from my eyes when John cocked the gun and I knew that this was the end, I was going to die. 

“Boss, we found it!” 

My lungs filled with oxygen when John removed the gun from my mouth and I gasped. 

John smiled in victory as he was handed the serum that had been prepped in a syringe. His gaze bounced between Bucky and I, a disgusting, sinister smile crawling on his features. 

“Your parents died holding onto the serum's whereabouts. They claimed they didn’t know what Daryl was talking about. I told him to shoot them anyway.” 

If my whole world had not crashed down before, now it was buried deep into the pits of hell. 

“You were the one that hired Daryl?” 

John shrugged, as if the mention of the kids name disgusted him. “I should have been the one to pull the trigger. Would have saved me the headache of covering the paper trail back to me.” 

“You son of a bitch!” my voice screeched as I kicked and screamed, trying my best to reach him. “I’m going to kill you!” 

“You know,” John stared with wonder at the serum. “I was going to use this on me but I suddenly had a better idea.” 

He looked at the men holding Bucky down. “Where are the other two?” 

Steve and Sam. 

“They’re locked up in the basement, sir.” 

John nodded. “Good.” 

He then turned his attention back to me. “I hear that you would rather die than have the serum running through your blood. Such a shame, really. What I would give to have this. But what I’m about to do will bring me the same satisfaction.” 

I looked with wild eyes towards Bucky when it became clear what John was about to do. 

“Doll, it’s alright.” Bucky tried to ease my worries. 

“Bucky,” I wailed. “I don’t want this.” 

“I know. It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.” 

His words meant nothing as I felt the sharp end of the needle protrude my skin, the blue liquid disappearing into my veins. My vision had become hazy but yet clear and the strength I had filled me was almost too much and my head fell back as I lost consciousness for a moment. 

“Too bad your husband won't be alive to see the outcome of his greatest invention,” John snickered. 

With a gut wrenching scream, I broke free from my handcuffs, the effects of the serum working instantly. Bucky took this as an opportunity to break free from his captors and I fought them off with him. 

The power I felt surging through me was nothing I had ever felt. While it made my skin crawl with revulsion, I couldn’t ignore the ecstasy I had felt. 

We had been so engrossed in fighting off the men that neither of us saw John scurry out of the room, dropping his gun onto the floor in the process. 

Once the men lay at our feet and I had come down from this new high, everything that I had been told by John was at the forefront of my mind. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Bucky tried to reach for me. 

I pushed him away, fresh tears falling from my face. “Did you know?” 

He shook his head. “I had no idea he was going to inject you with it.” 

“No!” I sneered. “Did you know about the deal my dad made with yours in order to save his life? The deal that you were cashing in on?!” 

Bucky stumbled over his feet and swallowed the large lump in his throat. His mouth mimicked a fish out of water as he did his best to think of what to say. 

“Y/N, whatever John told you was a lie,” Bucky defended. 

In one swift movement, I had John’s gun gripped in my shaking hands. The barrel was pointed directly at Bucky, who stared at me with disbelief. 

“Doll, put the gun down,” he ordered with hands raised. 

I had started to sob, tears mixing with the blood from the wound on my eye and lip, and my hands were shaking uncontrollably. 

“What was I to you? Someone to have just to fuck with?” I wondered. 

Bucky shook his head. “Never. I never thought of you that way.” 

“Then why did you send that email to my dad?!” 

He had never been more confused. “What email are you talking about?” 

“Stop lying to me!” I ordered, forcing the gun closer to him. “Did you know about this deal?” 

With a deep breath, Bucky nodded. “My dad told me about it before he died. I didn’t want this, Y/N. But in order to keep my position in the mob, I had to.” 

I scoffed. “So that’s all I was? A way to keep your power?” 

“I thought so but not anymore. Y/N, I don’t think of you like that. From the moment you came into my life, I had been enamored with you. I couldn’t keep my mind off of you.” 

“ENOUGH!” I sobbed while holding the gun tighter in my hands. “Stop lying to me!” 

My mind had swirled with so many different emotions that I was afraid with one wrong word, my finger would pull the trigger. 

Bucky’s hand fell to his side and had no emotion on his face. 

“Fine. If that’s how you feel then shoot me,” he shrugged. 

Through the tears, his face had become blurry and I didn’t know what to think. John could have been lying to me just to get between Bucky and I. 

Or John could have been telling the truth. I had to be inclined to believe it considering Bucky had lied to me before. 

My finger had bounced from on the trigger to off many times, weighing the decision. 

Flash images of Bucky and I together last month clouded my vision and the gun dropped slightly when it all became clear. 

I was in love with Bucky. 

But it didn’t matter; he still lied to me. And this time may be the last time I forgave him for it.

The sudden noise of a loud gunshot bounced off the walls of the tiny room. 

[namisweatheria]

Hmmm since I wouldn’t want as many characters in the Doffy Family because they’re annoying and pointless as fuck INSTEAD they could make up some of the empty space in Punk Hazard by having Reiju’s early arrival!!!!!! Obviously she and Sanji wouldn’t meet and she wouldn’t be recognized except by us retroactively, and it would be great and make sense for three reasons.

1) More Reiju is a boon by itself, seeing how she acts when not being directly supervised by her family would be fascinating

2) REISHIGI REAL. Tashigi does not shine in Punk Hazard and I just think I could fix that while also making room for lesbianism.

3) It makes sense she’d be discreetly scouting out powerful technology made by her father’s rivals

Maybe she would employ the Stealth Black suit that Sanji never used…. That’d be great for less sexist character design reasons and for her mission. Plus then maybe Law wouldn’t recognize her and Freak Out. And instead he’d be like “Wait is that… No it couldn’t be…. Such a celebrity wouldn’t be here in my suicidal revenge plan lab explosion….” Which is funny.

OH MY GOD SHE WOULD HAVE REALLY STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT CHILDREN BEING SCIENTIFICALLY EXPERIMENTED ON. Oh my god if she sees baby Sanji in them…. The way we’d only realize the meaning of it all Later.

Wait lmao this would really make Tashigi the babygirl of the arc since not just one but TWO powerful passionate lesbians would entrust the care of the freed children to her and her big brown eyes in a tearful heartfelt moment.

Not that Reiju would ever wear her heart on her sleeve like that. But… IT WOULD be a pretty jarring and Upsetting difference if we got to see her do at least a little open emoting and compassion and making some kind choices when she’s alone and far far away from her family versus when we meet her properly in Whole Cake and she’s this like. Very Cold and Untouchable Mercenary. THE TRAGEDYYYY. Oh Reiju I will save you…..

I don’t know I just don’t understand the point of the Zoro and Tashigi dynamic overall or their fight together against Mona in Punk Hazard. I mean I get that he’s mad at her for looking like Kuina but not being as strong as Kuina would have been if she’d lived. But if he’s not going to Personally like, be the one who believes in her or gives her some avenue of getting stronger than like. What are we doing here. Not that I’d like that anyways since the whole thing is about Sexism and it’d be at least somewhat unavoidably shitty and patronizing if we DID do that. But at least I’d understand what’s going on.

I don’t know Tashigi is just such a sad character to me. Constantly sidelined and yelled at and never a hope of making it alongside the biggest and strongest. She’s a sword nerd who wants to keep legendary swords out of the hands of evil people but she’s not strong enough to take them herself. She’s clumsy and easily misled but she tries anyways. She has a very rigid and unforgiving morality as a loyal member of The Navy. I just don’t know how she really fits into everything, it mostly seems like she doesn’t and suffers for it.

WHICH IS REALLY REMINISCENT OF MANY FEMALE SHOUNEN CHARACTERS IN A WAY I DEEPLY DEEPLY LOATHE. ANCIENT WOUNDS.

I don’t know I think her whole thing needs to be divorced from Zoro and Kuina more completely and given an entirely alternate avenue of importance because THIS ONE IS NOT TAKING HER ANYWHERE.

I’m just not sure how to go about that. Outside of Reishigi thoughts but she needs to be a strong character on her own.

Hmmm maybe if returning the children to their parents created a great awareness of The Navy’s mistakes and a habit of trying to fix them. WAIT THAT ALREADY IS KIND OF NEBULOUSLY IMPLIED ISN’T IT? BY HER JOINING SWORD? But she’s not even importanttttttt in Sword it’s all Koby this Garp that. Look there goes Helmeppo. BUT WHAT ABOUT MY GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[deepwithintheabyss]

writing patterns

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

tagged by @waffleinator-inator @anawrites3 and @vellaphoria

as I don't have 10 posted fics I'll be sharing some wip lines as well

Stupid Things [Jason/Tim]

Gotham rarely saw such beautiful days as this one.

Catch 22 [Slade/Tim]

Slade grunted satisfied as his release hit him, and pushed his hips almost impossible deeper into the lithe body beneath him. He inhaled once, savoring the feel of hot cum sloshing around his cock, before he leaned back with a deep exhale, so he could smirk down triumphantly at the trussed up little bird. With a half-lidded eye, he drank in the sight beneath him.

Sometimes all it takes is Love and Time [Slade/Dick]

Dick had grown up with rigidous meal plans and a minimum amount of what he should eat. It just came with being someone who was very physical active. This hadn't changed when his parents died and he came under the care of Bruce Wayne, if anything his food intake was only micro-managed more. The man drew up many plans as to how much he should eat if he was to go out as Robin.

Trust bleeds Red [Dick/Tim]

“It’s okay to be scared Tim” he whispers, as he caresses one soft cheek, relishing in the touch of warm skin on his, the way his angry rosy flush contrasts so nicely with Dick’s pale hand. He skillfully ignores the glare being sent his way, as Tim tries to twist away from his cold touch and the eye-contact he’s forcing onto him. “But please don’t fight me on this, I only want what’s best for you”

And when the darkness comes, you shall call my name [Jason & Tim]

Hood grinned under the helmet, breaking into the tower had been a fun challenge, he had debated about if he wanted to test out his old codes but in the end decided against it. He still didn’t know how he wanted the reveal to go exactly so it was better to not give the old man too many hints and give up the game too early.

WIP Sequel to "Trust bleeds Red" [Dick/Tim]

They’re in one of the living rooms when Tim finally breaks.

WIP OJT Week Day 3 [Jason/Tim]

Jason’s body had been trying to kill him ever since he regained clarity in the pit.

WIP Rock Hard Tension [Dick/Tim]

Tim had always been too tense for anything and everything in his life, but he made it work. He did stretches and bending and being a vigilante even if his body screamed and protested him. He learned how to move with and not against his body to keep himself from harm.

running out of good wips to share here 😅

WIP Feral Alpha Tim wooing Omega Jason [Jason/Tim]

Struggling in Ivy's bonds Tim curses his luck. Of course he would get caught on the one night where he really could not deal with this. His brain and patience were equally fried from all the posturing he had to do and put up with in the last few hours. Galas were the worst and in Tims opinion they could all burn in hell, but being a public figure meant he had to attend them and play along, put on a nice face and smile as if he he enjoyed getting his nose assaulted by the posturing alphas and omegas that loved to crowd him for his status alone. And the few that didn't came for his appearance. Alphas crowding him about how he looked like the prettiest O they have ever seen. Talking about how they could give him everything he wanted if he just let them, how he would look so pretty dominated and bent down. How he would make a beautiful bitch.

WIP RedRobinYum [Tim/Any]

Red Robin groaned as Nightwing pushed him across the desk. “Careful,” he whispered, “I'm still quite sore from sparring.”

I know I already reached 10 but because some of these are wips that might or might not get rewritten I'm gonna share 2 more

WIP Waffle Prompt [Jason/Tim/Steph]

Tim groaned when he caught sight of Steph entering the library, she looked around for a second before spotting him and made her way over grinning like the maniac she was. He was sure that if they weren’t in a library she would have whooped as well, drawing the attention of half of the college just so she could embarrass him more.

WIP “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” [Dick/Tim]

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you” Dick breathed into Tim’s hair. Tim only grumbled and shifted closer in his sleep, pressing close to Dick. “Come on” he coaxed gently, shaking the sleeping figure softly. Tim grumbled some more, clearly trying to cling to sleep but failing. One eye opened up to glare at him, but the heat of the gaze was tampered by the haziness of sleep still clinging to him. Inwardly, Dick cooed at the fact that Tim felt safe enough around him not to spring to immediate attention at the slightest disturbance. 

Already I can tell I like to start with long lines

Wasn't sure if this meant just the first sentence or like the first complete line/paragraph, so I went with paragraph

and I'm tagging uuhhh

@bi-bats @ragnarokhound @littlemourningstarr @cadkitten @zeroducks-2 @disniq and myself because apparently tumblr wants me to do that @deepwithintheabyss ??

[jodilin65]

I am so pissed off right now and so damn exhausted that I can’t write about everything that’s going on in this entry. I’ll just copy what I wrote in the car and carry on with it some other time.

We’re going to be under new management at the park soon. I hope whoever the new person is isn’t anything like Joy or Stacey.

Yesterday was a shitty day. Had to play phone for hours with the ENT office, Aetna, and even Rhonda’s. The ENT’s staff are completely incompetent and the concierge is as contradicting as ever. All they did was give us conflicting info and jerk us around like a yo-yo. Finally, we called Rhonda’s office and they said they had a physical copy of my referral. We’re on the way right now to pick up that copy. Worst case scenario, we have to pay out of pocket just like we’ve had to with other things we weren’t supposed to pay for. I figured there had to be a catch when I learned how cheap this insurance plan was!

Either way, I’m not leaving that ENT’s office till it’s cleaned. It needs it. Also, I’ll schedule the next appointment 4 months out instead of 6. That way when the games start again and they cancel me again, I’ve got a two-month cushion to reschedule.

I almost regretted moving here yesterday as the healthcare is just so fucked up here! So are the roads as we encountered yet another accident. Most of them happen in the middle of the street. There are medians with cutouts that cars dart across and there are tons of accidents in these spots. The SUV was turned on its side.

Slept horribly with a 2-hour gap in my sleep after having the third nightmare in a row. How did I go from not remembering my dreams to having a nightmare every night? As comfortable as this bed is, I just couldn’t get comfortable and was tossing and turning like crazy till I finally drifted back off. Now I get how Aly once said she couldn’t get comfortable at times and I suggested a new mattress yet she said hers was fine. The only problem with mine is that we had to add more water to the tubes. We added 8 cups per tube but we may still have to add more. We checked and didn’t find any leaks, so we’re guessing the tubes just stretched a bit. The things are surprisingly short in height. I pictured dome-shaped tubes with a flat rigid bottom but they’re shallow oblong tubes.

Tom’s sleep was also split up by 4 hours only his brain could actually function and he did $16 worth of work. I did $31 yesterday. If we each made $20 a day 5 days a week that would give us an extra $800 a month. The plasma place is open again too, so he may donate tomorrow.

Anyway, my stomach was all messed up due to the poor sleep. I doubt it’ll do me much good but I’m going to give the mouthguard another try soon.

Anyway, in this nightmare I had, I was in an adult version of Valleyhead, thanks to my parents who were alive. Everyone had their own room, though. I visited a woman’s room and liked the way she had it set up. I also seemed to know her well. She was on the ground floor and had a door open to the outside. It was cold, dark, and snowy, wherever it was.

Then we were all in a common area sitting in rows of benches. There were about 5 people on each bench and about 6 rows.

Just got the referral and nearly fell flat on my ass. I tripped on a bump in the sidewalk but because I’m so fat and so exhausted I had to run several steps to catch myself when I could normally catch myself in just a second. I really think I’m going to have to see a sleep specialist. This is just ridiculous. I don’t understand how Tom and others can get used to poor sleep.

Back to the dream. My father visited one time and asked why I didn’t take advantage of a certain grant I had and make a decent career for myself. Why didn’t I become a lawyer? he asked me, leaving me feeling worthless and not good enough and wishing I’d thought to ask him why he didn’t become a lawyer or get some “important” job like that himself.

As we were all sitting there, perhaps to watch a movie, I heard a really loud plane all of a sudden, and thought to myself, oh no, please tell me they don’t fly that low here! But then I looked out the window at the end of the long room and saw a plane heading right for us. I thought we were all dead for sure, but it plowed through the other side of the room.

I had a feeling this dream meant that it wasn’t going to be a good day, and it wasn’t. But I now know more than I did earlier and will write about it some other time. For now, I just have to hope to hell I don’t have a nightmare tonight, too.

[automatismoateo]

How Christian logic has converted me into atheism via /r/atheism

How Christian logic has converted me into atheism I wasn’t sure on being an atheism, I was more agnostic (but also very open to different possibilities) therefore I went to bible study sessions. From my experience: Me: whatever is illogical in the Bible (e.g. Noah’s Ark) Them: that’s a miracle performed by God. Me: I don’t understand how this is suppose to make sense Them: u cannot understand god’s level logic because you’re a human. And you’re ignorant to think you can. Me: how can I believe god when non of this makes sense to me? Them: stop questioning and start practicing out the teachings in Bible. Me: how does free will work if god plans everything? Them: you’re rigid to think only one can exist (Her argument is that it’s like a family. The parents are in control of the children but the children also have free will) Me: If free will is gifted by god. Then I don’t think it’s necessarily good because I believe if humans do not have free will in the first place, they wouldn’t need free will, thus wouldn’t think free will as a good gift. If you think free will is good it’s because you’re using the perspective of human not god/objectively. Them: yes but it’s like a family. When my son is young they ain’t got free will at all I control everything about him, but somehow he still have his own wants as he grew up. At this point I do not want to argue anymore because they don’t accept logic. Also they are making me feel like I’m the dumb one because my arguments are extreme, inflexible and rigid, and that my perspective is one sided/shallow. They also claim that I should stop questioning because I won’t be able to develop faith/relationship with god that way. But they also tell me to educate myself with books that discusses about the questions I was asking (obviously written by questions) to clear my confusions. Now I’m more convinced than ever that atheism is the true approach. Submitted September 23, 2023 at 04:38AM by fqirytale (From Reddit https://ift.tt/mVTcOEA)

[adrianasunderworld]

Mrs Rosehearts talking about (one of) my mc: You two should be ashamed of the way you raise their children if this is how your daughter turned out to be. Honestly as a woman and a mother I am ashamed for the both of you.

My mc’s shorter mom: Yeah well, our way of raising children allowed our oldest son to become an extremely successful lawyer and we ended up with the most powerful sorceress in the universe as our daughter in law.

Mrs Roseheart: *Tries to retort*

Her taller mom: Did I mention that he’s also 195 cm? Without his horns? And that our daughter is 163 cm and still growing? I guess the us letting them eat “poisons” worked out in their favors huh? Considering Iggy (my Mc) is a girl and yet she is taller and fitter than your son.

Mrs Rosehearts: I see the apples doesn’t fall far from the tree if this is how you two are raised considering the way you raise your children.

The shorter mom: My parents are already 4000 years old and are happily preparing for their upcoming anniversary, there was no book nor guides on how to raise children like we do nowadays, yet my eldest brother still became the 3rd most powerful sorcerer back home, with my father as the Supreme Sorcerer. And I became a renowned fashion designer for weaving magic into clothes despite having little to no magic.

Mrs R: You are lying! To weave magic into fabric is an ancient and noble art and not to be done by the likes of you! And what about your other siblings? They must be pathetic failures if you don’t mention them. And ranking third is pathetic, if he’s so great your brother should have ranked higher.

The taller mom: My second brother in law and third sister in law may not have flashy jobs or big titles, but they have healthy relationships with their (ex) spouses and their children. And despite my brother’s divorce, he still maintain a healthy friendship with his ex and their daughter. Unlike you.

The shorter mom: And don’t even get us started on the two youngest, which are adopted. Each of them could wipe the floor of NRC using the Draconia boy.

The taller mom: And I mean, Rico (my oc) ranking 3rd is still way higher than you or your son can ever reach. I think YOU should be the one ashamed, since a Drake (wingless dragon) and a Leviathan can raise children better than you, a human, ever can.

Holy hell this is longer than I planned.

Frankly Mrs. Rosehearts is in some dire need of humbling like this. She's so adamant that her way is the "correct" way, but it can be proven wrong by literally anyone that is just as if not more successful who did not have such a rigid upbringing.

Also is the weaving fabric and magic a fairy godmother reference? Because she made the dress with magic, and I'm convinced there was something about the dress that was magic that made her unrecognizable. Idk if that was your intention but that's what it's making me think of.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is you know you suck when you are told by a Leviathan, I literal demon, that you are an awful parent.

[ragingbookdragon]

Friends To Arranged Marriage To...Wait, How Many Kids?

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Y'all ever write a self-indulgent Friends To Lovers fic? 'Cause that's what this is. Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t unusual for her to suddenly appear in his office. She did it most days. Okay, it was more like every day but that’s not important. The fact is, she showed up and he wasn’t at all the least bit surprised when she barged through the office door and slammed it behind her.

“Morning,” he murmured, taking his eyes off the screen but a moment to lock them with hers.

“Good morning, Bruce,” she responded with a polite smile. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t unusual either. When she came to the office it was because she wanted to either complain about something going on or because she was bored and didn’t have anything to do, so badgering her best friend seemed like the best option. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“What do we need to talk about?” Bruce questioned, clicking at the mouse until his screen loaded.

“Something important. Something especially important.” She replied and with one hand reached behind her and flipped the lock on his door.

Now that was unusual. And Bruce saw this going one of two ways and he hoped it wasn’t the first way that involved her pulling a gun.

“Okay,” he said and watched her out of the corner of his eye as waltzed around his desk and perched herself on the corner. “Am I in trouble, (Y/N)?”

“If you disagree with me, you will be,” she retorted and she started fumbling in her tote.

“You sound serious,” Bruce noted.

(Y/N) harrumphed. “I am quite possibly the most serious I’ve been in years.” She pulled out three manila folders and handed them to him, watching as he opened the first and started reading through it.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the others and read them but frowned when he set them aside and went back to his computer.

“I’ve already planned on a new secretary, (Y/N).”

She watched him with careful eyes and explained, “Those aren’t secretary files, Bruce. They’re marriage candidates.”

At that, his entire body went rigid and ever so slowly he drew his gaze from the screen back to her, staring her straight in the eyes.

“I…beg your pardon?” he asked as if not understanding what she’d just said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the files. “Each of these women are successful elites from either Metropolis, Star, or Central City. You have arranged marriage meetings with them Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to decide which one you want to marry.”

This was happening way too fast, and he still didn’t know what “this” was.

“I’m not opposed to marriage, (Y/N), but why?”

She pointed to the picture on his desk, and he briefly glanced at it. Him, Dick, and Alfred on Christmas morning last year.

“Dick needs a mother.” She was never one to mince her words. “A father can raise a son, but the boy needs a mother’s love too, Bruce.”

“I think you’re a bit out of line here.” He remarked, brows pulling together. “We’re fine at the manor.”

“Bruce…please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not a soft man. You’re hard edges and firmness, and while that isn’t a bad thing, Dick needs a mother who can be the parent that isn’t firm. He needs a mother’s guiding hand.”

She handed him the files again. “I’ve met each of these women. They’re good women who will make wonderful wives and even better mothers.” She stared at him. “You should know how important it is for a boy to have a mother.”

Bruce was on his feet in an instant, in front of her, eyes narrowed into a glare as he bit out, “(Y/N), now you’re out of line.”

“Really?” she challenged, not at all threatened by his towering figure. “Look my in the eye and tell me which parent you miss more. Thomas…or Martha?”

“I miss both of my parents. Every day.”

“And I don’t doubt that. But I know you miss Martha the most. Isn’t she the one you promised to save Gotham for?” (Y/N) questioned and his mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching tightly as he averted his eyes because he knew she was right.

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm, forcing his eyes to hers once more; her gaze softened and she murmured, “You miss your mother more than the world, Bruce. How do you think Dick feels every night when he goes to sleep? Fathers are the protectors for their children, but mothers are the comforters—there are going to be things that you can’t help him with, but a woman can.”

(Y/N) gazed at him and pulled her hand away. “At least go and meet them,” she requested and when he didn’t say anything, she sighed and picked up her tote, making her way to the door.

She flipped the lock and paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “At least think about what I’ve said, Bruce. For Dick…and for you.” He met her eyes and she added, “I think getting married would be good for you too.”

He nodded, and since that was all they could hope for, she left the office and Bruce collapsed into his chair, turning around to stare out the window.

***

His theory that she would show up Friday evening proved true when she waltzed into his office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, delicately crossing one of her legs over the other.

“How’d the interviews go?” she asked, not even bothering to ask him how his day was or how his week had been.

“My day was great, (Y/N), thanks for asking,” he mocked with a glare and she waved it off.

“Interviews, Bruce. How’d they go.”

He let out a sigh. “They went well. Each of them was polite and kind.”

“And?” (Y/N) gestured for him to continue.

“And nothing. That’s it.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously? You just met them for a singular purpose and all you’ve got it, they’re polite and kind?” She glared at him. “What’d you talk about?”

Bruce sighed again and reclined in his office chair. “Humanitarian works, college days, high society—you know, the usual.”

(Y/N) gave him an unamused look. “Did any ask for a second date?”

“All of them in fact.”

“Did you agree?”

“No.”

Her head lolled back, and she glared at the ceiling. “Did you even think about what I talked about a few days ago?”

“I still am.”

“Then why didn’t you agree to see one of them again?”

“Because there wasn’t anything we had in common.”

“Most people who have arranged marriages don’t, Bruce. That’s why you go on dates and get to know them.” Her eyes were still on the ceiling. “What’s the real reason you said no?” She always knew when he’d lied to her.

After a moment, he murmured, “…I didn’t think any of them would be suitable to be Dick’s adoptive mother.”

“I guess that’s…fair,” she agreed and they both fell silent.

A couple minutes later, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said though, (Y/N). About finding a wife who would be a good mother for Dick.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think you’re right. I do offer Dick everything a father could. Support, protection, guidance…but he is missing that love only a mother can give a son.”

“And how’s that making you feel?” she questioned softly.

His voice got quiet. “Like how I was when I was growing up without mother. (Y/N), I…I don’t want Dick to feel that way.”

At that, she drew her gaze from the ceiling to his eyes and she reasoned, “Then I think you should call one of the girls back and agree to a second date. You won’t find perfection in one day, even with how intuitive you are.”

Bruce shrugged. “I just want to find someone closer to Gotham. Someone who is familiar with us already.”

(Y/N) grunted. “I purposely moved away from Gotham because no one is.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce chuckled, and they fell into a silence again.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across her mind and she sat up. “Us.” She blurted out and he looked at her.

“What?”

(Y/N) gestured between them. “Us, Bruce. You and me.”

“I don’t follow,” he replied with a confused expression and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” she griped, then she stood and planted her hands on his desk, leaning over to get in his face. “You and I are the closest to Gotham as you’ll get, and I’m familiar with you and Dick.” She smiled. “Marry me.”

She could count on one hand how many times she’d ever stunned her best friend silent and that was number two because his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, steel blue eyes wide.

(Y/N) frowned. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind at least once.” Silence. “Oh my God, are you serious? You didn’t even think about it at all? Like ever?”

He shook his head, mouth still hanging open.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, close your mouth and wipe that stupid look off your face. It’s not a completely inconceivable idea, you moron.” (Y/N) held a hand up, counting off her fingers, “I’m of acceptable status, I dress well, I’m thoroughly educated, I do humanitarian work all over the world, I love your son, and I’m probably the one woman that doesn’t make you wanna stab yourself in the eye with a fork.”

She grinned at him. “You’re not going to find anyone better than me here in Gotham, Brucie-boy. Besides, I think (Y/N) Wayne has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Finally, he managed to make himself speak and he blurted out, “I stopped thinking like five minutes ago. I’m not even sure how to do that anymore.”

(Y/N) pulled a face and griped, “You’re an idiot.”

“I am not,” he retorted with a glare. “You can’t just propose to your best friend out of the blue and expect them to function like it’s normal!”

“You’re Batman,” she whispered. “Figure it out.” (Y/N) pointed at him. “There’s another plus on my side! I already know your deepest secrets! See, aren’t I a catch?”

“Was this your plan all along?” Bruce suddenly questioned and she gaped at him for a second before shaking her head.

“…No.”

“(Y/N),” he drawled, and she sighed.

“Alright, it crossed my mind a couple times but that’s why I started with the other women first. I was kinda hoping you’d pick one of them.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I really don’t see anything wrong with us getting married though. We’ve been friends since we were babies, we have a lot of the same interests, and we both care for Dick.”

She shrugged. “I mean we might not be in love, but our marriage doesn’t have to be. We’re stepping up for a greater good. For a young boy who deserves to have two parents.” (Y/N) reached out and held out her hand. “So? What do you say?”

Bruce gazed at her for a long time, longer than she was comfortable with because she knew he was mentally pulling her mind apart. After a few moments he stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.

She pulled her hand back in and gave a curious look. “Bruce?” His hands gently took hold of her cheeks and he leaned forward, even as her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Bruce, what—”

He softly brushed his lips against hers and (Y/N) all but melted against him, her hands pressed flat against his chest. They pulled away a moment later and he rested his forehead to hers.

“I think we can make it work, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t fight the giddy smile that came over her face. “Yeah?”

Bruce matched her smile. “Yeah.”

***

“So, you’re tellin’ me,” he started dubiously, looking at him. “That you and Ma only got together because you guys wanted to make sure Golden-boy had two parents instead of just you?”

Bruce didn’t even take his eyes off the screen as he responded absentmindedly, “That pretty much covers it.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “There’s no way! There’s no way that shit was arranged! You two make googly eyes at one another when you think no one is watching and you kiss Ma before you go to work every day!” he looked at his brothers. “Y’all know what I’m sayin’ right?”

Tim nodded. “Jay’s got a point, dad. For an arranged marriage, the two of you are really in love.”

Dick placed a hand over his heart and smugly admitted, “You’re welcome everyone, for bringing mom and dad together in real love.”

A chorus of “Fuck you’s” echoed from Jason and Tim, and Damian placed his hands on his hips.

“When did you know you loved Umi, Father?”

Finally, he pulled his gaze from the Batcomputer, and even behind his cowl, they could see the love he had in his eyes and in his voice as he said, “Your mother and I dated for a year before we married, but the night of our wedding, we spent it at the manor and Dick crawled into our bed and spent the night wrapped in our arms.”

Bruce smiled. “I woke up early that morning and saw him curled in (Y/N)’s arms and all I could think was that I’d never loved a woman more than that moment then.” His eyes shifted to all of his sons. “And I’ve only fallen deeper in love with her with each of you that’s come into our home. You make us better parents every day and I wouldn’t change what I was given for anything in the world.”

He barely had time to breathe before all four of his sons were crashing into him, squeezing him as tears spilled down their cheeks.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and took a moment to brush a hand through each of his sons’ hair. “I love you, boys.”

A chorus of “I love you too’s” came back at him and before anyone could speak, they heard someone coo, “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

They spun around to see (Y/N) with her phone out, a mile-wide smile on her face, eyes shining with tears.

“Ma…what are you doing?” Jason questioned and she clicked something on her phone.

“Oh, nothing, my sweet boy,” she smiled, and all of her sons started pulling away from Bruce.

“Did you just record that?” Tim asked and she took a step back.

“I would never!” and she stared them down for a split second before spinning on her heel and hauling off towards the stairs. Her sons sprinted after her and she let out a squeal as she skipped the steps two at a time to get away from them.

“Ma come back here!” Jason shouted.

“Umi! Our dignity is on that phone!”

“I dunno, I think it’s sweet!”

“It’s not going to be sweet when she sends it to the group chat that every superhero is in, Dick! We have reputations!”

“Oh…that’s a good point, Tim. Mom! Come back here!”

(Y/N) gasped as someone’s arms wrapped around her waist and she came face to face with Bruce—well, Batman, and she yelped when he pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Bruuuuuuce!” she whined. “Please don’t delete it!” (Y/N) reached for the phone and he held it out of reach. “Darling, my sweet darling, Bruce, please,” she plead. “If you love your wife and mother of your children, you won’t do that.”

His gaze darted to hers and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in the way that she knew he’d crack. “Please, my heart. Let me have a reminder of my beautiful boys.”

“You won’t send it to the chats?” he asked, and she crossed a finger over her heart.

“Cross my heart, darling.” He handed her back the phone and she smiled, leaning up to peck the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Bruce.”

He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and he pulled her into a real kiss, ignoring the exaggerated gags behind him.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pulled away from her lips. “More than you know.”

(Y/N) hummed, her eyes still closed, and she whispered, “You might love me more, but I love you most.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “All my boys.”

Suddenly, her phone started dinging like crazy and he stared at her, his Batman voice coming out as he surmised, “You sent it to the chat, didn’t you?”

She gave him an innocent smile and giggled, “I might’ve.”

“You’re going to pay for all the teasing that Hal and Barry are going to give me, (Y/N) Wayne,” he warned, and she scoffed.

“Oh, boo hoo, I’m so scared of what the big bad Bat is go—” a gasp escaped her when he hauled her up against his body and she stared at him with wide eyes.

A siren went off down in the cave and he looked towards the boys. “Go.” They all hurried off, complaining about the various texts they were all getting.

Bruce looked back at her, voice lowering as he growled, “After patrol I’m coming up to the bedroom and you’d better be ready, because I’m not going to stop ravishing you until you’re begging me for release.”

Something hot, tight, and fierce shot through (Y/N)’s gut and she could only flounder like a fish as he pulled her into another searing kiss before he spun on his heel and descended into the cave.

She gathered herself and called out after him, “You can’t just say something like that and then leave! That’s not fair, Bruce! Bruce, are you listening to me!”

Only his laughter echoed from below.

“Bruce!”

[blackenedwhite97]

Coming Out [Poly! Erasermic x {Fem}Reader]

Hello! this was a requested fic from like before Christmas. I'M A MESS I KNOW I'M SORRY! I’ll be catching up at some point, I'm in my final sem at uni and have MAJOR senioritis. Me no do unless me have to. Instead, now I just spend my time staring at the existential abyss the threatens to swallow my ceiling and think about everything I'm procrastinating. But I digress...

Content Warning: This story is of a negative experience coming out as poly to your family, this deals with rejection from the reader's mother, father, and a grandparent. This story demonstrates Homophobia, xenophobia, traditionalist and conservative values and attitudes and may be triggering to some folks.

This story includes a Polyamorous relationship

Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.

Word Count: 3.7 K (A baby story)

Y/N --- 4:06pm

Hey can my roomates come to dinner?

DAD --- 4:06

You mean the gays?

Y/M --- 4:08

Please don’t call them that. Neither of them are gay anyways, there’s more than just gay or straight.

DAD --- 4:10

Yeah whatever. Let your mom decide.

MOM --- 5:12

Sure, they can come.

Mom --- 5:23

Gma might be coming dinner tho. Maybe talk to them?

That conversation should have been enough of a warning for how the evening was going to transpire. At news of your grandmother attending dinner, you panicked and tried to back out of your plans. You had been growing steadily farther apart from your parents anyways, barely seeing them more that once a year if that. It’s not like they didn’t have their suspicions anyways, to them you were a single woman living in the big city sharing an apartment with two gay men. Not that they’d ever been to the apartment. If they had they might have notice that one of the two “bedrooms” was being used as an office. Earlier on in the relationship you were so deeply uncomfortable being around your parents alone, that you had Shouta come with you every visit because you were so paranoid you were just going to come out on the spot.

At first your parents were sure that you and Shouta were together. He had subconsciously cleaned up quite nice the first few times he met your parents anyways, wanting to make a good impression on them if you finally did tell them about your polyamorous relationship. Then as time went on you got busier and started to see them less. Shouta’s parents lived in the suburbs and you saw them on holidays, plus Shouta had come out to them as being bisexual a long time ago and hadn’t felt much pressure to hide the polyamorous nature of your relationship to begin with. Hizashi’s mom was still a city dweller in her 60’s and on top of doing the cute mom things like baking fantastic cookies and handing down family jewelry to the daughter in law, she’d also taken Hizashi and Shouta to their first pride in Tokyo and had an in-home recording studio where she recorded for local punk bands. She was, quite literally, a cool mom.

You gnawed vigorously at your thumbnail, not quiet biting the whole way through, instead riddling it with dents and cracks. Chewing your nails wasn’t a habit you’d always had, it became a sort of silent worry thing you started to do when you got to your agency and had to remain still and quiet during briefings, no matter how terrible the news was. Your ruined nail beds were an atrocity to Hizashi, who had paid several times for you to get a manicure to get your nails short and evenly trimmed so you could manage them on your own. You still somehow found a way to gnaw on the short squared off nubs of your nails though, and it drove him nuts. Shouta cared less, his hands were in ridiculous shape, he was callused and bruised, cracked and flaking all over the place and Hizashi would regularly force moisturizer on them. Shouta cared more about figure out the root stress, it’s not that Hizashi didn’t, he just didn’t know how to, so he settled for pampering you.

“It’s dead.” Hizashi huffed from the bedroom door. “Obliterated, actually.”

“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, you hadn’t been reading any of the messages in the chat for a good few minutes and just let your eyes unfocus instead. You yanked your thumb from your mouth and hid it below the table like a child caught with a sweet they’d snuck from the kitchen before dinner, you knew he saw.

“Your nail.” Hizashi gently patted the end of his hair with his special fluffy towel that he’d convinced you and Shouta he needed to control his frizz (which he didn’t have) and padded towards the kitchen table where you sat. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as he strode around you.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured softly, leaning against the table next you. One of his legs propped up on the chair to your right and leaned down to look at your phone screen.

“This is going to go horribly.” You breathed, panicked as you set your phone down on the table.

“You don’t know that.” Hizashi looked back up at you and smiled sweetly.

“Not everyone’s mom is a cool rocker lady in her 60’s who lives in the heart of downtown still and is fully supportive of her child’s bisexual polyamorous relationship with their childhood best friend and an ex-small-town girl with an ultra-conservative family.” You huffed out in one long breath.

“That was oddly specific.” He chuckled softly. “What about Sho’s parents, they’re conservative?”

“Yeah, but his parents are at least polite and send us both Christmas gifts every year and keep any and all of their shittier opinions to themselves because they want their son to be happy.” You groaned dramatically, dropping your head onto his thigh, using the extra meat to muffle the noise.

“Y-your-” Hizashi’s leg twitched from the vibrations of your groan. “Your parents want you to be happy too, Y/n.”

You groaned into his thigh, trying to explain the difference between your parent’s and Shouta’s. Hizashi laughed and gently grabbed the side of your face, lifting it so you were no longer muffled by his leg.

“Try again.” He instructed.

“They only want me to be happy if it fits into their rigid frame of what acceptable happiness looks like.” You explained again.

“Hey,” Hizashi ran his thumb back and forth across your cheek, “have faith, baby. They’re your family, they love you.”

If only he’d been right.

Shouta was the know it all, the one that way always right. Hizashi on the other hand was quiet used to being the one that was not always right, he had no hubris about his intelligence what-so-ever. So much so that sometimes you and Shouta had to remind him that he was intelligent and offered a lot of knowledge and wisdom in many many ways: public speaking, social relationships, radio scripting, he spoke two languages fluently as well. However, this one-time Hizashi wished dearly that he had been right, that he was an insufferable know it all who never got it wrong. It was a different twisted feeling in his gut, sitting the back seat watching you try to keep it together in the front seat, than the usual mild embarrassment that faded after a couple of minutes when he was wrong about something. That was damn near luxurious compared to the painful knot tearing into his stomach.

The silence in the car was so dense and absolute that it almost physically gagged Hizashi and Shouta, the two of them were too afraid to say anything and break it. It felt as though the heavy silence was keeping you from breaking, as if it were applying enough pressure at all sides to keep the thin veneer of composure you were managing together. You felt it too, along with the heavy weight that was nearly crushing your chest, the thick doughy lump clogging your throat and the tremble in your lips. You took a deep breath, it getting caught halfway and freezing in to an unrealized sob that you pushed down.

Shouta huffed and pulled off to the side of the dark country road, slowing into the gravelly shoulder. He turned in his seat to face you, undoing his seat belt so he could fully turn his body. You kept your eyes out the window, trying with all your might not to let the tears that clouded your eyes to fall. You knew you’d need to cry about this, about your parents and their conditional love. You knew that this was something you would need to deal with, but you didn’t want to at this moment. You wanted to go home, take some sleeping medication and go to sleep, you wanted to wait until the open wound in your chest had stopped bleeding to begin treating it.

Your father was being facetious about your living arrangement as usual, whenever he was faced with Shouta and Hizashi his first reaction was to constantly point out that fact that you were a woman living with two men and that if they weren’t gay that one of them should have married you by now. Shouta and Hizashi had taken these comments like water rolling off of a duck’s back, Hizashi even grinned and mumbled something about your father tempting him. You could have kept your mouth shut, you could have kept your cool but Shouta’s hand was brushing against your thigh and you felt it tense into an annoyed fist. Something about Shouta’s minimal reaction lit a fire in you, more like an explosion. It was a surge of very sudden and very ferocious courage that lasted a split second and no longer. You’d practically shouted it, the ringing in your ears drowning whatever words you’d used out.

You were met with complete and utter silence, shock and fear thick in the air. You’d almost believed for a moment that you hadn’t done it, that you’d just shouted randomly and just scared everyone. But then your dad stood up, his shocked open mouth flattening out into a hard straight line, this jaw swelling as he clenched it.

“W-what?” he growled, stepping back from the table as if you were a threat.

You were ready to backtrack, you were so ready to just laugh and pretend you were fucking with him. But you spared a glance to Shouta and Hizashi, their faces pale and guilty. They, regardless of what you could say in an attempt to cover up what you’d just said, were basically admitting to it already. You instinctively shrunk back into your chair like you’d do when you were younger at the dinner table whenever something uncomfortable would come up. You could tell everyone was at a loss for words, the difference was that you were scared and at a loss for words, Shouta and Hizashi were shocked and at a loss for words and your father was steaming angry and at a loss for words.

Your mother, who had always been the least confrontational of the two turned away from you and almost in a show of disgust immediately went to comfort your grandmother. It was as if you were an afront to goodness, an act of moral atrocity being committed in front of them. Your father began to barrage you with passive aggressive questions and accusations towards Shouta and Hizashi. He was trying to understand while at the same time refusing to give you a chance to explain. You stopped listening after the first few sentences that came out of his mouth, falling back into an internal monologue filled with regret. He must have said something exceptionally terrible because in an instant Shouta was standing, his arm reaching out to separate you from him and he was shouting. Shouta never shouted, he barely voiced any form of annoyance or frustration in general when it wasn’t a learning moment for his students, but here he was on his feet volleying harsh word with your father.

Hizashi, you realized was attempting damage control, his hands raised and his voice lower than either of the other two men’s. You blinked back into the present, as noise filled your ears, you mother was crying, your father and Shouta were shouting and Hizashi was rambling panicked. You took a couple of deep breaths and stood up on shaky legs, gripping Shouta’s protective arm for support, and looked your father in the eyes. He faltered at the direct eye contact and you saw an opening where there was less shouting to contend with.

“Stop,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “this is why I never wanted to tell you! Why I was perfectly okay with living away from you guys for the rest- This is why I haven’t been home.”

Your mother gasped a ragged, tear-filled breath. She’d expressed before that she’d wished she could see you more often, that she’s noticed you’d been coming home less and less. You’d been good at covering it up, saying you were busy with work and simply couldn’t get the time off. You knew that what you’d just said hurt her, not in the way it should have. It hurt her because you’d just told them it was their fault that you felt unwelcomed here and not because you were afraid of your own parents.

“How long?” she breathed.

“Three years.” You sniffed, hand tightening around Shouta’s wrist.

“THREE?! THR-” your father bellowed in disbelief. “For three years they’ve been brainwashing and forcing themselves on you?!”

Suddenly you understood why Shouta had leapt up, you had just now caught up with the conversation. Red hot anger flared up in your chest, the mere insinuation that you were being forced in anyway to be with your partners filled you with utter rage.

“No!” You growled, for the first time in your life matching your father’s volume. “For three years they’ve been by my side, showing up at the hospital when I got hurt at work, celebrating my promotions at the agency, helping me make a home that I feel safe in and actually fucking caring about me!”

There was silence again, this one was thin but not light in anyway, like it was a delicate thread barely holding a great weight from falling and crushing you.

“We care for you.” You mother said darkly.

“No,” you swallowed hard, “you haven’t for a long time.”

“Get out.” You father growled.

Hizashi was already moving, grabbing your coats from the back of the chairs and pulling Shouta by the arm away from the table. It took you a good long second to move, even then it was because Shouta latched onto your shoulders and Hizashi tugged him along.

“I’m sorry.” Shouta whispered, his hand finding yours in your lap. You kept your eyes focused out the window at the pitch-black fields with barely visible for off golden dots of light. You couldn’t talk.

You heard Hizashi shuffling around in the back seat, scooting closer to you and his hand joined Shouta’s, pulling up onto the storage compartment between the seats. It was cracking, that veneer.

“It’s not your fault.” Hizashi murmured.

You sniffed hard, biting int you bottom lip. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that your parents didn’t accept you, that you weren’t good enough or right for them, that you weren’t on par with the apparent morality of the rest of the family. It wasn’t your fault that they were backwards people with terrible ideas of how a person should be. It still didn’t hurt any less that you couldn’t meet those backwards ideals, that you couldn’t be the right kind of person for them.

“Y/n,” Shouta whispered, gently grabbing your chin and turning your face towards them.

They were looking at you the way a mother looks at her crying baby in the first few months, the desperate need to connect and nurture glowing in their eyes. They were filled with worry, with pity, with understanding but also, with fear. No doubt, what had just happened had been traumatic for them too. Looking into their emotion filled eyes you felt that veneer shatter, falling away and unleashing that mournful sobbing that had been trapped inside.

Shouta pulled you towards him, holding you firmly to his chest placing his head atop yours. You vaguely felt Hizashi disappear from you for a moment, but you were too preoccupied with the trembling muscles seizing violently in your chest. Then you felt him sliding in behind you, only now realizing he’d stepped out of the car and slide in through your door as he shut it behind him. He draped himself over you rubbing circles into your back.

“It’s not your fault.” He murmured into your hair over and over again.

At first you didn’t really focus on it, thinking it idle words of comfort but the more he said the more it sunk in. The more your realized that you were holding onto the hope that there was something about this, about you, that you could fix. With every repetition of those four words that false hope chipped away and that heavy weight in your chest began to fall away. It was still painful, it still felt like you had a pen festering wound that you’d never fully heal from, but it also felt lighter. It felt as though a burden you’d believed was yours to bear was suddenly the responsibility of the many.

“You don’t have to change,” Shouta whispered softly as your sobs ebbed into weak beaths, “they do.”

That reignited some tears, to hear what you needed to said so plainly. Shouta was good at that, putting those intangible thoughts and feelings into plain words. You cried until the tears and the worry and the late hour caught up with you, until your head felt heavy and waterlogged and you slumped backwards into Hizashi sniffing. You cried until your wavering breaths evened out and your tired mind fell to silence. Hizashi pulled you into his lap and cradled you against him like a parent holding and oversized child, running his hand slowly through your hair.

When you awoke you were swaddled thoroughly with the fuzzy blanket from the couch Shouta hated because it shed and sandwiched between the two men who snored away. As you blinked in the early morning light that just barely peaked through the blinds you noticed the red rims around Hizashi’s eyes and deep-set circles under Shouta’s as if they both been awake all night. Shouta was still in his dress shirt and Hizashi had stripped down to his boxers and pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun. Neither were properly snoring which told they hadn’t been asleep for very long.

You tried to ignore what had happened last night, what had led to the heavy feeling in your head and crusty dry eyes and tight cheeks. You tried to pretend that they had stayed up for work, that they you had swaddled yourself up in the blanket nor because you were sad but because you just wanted to be cozy. Then you heard a phone vibrate on the nightstand and any and all work towards denial washed away as you dreaded checking it. It could just be a work thing, it could be Hizashi’s phone even though he’d never had it on silent even once since you’ve known him. It could have been Shouta’s vibrating against the wooden table even though you could see his slightly peeking out of his back pocket.

You sighed and sat up, daring the smallest of glances at the nightstand. It was your phone screen that was lit up, several notifications on the screen. You groaned and laid back down, scrunching your eyes shut begging for sleep to suddenly and miraculously take you. It buzzed again and you huffed. Fine. You’ll check it. I guess someone could be dying. I do stop that from happening for a living.

You very cautiously crawled over Hizashi and reached to get your phone, electing not to look at it until you settled back between your boys. You scrolled though your notifications, weather, news, a work email, a second email from a contact that made your blood run cold and three missed calls and two answering machine messages from the same contact. Grandma. Your hands trembled at you unlocked your phone and typed int your voicemail password. You held the phone up to you ear and listen to the first message which was more or less just some frustrated grandma noises and mumbles about the inconvenience of technology, followed briefly by a set of hellos. If you hadn’t been ready to shit yourself, you’d have laughed. Then the second played and you had to take a deep breath to hold yourself together enough to keep listening.

“Hello? Hello? Y/n? Oh shi- well this is just ridiculous. Y/n, I don’t know if you can hear me, or maybe this is your answering machine, I don’t know I can’t hear too well but-” her soft worn voice said into the phone, “I want you to know that I love you. Your parents love you too, even if they did not act like it tonight.”

She paused and your eyes welled up with tears, a lump forming in your throat. It was this strange feeling of pure sadness but also happiness and relief.

“Those boys,” she continued, “probably would have killed your father last night if they had the chance. I’m not saying I get it, but they sure do love you, sweetheart. I quite like the blond one he is very-”

The message cut off and the automated voice asked you what you wanted to do with the message. All you could do was laugh, laugh and cry. You were still sad, still in pain, but it was already starting to feel less life-ending.

“Hey,” Shouta mumbled blearily, “S’okay. I’m here.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, trying to pull himself from sleep. You hugged him back and massaged the back of his scalp gently.

“Listen to this.” You sniffed.

He nodded and you pressed repeat, listening to the whole second message through again. You watched as a smile spread across his sleepy lips and he laughed softly. He pouted suddenly when it ended, his eyebrows pulling together as much as his drowsy state would let them.

“What?” you asked, worried he’d heard something you‘d missed.

“Why does she like Zash more?” he grumbled, barely awake now.

You smiled and curled into him, electing not to answer knowing that he wouldn’t like being told that Hizashi is more sociable than him. Besides, you smiled to yourself, he’d be asleep in a matter of seconds.

You were still hurt; you still had that big open wound in your chest. But with Shouta and Hizashi at your side you knew you’d heal; you knew they’d give you anything you needed. You knew that your grandmother was right, that these two boys loved you very much.

[weebswrites]

Hi. I read your demon bro angst about them hurting mc. Can I request something similar, only it was the MC who broke it off Bc of something the demon bros did, and how they felt after? Please and thank you.

The Demon Bros Getting Dumped >:)

Lucifer (why you broke up: he put too much time into his work and not enough time into your relationship)

• He never thought you’d break up, so when you sat him down and said that you wanted to end things, he didn’t think it was real

• After a brief conversation you left his office, then going to Asmo’s room so you could cry on your best friend’s shoulder

• He tried to pour his grief into work, but every time he tried to he’d just think about how that very same work was the reason he lost you

• Cried to Diavolo

• He’d come up with excuses to come to your classes, eyes fighting the urge to look at you to see if you were okay (which you weren’t)

• Didn’t know what he had until he lost it

Mammon (why you broke up: he sold one too many of your valuables from the human world)

• “I can’t do this anymore, Mammon!” you shout, “It’s ~my~ stuff!”

• “MC, I’m sorry, I just needed the money to pay someone back” he apologized, and you could tell he genuinely felt bad. But it didn’t change that this was the second time this week he had sold something of yours

• “Mammon..” you exhaled through your mouth, voice lowering to a reasonable volume, “I can’t. I’m sorry” you hoped your eyes said what you were thinking because you weren’t sure if you could say the words out loud

• His eyes fell, and you could tell he knew what you meant

• You turned and left his room, going back to yours where you collapsed in bed, crying yourself to sleep

• He laid in bed all night, staring at the ceiling. He’d never been this...solemn before...

• Never truly moves on from you

Leviathan (why you broke up: he got too overbearing and jealous of your guy friends)

• You’re telling him for what feels like the hundredth time that your lab partner isn’t flirting with you he’s just being nice when you feel something break inside your chest

• “Levi...” you whisper, “I-”

• He yells and cuts you off, “Stop! Just...get out” his voice dropped to a whisper, and you saw a tear fall down his face

• You whisper a small apology and leave his room, knowing what had just happened as well as he did

• The walk back to your room feels like it takes hours, and when Beel sees you on his way back from getting a snack, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so upset in your life

• You spend the night with Beel trying to make you feel better, but that doesn't take away from the crying you can hear from Levi’s room throughout the night

Satan (why you broke up: he fell back into torturing people for fun)

• “Satan, we need to talk” your tone is rigid, and you can tell by the way he looks up from his book that he knows what this is about

• “MC, I’m sorry” he tries to apologize, but you’re tired of his excuses

• You cut off his apology, “Satan, I’m here on exchange, I’m trying to keep a good reputation both here and in the human world. If my parents found out I was dating a murderer they’d kill me, and I could get expelled from school if I bring you around. I love you, but I can’t put my future at risk anymore” you explain to him, your heart breaking as you watched your words break his

• He just nodded and went back to his book, trying to stay strong while you were still there

• You sighed emptily, “I’m sorry, Satan. Truly” you whispered before turning to leave, closing the door gently behind you and pressing your ear to it to see if you could hear Satan’s true reaction to you breaking things off through the door

• And oh, you could. You heard a thud (him throwing his book across the room) followed by a muffled scream (into a pillow), as you heard him break down into messy sobs, your heart feeling like it was being torn into a million pieces

Beelzebub (why you broke up: he cared more about his next meal than you)

• It’s not like it was intentional, he’d never really been in a relationship before

• You’d text him to hang out and he’d say he was busy...almost every time

• So you started just showing up to spend time with him, but he’d spend more time on eating than on engaging in conversation

• So one day you go to him and sit down, “Beel, I really like you, but I don’t think this is working out”

• He stops

• Looks over at you, and slowly nods, mouth pursing. “I understand. I haven’t been very good to you, MC”

• You talk for a bit and agree that you still want to be as good of friends as you can be, and things basically go back to how they were before you dated

• But he can’t help but stay up late at night, pondering how he could have acted differently to keep you

Belphegor (why you broke up: he didn't make time for you, ever)

• You would try to plan date nights, to watch a movie or get dinner somewhere, but he’d always just pull you into bed and nap

• Which was nice, but you needed more from a partner

• So you bring it up, hoping that you can get him to agree to a date night at ~least~ once a week

• And he’s sorry, but you know it’s something about him that he can’t change. He’s the avatar of sloth, what were you expecting

• So you go your separate ways

• You didn’t think he was too broken up about it until Lucifer talked to you, seeing if you knew why he hadn’t left his room in a week

• "That explains it, then”

[obiwanobi]

I'm just so very enamored with the idea of Dooku als Obi-Wans Master at the moment. There are so many possibilities, I'm going crazy. I love your writing style and your ideas, so I would be so very happy to know your thoughts about this.

At first, I was going to say “oh, is this a nice AU where taking Obi-Wan as his padawan makes Dooku stay in the Order and the whole lineage is happier?” but then I thought, ‘wait, no, I’m only here to make a dramatic tragedy out of everything’ and I got really into it and wrote 2k about it 🤷‍♀️

So let’s say that Qui-Gon still takes Obi-Wan as his padawan first, and that’s how he meets his grandmaster, Dooku, who’s still a Jedi at this point in time.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan aren’t a good match at first, and it’s the same, even a bit worse than that, in this AU: Obi-Wan might be grateful to have been chosen and be eager to learn, but their rocky start as a master and padawan duo and their very different approach to, well, basically everything, make things a bit awkward.

But Dooku? Obi-Wan adores Dooku.

Dooku is the antithesis of Qui-Gon; he is a fascinating orator, has a practical mind, favours a pragmatic approach to problems, and is also one of the best duellists in the Temple. And he’s almost certain that Dooku likes him too. His grandmaster might be intimidating at first (he’s even taller than master Jinn for Force’s sake,) but he also raised Qui-Gon, so the man has seen it all and can’t be surprised by anything anymore. When he comes to visit Qui-Gon, Dooku never forgets to ask Obi-Wan how his training is going, what form he likes the best (Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the opportunity to say that he finds Makashi particularly elegant and almost gets a smile in return) and one day, he even ends up helping him write a geopolitical paper about a planet Dooku has spent almost a year on. It warms Obi-Wan to feel a connection to their lineage when he doesn’t really understand his own master, and watching Dooku and Qui-Gon, two very different personalities, getting along so well, also gives him hope that he will one day have the same type of relationship with his master.

But then, Melida/Daan happens.

Obi-Wan decides to stay, and Qui-Gon leaves the planet with one less padawan. It takes a bit of time before Dooku manages to get Qui-Gon to talk about what happened and where is his favourite grandpadawan, but when he realises that Qui-Gon left Obi-Wan in a warzone, Dooku is outraged, and is on Melida/Daan three days later to formally ask Obi-Wan to reconsider leaving the Order. It takes a bit of time before Obi-Wan truly starts thinking about it, because “Master Jinn will never take me back. I’m very sorry, Master Dooku, but he was the only one who was willing to take me as his padawan. No one else will, especially now.” and Dooku scoffs, because he wouldn’t travel to the outer rim for anyone, and of course he’s planning to personally train him. He saw the potential in him, and would hate to see it go to waste. All of this if Obi-Wan can assure him that he won’t rebel at every opportunity, of course, because he won’t accept the betrayal of his trust. 

They both leave the planet together, as Master and Padawan. 

The next few months are... strenuous. Adapting to Dooku’s teaching methods is harder than Obi-Wan expected. His new master asks for discipline, practicality and complete control of oneself at all time, and doesn’t accept any nonsenses. It’s not something Obi-Wan really knows how to do after months with Qui-Gon “don’t think, just do” Jinn. There is also a new distance between Dooku and Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan knows is his fault, but can’t do much about it; he still hasn’t said more than two words to Qui-Gon since Melida/Daan (apologies that his master- former master accepted with a cordial bow and that was it) and is in no hurry to change that.

Nevertheless, Obi-Wan is happy. Dooku might be a bit snobbish, makes imperious demands and even disagrees with the Council just like his former padawan, but he also explains to Obi-Wan why his decisions and insistence on certain parts of his training are necessary, doesn’t shy away from philosophical questions about the Force or the Order (even if his opinion is sometimes bordering on blasphemy,) and is, after all, one of the most skilled Master in the Temple. He might be a severe figure of authority to everyone else, but his hidden smile at a witty remark from his padawan, or the use of a diplomatic loophole to get his way without having to ignite his lightsaber, always gets him a gentle hand on his shoulder and an almost-satisfied smile. It’s more than enough for him. 

And then, Qui-Gon brings Anakin Skywalker to the Temple.

Obi-Wan tries not to think too much about the rumours that say that he went all the way to the outer rim to get himself a new padawan. A padawan he chose this time. A padawan who’s the Chosen One.

 “Ridiculous,” Master Dooku scorns, his expression so dismissive that the few gossipy padawans (and knights!) around scatter in a second. “I saw the boy, and if this raggedy child is the Chosen One who’s supposed to save us all, we should all start building our own funeral pyre to save us some time.”

“Master, really,” Obi-Wan sighs, half-reprimand, half-amusement. He’s still glad his master shares his distaste with the idea of taking a child too old and too attached. 

And then, Qui-Gon Jinn almost dies on Naboo. 

The other Jedi that went with him doesn’t have the same luck. Dooku doesn’t huff and roll his eyes this time. He does spend a lot of time in the Halls of Healing at his former padawan’s bed. Apparently, Qui-Gon has been badly hurt, and if he should walk again soon, probably with a walking stick, he will never be able to maintain enough stamina to fight with a lightsaber again. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to train the boy, and even the Council and Dooku, for once on the same side, aren’t enough to dissuade him. 

And then, everything goes too fast. 

Obi-Wan is talking about possible hidden Sith in the galaxy at the breakfast table, and suddenly Dooku says “I’m leaving the Order”, and then he’s knighted by a master who tells him he’s glad his last accomplishment as a Jedi is something he’s proud of, and then his master leaves without a real explanation, and then they make a bust of him in the library like he’s dead, and Obi-Wan asks himself if he’s going to feel abandoned all his life. 

And then, Anakin Skywalker bumps into him. 

“You’re Obi-Wan!” he says way too loudly, looking up at him in wonder.

It’s Knight Kenobi to you, a voice that sounds suspiciously like his master echoes in his mind. But no matter how much Obi-Wan admires his master, he could never be as rigid as him.

“Master Qui-Gon said you were his padawan once,” Anakin says, excited, and Obi-Wan has never wanted to run from a conversation that badly before. “And that you were... the padawan of my... grandmaster? I think? So that means we’re sort of like cousins, right?”

“Not really, no. Jedi don’t think about the Order as a traditional family. I don’t mean that we’re not one, young one,” he adds when Anakin’s expression turns to dejection, “we just have a different approach to kinship. In a way, we’re all brothers and sisters.”

And that, of course, is the exact thing he shouldn't have said.

“So you’re my brother then? Wizard! I’ve never had a brother before! Does that mean you will spar with me? I want to learn EVERYTHING about lightsabers, for example, do they have unlimited energy? Can it really go through everything? Because I heard beskar—” 

Obi-Wan isn’t proud to say that he feels the urgent need to get away from him and never come in contact with that child ever again. 

But after their first encounter, Anakin doesn’t leave him any choice. Every time Obi-Wan gets some time off, the padawan is here, scarily good at annoying him until Obi-Wan gives up pretending to ignore him. 

He probably should be sterner with him. After all, he doesn’t own the child anything. But Anakin is always so happy to see him, impressed when Obi-Wan demonstrates the most acrobatic of Ataru’s movements, and eager to learn from him. Sometimes, he imagines Master Dooku’s face confronted with Anakin, and can’t help but laugh out loud.  It helps to forget the void Dooku left in his life for a time.

(There aren’t a lot of holos sent to him from Serenno these days. Dooku must be busy.)

“My master can’t fight,” Anakin says petulantly one day, plopping down on Obi-Wan’s couch like the sulky teenager he is, “He’s restricted to the Temple or boring political missions, and so am I because of him. All he does is tell me to meditate and make me ‘reflect on my feelings’, or whatever that means. How good can a master be if he can’t teach me to protect myself and others?” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan warns, kicking the padawan’s feet away from the caf table, “please tell me you didn’t say these exact insensitive words to your master right before slamming the door and coming here.” 

Of course he did, Obi-Wan thinks when Anakin starts a rant about being held back and how stupid meditation is. That night, Obi-Wan forces him to sincerely apologise to his master after a brief fight ("stop nagging at me, Obi-Wan! You’re not my master!” “Well, apparently, you don’t even respect your own master, so I’m very glad I’m not.”) and is just a bit stunned when he finds Qui-Gon Jinn on his doorstep a few days letter, asking him if he would agree to take Padawan Skywalker on his next off-world mission. 

Obi-Wan really, really wants to say no. He only taught Anakin a few Ataru moves that the lightsaber’s instructor normally doesn’t introduce until a few years later because Anakin wouldn’t accept a no from him, he never signed up to co-parent a defiant padawan! Especially Qui-Gon’s padawan. The entire conversation between them is already awkward enough.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“No?” Qui-Gon replies, sipping his tea like they’re discussing the weather. “You’ve done a good job at teaching him some rationality and a few duelling tricks until now. I haven’t been able to wield a lightsaber for a while now, but it’s hard to miss the handprint of my own master all over Anakin’s sudden blend of Ataru and Makashi in his movements.” Obi-Wan is pretty sure his ears and his face are burning by now. “Don’t you think he could benefit from some real experience? Maybe start to put things in perspective? Show him why the diplomatic skills and temperance we preach are so important even for the violent or difficult conflicts we’re asked to solve?” 

And really, what is he supposed to say to that? 

Qui-Gon leaves his quarters before he manages to gather the courage to ask why he chose him of all knights for this task. It really doesn’t make any sense to Obi-Wan.

The very next day, Anakin shows up at the hangar bay ready to see the stars, bag on his shoulder and enough excitement to make the whole ship vibrate under his feet. 

“If you cause problems on purpose, I’ll send you back to your master faster than you can say pod-racing.”

“I promise I won’t, Knight Kenobi,” Anakin replies, all angelic smile and respectful padawan face. It’s the first time Anakin has called him by his title, and somehow it sounds a bit wrong.

Anakin does end up causing problems on purpose. It’s ridiculous but also kind of genius, so Obi-Wan only shakes his head and says “you’re really going to be the death of me.”

And for some years, it works. Qui-Gon stays Anakin’s master, but he does send him to learn from other masters and knights. More and more, though, Anakin asks for Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon rarely refuses.

“You two are the last people I thought would get along,” Mace Windu tells them a few successful missions later, after witnessing them bantering back and forth from their respective beds in the Halls of Healing. “Nonetheless, I’m glad you do. It’s good to see close lineages strengthening their bond to each other.”

Anakin blinks so many time at the compliment that Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate a second before throwing his pillow at his face the second Windu leaves the room.

It’s a shame that Obi-Wan never manages to ask Qui-Gon about why he trusted him with his padawan. 

Because Qui-Gon dies on Geonosis. 

He shouldn’t have been there, Obi-Wan and Anakin keep saying. But they both know that you can’t stop Qui-Gon Jinn to do what he wants. He shouldn’t have gone to Kamino by himself, he shouldn’t have followed the bounty hunter to Geonosis, He shouldn’t have been in this arena, he shouldn’t have been killed before the help has come. He shouldn’t have died right in front of his former master— because of his former master. 

Anakin’s master died that day, but when Obi-Wan saw Master Dooku ordering the attack on the Jedi, he felt like he was losing two masters at the same time. 

Now there is a war coming, and the Council is talking about Master Dooku being a Sith, and he should stop saying Master Dooku, he knows, and people are asking how good can a Jedi be when raised by a traitor, and Yoda is talking to him about knighting Anakin and what he thinks about it like he’s his master now, and Anakin refuses to talk to him, and that probably has to do with the fact that he lost an arm and a father-figure to Obi-Wan’s master, and Obi-Wan would like to sleep for an entire year now, thank you very much. 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Pendent.

Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Bokuto/Reader (Haikyuu!!).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: F. Reader, Toxic Relationships, Co-Dependency, Mention of Injury, Threats of Violence, Victim-Blaming.

[Part Two]

You were better, when you were on your own.

It might’ve been because you were so used to being alone. You’d never been one for social circles, the idea of spending time with people you barely liked for any longer than you deemed acceptable, and with how often your parents moved, how many schools you’d been through, your relationships were bound to be short-lived, if they ever formed at all. You didn’t hate it. You should’ve, you had every reason to, but you didn’t. You were good with impermanence, superficial flare that would never have time to die out. You were good with what you were used to. You were better, when you got to work within the barriers you’d already grown fond of.

That might’ve been why Bokuto felt like such a dead weight. You’d had boyfriends before, both short-term flings and partners persistent enough to try to make it long-distance, but you couldn’t say any of them had care quite as strongly as Bokuto had, none of them had taken as much effort to keep happy as Bokuto had. He didn’t just want your affection. He needed your time, too, your loyalty, your attention, all the things you weren’t sure you wanted to give him, just yet. If you’d been a better person, you might’ve tried to give him what he wanted, attempted to think of him as a companion rather than an unending list of repetitive tasks, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You just didn’t work well with Bokuto. That was the problem, really – the two of you just did belong together.

Well, that and he was fucking crazy, obviously, but you were beginning to think you might’ve been the only one who noticed.

Konoha certainly didn’t, at least. If he had, he wouldn’t be so aggressive, his arms crossed as he kept you trapped in an isolated corner of the courtyard, the school day over and most students long-since gone. He was standing too close, his chest nearly touching yours, but the rest of the team wasn’t any better, mingling around you in a loose half-circle. They didn’t want to be as straight-forward as Konoha, clearly. They didn’t want to live with the guilt. When they walked away from this, and they would walk away from this, they wanted to be able to minimize their role, mark it down as an act of necessity. They didn’t want to have to remember you, and you could only hope they wouldn’t give you a reason to remember them.

But, if this was going to be anything like the first time they confronted you, you doubted you’d get that lucky.

In his defense, Konoha was blunt. If he planned on wasting your time, he didn’t seem to want to waste any more of it than he absolutely had to. “We had a deal.”

It was your turn to cross your arms, now, to scowl. You weren’t as imposing as they were, not on your own, but you’d like to think you could’ve stood your ground. “It wasn’t a deal,” You started, slowly, keeping your tone calm. This wouldn’t be any easier if they thought you were as irrational as their captain. “You asked me for a something, and I gave it to you. I did you a favor. I don’t owe you anything, and I certainly don’t have to stand around being yelled at by the person I tried to help.”

Konoha opened his mouth again, his eyes already narrowed and his lips pulled into a sharp scowl, but another boy stepped forward before he could get anything out, his expression slightly more passive, albeit still concerned. It wasn’t an improvement. If anything, the genuine worry written across his face only made him easier to villainize. He was worried about Bokuto, not you. This was about Bokuto. Your feelings hardly warranted a passing thought.

“What Akinori’s trying to say,” Komi started, his name resurfacing from the dozens of hours you’d spent watching their drills, attending their practice matches, melting into Bokuto’s side after he guilted you into eating lunch with his team, rather than the other girls you were still trying to impress. If you’d been any more emotional, you could’ve hated him for it, loathed him by association. It was almost a shame that you weren’t. “Is that we just think you were a little hasty. I mean, I know we put you up to it, but…” He trailed off, purposefully, clearly hoping you’d be nice enough to cut him off. Again, it was a shame that you weren’t, and Komi went on with a sigh. “We just think the two of you made a good pair. There’s no reason to go and ruin that just because he found out.”

Your head felt fuzzy. You wanted to sit down. It was a difficult sort of discomfort, disorienting and instantaneous, but you didn’t let yourself linger on it. If you did that, you’d have to explain yourself, make your argument more sympathetic than logical. You’d have to tell them about the arguments, the way he’d kissed you, the bruises on your arm that still hadn’t faded despite your dutiful avoidance. You’d have to admit there were bruises at all, and…

That wasn’t going to happen. You already knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“Cut the shit.” It took you a moment to notice Konoha was talking, turned towards his teammates and away from you. A few months ago, you might’ve taken it as an insult, but that might’ve been Bokuto’s one silver lining – you got used to being pushed into the background, when he was around. Hell, even when he wasn’t, sometimes. “He won’t play. He hasn’t come to school in a week. He can barely get out of bed. The poor guy’s a fucking wreck.” There was a pause, something similar to a groan. He didn’t have to tell you it was your fault, not when you could practically hear him thinking it, whether or not his lips moved. “It’s sad. He’s fucking miserable. If you saw it, you’d know what I mean.”

“That’s not my problem.” It wasn’t. Bokuto could’ve hurt you. For a moment, he’d looked like he wanted to hurt you. That wasn’t something you’d forgive with a few tears and a little sulking. “I’m not responsible for him. I don’t want to be responsible for him, and I never have. If you need a babysitter, you’re going to have to look somewhere else.”

“It’ll only be for a few more months.” Like always, Washio was calm, composed, cutting in before Konoha could provide a decent rebuttal. “Just until graduation. He’ll probably be over it, by then, and you won’t have to worry about any of us.”

Until the next moody third-year decides he wants a pick-me-up, too.

“I’m not interested.” You let yourself scoff, look of to the side, pretend you had better places to be. You did have better places to be. Anywhere would be better than this, as long as it meant you didn’t have to think about him. As long as it meant you didn’t have to think about Bokuto ever again, you’d do just about anything. “You saw the way he acted, I couldn’t look at someone else without having to worry about whether or not he’d lose his shit. I wasn’t happy. Fuck, I was a second away from losing my shit. You can’t ask me to go back to that just so you can win at... what? Volleyball?.” You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stop. You didn’t want to talk about this. If you were going to spill your guts to anyone, it wasn’t going to be a dozen teenage boys who thought the only way to make their dear captain happy was to torture you, intentionally or otherwise. “If it’s only a few months, then the rest of you can wait it out. This isn’t my burden. It’s not my problem, and I don’t care enough to pretend it is.”

You didn’t want to hear his response. You didn’t want a part of this fight. You tried to walk away, to push past him, but Konoha only stiffened, catching you by the arm before you could take a full step. You flinched, going rigid as soon as you felt his fist wrap around your wrist, but if he noticed the way you drew back, if he heard the soft, panicked noise that slipped through your parted lips, he didn’t bother apologizing. If anything, into only seemed to inflate his ego further, to make him even more self-righteous. Like he was the caring friend, and you were the stone-cold bitch who was finally starting to see the weight of the situation. Like he was the one in the right. You couldn’t blame him, on that front. No one would be willing to go this far unless they really believed their own bullshit.

“I don’t think you understand.” He was speaking slowly, now. If he hadn’t made it obvious he was willing to hit back, you might’ve been tempted to smack him. “We’re not asking.”

Oh. Right. That changed things.

It was all you could do not to let your voice shake, as you forced yourself to spit something out. “And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”

To his credit, Konoha didn’t try to make any idle threats. No, not right now, not when he was so determined to make himself the good guy. Not when it was already clear he’d convinced himself he’d do whatever he had to, as long as it was for Bokuto’s sake. “Bokuto needs this,” He said, instead, like it was all the explanation you could need. “Go back to him on your own. It’ll be easier, if you do.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you tore your eyes away from Konoha, scanning over the other athletes instead. You weren’t sure to look for, support or regret or just enough guilt to draw one or the other out, but you barely had a chance to look before your attention was drawn to a familiar face – Akaashi, standing at the edge of the group, eyes sheepishly focused on the ground. He’d been the first one you talked to, when you first transferred halfway through the year, the first person to offer to walk you home and to invite you to a game and to smile sympathetically, whenever you asked how long your ‘arrangement’ was supposed to last. You didn’t make friends, but if you did, you would’ve counted Akaashi as one. You tried not to get attached to people, but if you were any weaker, you’d be attached to Akaashi. He was a nice guy, despite the company he kept. You trusted him. Or, you would’ve liked to, at least. You could’ve, if you’d trusted yourself to.

You must’ve been staring for a second too long. By the time you thought to say something, he was already glancing up, consciously looking past you. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought he was embarrassed. Something near guilt, but not quite there. Empathy pulled in two different directions, but he’d already chosen one side over the other.  “I think it would be… better, if you apologized to Bokuto.” He was talking to you. That, you could be thankful for. At least he was talking to you, rather than whatever enemy the rest of his team must’ve morphed you into before deciding to go through with their little confrontation. “He loves you. You should’ve heard the way he sounded, after he found out.” He faltered, for a moment, but the display of vulnerability was short-lived. “If nothing else, he really does love you.”

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. It shouldn’t have, you were sure of that.

That didn’t mean you could stop it from hurting, though.

You didn’t believe them. You weren’t convinced. You wanted to keep going, to try to talk them down, to do anything but roll over and throw yourself into the arms of their psychopathic captain, but suddenly, your throat felt dry, and it was all you could do to stay on your feet. You felt small, smaller than you had a minute ago. You felt vulnerable, even if you knew there was nothing they could do here, on school-grounds, where any passing teacher or student could see. You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want to do this, but as you forced yourself to notice Akaashi’s careful aversion, how tightly Konoha was holding you…

You realized you might not have a choice, either way.

[beau-draws-and-cries]

Caged Bird, Songbird - The Owl House fanfic

Summary: Raine plays their violin and Hunter likes to listen to it.

Rating: General

Tags: Raine Whispers, Hunter, Golden Guard

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33734356

 Raine liked to play the violin alone.

 That was a fun experience, they couldn't lie, just get their violin and let all the complex feelings inside their mind become beautiful notes into their instrument and fill the air around them as a pleasant song instead of a mess of thoughts. Music always calmed them down since they were a baby to this moment, and it was an easy escape when they needed it.

 It was something they would do since their school days: get the violin, hide in the forest and play until their feelings were in place again. This time they were near the Emperor’s castle, later they would have a little reunion about plans for the day of Unity, and Raine was putting feelings about it out of their chest. They felt awful about the stuff they had to do to get so close to the Emperor. They didn't like that, but it was necessary. They were trying to convince themselves that the actions were      needed     so they could stop whatever the Emperor had planned for the Boiling Isles.

 The notes had a sour touch to it, mixed into a more hopeful, calm melody.

 They strummed the strings, touching the lower part of them with their bow, with maybe more strength than they were supposed to, but they were full of bad feelings that needed to go out somehow, or  else they would accumulate in their chest until they exploded, and a meltdown was everything Raine would like to avoid when trying to convince the Emperor that they were the most wise choice for Coven Head.

 They didn't notice the teen approaching slowly, with their eyes closed, feeling the notes going out and the song, until they finally stopped,opening their eyes to see the Golden Guard sitting nearby and looking at him, with their mask on.

 "G-golden Guard! I-i-i didn't see you there!" Raine became a blushing mess, stumbling on their own words and trying to keep what was left from their dignity in front of nothing less than the Emperor’s Coven head, and Belos favorite soldier.

 "There's no need to stop playing, I was enjoying it." Their tone and affirmation were the only giveaway that they were liking the song, because the face was hidden behind the owl-like mask, as ever. Raine didn't know why, but hearing such a young voice sound so tired would give them chills. Something was deeply wrong about that kid. "Please, keep playing."

 "I-I.... I-I-I am not as good with an audience." Raine muttered, putting the violin down "But I can try."

 Hunter only nodded, seeing Raine play the first notes, a little rushed and jumbled, but as the song progressed, they forgot that the Golden Guard was watching, and the song started to have a more bittersweet tone to it. They heard that the Golden Guard had to keep an eye for Edalyn Clawthorne, and Raine felt a bitter taste in their mouth to think that being a Coven Head meant never being able to meet Eda as a lover again.

 They remembered their last fight, both drunk in their house.

     "If you don't want to be with me, just say it! And leave me alone!"    Raine had yelled, and Edalyn's face was surprised, afraid. Afraid that they would leave her at that moment. At any moment. They abandoned her, after all. The song acquired somber notes, lingering on the feeling of sadness. They had to suppress their tears as they let out their feelings. Guilt, sorrow, longing.

 They tried to go to other feelings, but it was impossible, their mind always circling and then coming back to Eda.

  When they stopped and opened their eyes, the Golden Guard had taken off their mask, staring at Raine with an empty expression. The bags under his eyes would make Raine feel an urge to hug them, to scold them to sleep eight hours a day, to tell them to eat healthy. Why such a young kid was a coven head and looked so tired---

 The scars and nick was what more startled them, a kid shouldn’t be that hurt. Those were tears streams? Raine didn’t ask, looking down, face burning from the thought of playing a song about their ex in front of the Golden guard.

 (Not that there were any words to it, and the Golden Guard could guess the subject, but still made Raine anxious.)

 "I-I-I am sorry, it's not my best work, Golden Guard. I.... I will make it sound better if I just play something I already know."

 "You can just call me Hunter." Hunter said, a bit emotionless. "I hope to see you playing more often, Raine.”

 Raine nodded, seeing him shift the position they were sitting, from a rigid stance to a more teen-like way, sitting on one of his legs.

 “Sure, sir. I mean, Hunter. Just as a curiosity… How old are you again?”

 “I am sixteen.” He said, a bit more defensive now. Raine felt how tense he was.

 “Oh, that’s an important age! Have you gotten your own Palisman yet?” Raine smiled, trying to just treat him as a teen, and not, Golden Guard, Belos right hand.

 Something about the scars, the tired expression, the lack of emotion… Made them shiver. When they were sixteen their biggest scar was from an accidental cut and their biggest problem was asking out Eda to go with Grom together. Not leading an entire coven. Definitely not going on dangerous missions for a tyrannical emperor.

 “No, not yet. I got my staff from Emperor Belos, I don’t use this kind of wild magic.”

 “Oh… That’s fair, I imagine Belos doesn’t like wild magic.” Raine said, looking at Hunter. When he didn’t answer, they felt like they touched a delicate subject. “Want to hear another song?” They tried to distract the teen, standing closer to him.

 “That would be lovely, Whispers.” He said, looking at the mask on his lap.

 Raine started to play, mindlessly strumming the strings, just feeling the mood. Hunter seemed to be enjoying it, and some tears streamed down again, but Raine didn’t comment on them, yet. They didn’t feel like Hunter would actually answer if they asked why he was crying. When they finished, Hunter had put the mask on a while ago, but Raine could tell he was holding up sobs, by the way his breath was uneven and the chest moving in spasms sometimes.

 “Music does that to you. Especially a Bard’s song, even if it isn’t my intention to use magic while I play.” Raine reassured him “Brings feelings you didn’t know you had. Bring out smiles and tears. Sometimes all I do is play music and my feelings take over me.”

 “Feelings are a weakness.” Hunter affirmed, a voice cracking in a way that made Raine be sure he still was crying.

 “Everyone has feelings. I know they can be hard to deal with, but it’s healthy to feel them, and sometimes.... Just cry to a song you liked.”

 Raine started to play again, now they remembered about  Raine’s Rhapsody and they were letting the song soothe them, using the bard’s magic to make the objects float around “And talk about it with someone you trust. Like your parents, or a friend, or nice adult. No one can keep all of their feelings to themself and feel good.”

 “... Wouldn’t this be awful? I mean, why would someone want to hear another person’s feelings?”

 “Sometimes, they’re friends. And friends do that for each other.” Raine stopped playing the song, Hunter’s words had set off many red alert lights on their brain. “Did you never… Tell your feelings to someone?” They asked, worried.

 “Well, I ramble about them alone on my bedroom and on my notebook--”

 “No, a real person.” Raine interrupted, with a worried look “With a real person that can hug you when you start to cry and that can pat your back, and bring you some water when you’re feeling like shit.” Raine struggled to say the last word, but they thought that would be more relatable to the teen. Teenagers liked cuss words, right?

 “That would be hard, I am always feeling like shit.” Hunter laughed, but Raine didn’t, making him go silent.

 “Do you… Need to talk about something?” Raine asked carefully, trying to sound the least threatening possible. They tried to put care into their voice, as well as an welcoming tone. Having the right tone on their voice was treated like getting the right tone on a song: One wrong tone and you could end up ruining your whole performance.

 “I… It’s just that… You know, all of-- All of this--” Hunter was trying to say something, but stopped himself “No, I      DON’T     need to.” Hunter’s body language changed from leaning closer to Raine to tense and alert in a matter of seconds, and he stood up quickly “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mx. Whispers. But I got to go. I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

 Raine nodded, noticing they crossed a boundary there, but they were okay about it. They noticed Hunter’s sudden shift of body language, and that would only make sense. Raine was a teacher, and it wouldn’t be the first time they offered comfort to an abused kid. Reaching for them on days they were beaten up, asking how they were feeling, if they needed a hug or just to chat. Show that things could get better. Get one of their hidden candy and give it to them as a promise that someone cared for them. It wasn’t the first time that an abused kid told them they didn’t need help and drifted away. They knew some parents would double the abuse on the kids when they discovered they had been snitched to another adult.

  It would only make sense for Hunter to dodge any questions and any comfort. It didn’t make it less okay, though. Raine made a mental note to offer comfort in other ways.

 Hunter stopped a bit and turned to Raine. He took off the mask, to show a face with many streams of tears that were already drying out, and an even more exhausted expression.

 “It was nice to talk to you. I hope to hear your violin again.”

 “No problem, Hunter. And I mean, you can reach out if you just need to spend time with someone. I can just pretend you aren’t there and play.”

 “That… That would be nice, actually.” Hunter muttered, putting the mask on again “Goodbye, Raine.”

 He slowly walked away, tired. Raine sighed and got their violin again.

 Maybe it was time to plan how to help that poor kid.

[jamestrmtx]

Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Summary:

After calling upon the decision to test the waters between carnivores and herbivores, things at Cherryton Academy turn far more tense than they already were. Unsurprisingly, there are those who poke fun at the decision, both with good and bad reasons at hand. Calling the academy out on such high of a risk's understandable, but mocking carnivores for making friends with their opposites isn't.

Having been sheltered through seventeen years of homeschooling and the rigid rule of never going out at night, you far from expect being allowed to attend there after your eighteenth birthday. Regardless, you don't plan on cowering back. Your want to expose yourself to the real world, meet new people, and live through new experiences outweighs that fear, transforming it into strength.

Act One | Man's Best Friend

[Previous] | [Next]

Already messy files almost end up scattered on the floor, yet you manage to salvage them right on time. Your hands and legs shake just as fast as your heart beats; even breathing is a challenge with how stressed your mind is. Being around a large number of people wasn't the norm in your home; you'd been used to being a close family of six since you were born, and nothing more. Spending time with others beyond relatives was a rarity, as was the idea and agreement of having you study your final year in Cherryton -- far outside the safety of your home. Now that you're eighteen and near to graduating, your family's given you three simple rules to follow: never step out of campus at night, never join acting, and never show daintiness. All three of them emphasize the word 'never'; not a single space for protest or bargain is left in those rules. You knew the consequences of going out at night, as well as the risks of calling forth unwanted attention by choosing not to dress how you were told and letting any sort of bubbly nature out. Being forbidden to join acting was by far the only thing they hadn't explained to you by full.

"Your dorm is through here," Jack says, pointing with his eyes and snout over to a busy hallway.

While the person giving you the tour isn't exactly the type you were warned of before being admitted into this school, he isn't exactly of your type either, but more of a happy medium between the two: a dog. Not quite a carnivore and not quite a herbivore, he's what you learned to be an omnivore -- a kind you were taught to be wary of just as much as a wolf or a lion. Even then, his presence is about as warm and welcoming as sun rays on a cold, winter day, and you find it hard not to smile when he continues to show you around the place. He only ever stops when he sees he's left you far behind, a product of you losing yourself in your thoughts and the new world around you. 

His excitement is one you wish you could manifest just as much as him, though the reminder of how you had to behave at this school leads you to brush and bury those ideas away and hold yourself back.

"Are you okay?"

Jack's question paired up with his careful tone help pull you out of your daydreaming. How concerned he looks makes you take note of the expression you're carrying. Oftentimes, you scrunched up your snout and furrowed your brow -- whenever you became lost in thought, mostly. To any outsider like him, it would seem as if though you're bothered by something, so you hurry in your reply, words leaving you in a rush, "I'm okay." Your smile returns as you meet his eyes. "I just… I got caught up with something else."

"Nervous about staying here?"

"About everything, honestly."

He lets out a laugh at that, and his gaze brightens as he motions for you to follow him once more.

Your next destination is what appears to be the rooms you were informed of at the beginning of your visit -- judging by the rows of doors laid around, along with one of them left open, displaying a bunk bed in the background. There's a student by the dresser, combing her fur without so much as bothering to look at you or Jack. She's far too focused on her brushing to acknowledge she's left the room visible to those wandering outside, though -- with her being a wolf -- you assume she's confident in herself. Or you believe so, at the very least, as based on the rumours your parents and every other family member taught you.

You halt when you notice Jack stops right by that door and see him gesture over with his head for you to step inside. 

"Is this allowed?" you blurt out, rushing to cover up not a minute after that question leaves your mouth. "O- Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that."

"It's alright," he says, chuckling. "I know you're homeschooled, so if you have any questions about how things work here, feel free to ask me!" He stops for a moment and seems to recall something along the way. "And you can come over to my place, too, if you need more help with showing you around."

"How bold of you to invite a girl into the boys' dorm, Jack." 

A feminine voice comes from behind him, and -- soon after -- the wolf from earlier appears next to the dog. She directs a cheeky grin at him, then a friendlier smile at you. "You're my roommate, aren't you?" she says, nodding her head in the direction of your dorm. "What are you standing there for? I want to get to know you!" She sounds about twice as cheerful as Jack acts. "I was told about your arrival almost three whole months ago, so the wait has been long enough."

"...You're Juno?" you ask, making memory of the list handed over to you just a few hours ago. 

She nods, eyes softening. "(Y/N), right? It's... nice to have a herbivore who won't look for a change of dorms the second she sees me."

Already feeling guilty, you can only hope she hadn't heard you earlier ago. It was a known fact you tended to speak without thinking sometimes (if not, most of the time), so you make a mental note out of it and set up a goal to improve on that throughout the rest of the year. You thank Jack and say your goodbyes before following her into the room.

At the sound of the door closing, you breathe a sigh of relief with the knowledge you've made it this far without screwing up too badly. The next thing in mind is to try sparking up some conversation, but only when you make enough mental preparation for it -- aware your thoughts might run haywire and tactless again. "But... Why would they do that? Isn't it normal at this school?"

Juno shows you around the room and stops next to one of the beds, bottom one being the only one out of all the others around to have some of her possessions settled down on it. "It's allowed," she replies and continues with, "And though it's not too uncommon for both carnivores and herbivores to be placed together... Things got a lot more tense after a student's passing." Her ears droop along with her tail, and a hint of gloom clashes with her friendly demeanor. "That's why you're the only other woman in this room, and why I…" Her body shudders as she lets out a breath. "Why I try not to walk alone in the halls anymore." She takes another breath and lets it out with a huff. A hushed swoon then seems to take her over, replacing her sadness about as quickly as her ears go back up. "Although... I guess I wouldn't have met someone wonderful, if some students hadn't cornered me for being a carnivore not long after I arrived here."

The wolf sighs, then faces you with droopy eyelids and a softer smile. "Tell me, (Y/N)... Have you ever fallen in love? It's the most incredible feeling I can describe!" She sits down on the bottom bed, though she scoots aside, leaving you some space next to her. "They say your last year at school's the last chance you have for experiencing an emotion so strong, but I like to believe it will carry on as long as your love is powerful enough for it!"

While you're a bit lost as to what point she's trying to make, you smile and nod along as you wait for her to continue speaking. 

After all, having two friends at the beginning of your final school year didn't sound like a bad idea. Hopefully, your lonely days would start to change; your conversation with Jack and your current one with Juno have been -- without much exaggeration -- the most interaction you've had during all your eighteen years of living. Knowing you were finally free to meet as many people as you'd want as well as study over brand-new things and the relationships between both kinds made your worries and doubts more than worthwhile. No matter how often your family and distant acquaintances warned you otherwise, you needed to grow, learn, explore, and see more outside what was taught to you at home. 

You hear Juno out until she asks if you have a special someone yourself; the question turns out to be a bit of a difficult one to answer with how little people you knew to this day. So far, the only experience you remember similar to that of having a crush on someone was by reading stories of adventure and challenge when you were younger. All of these were confiscated by your family whenever you gained too many ideas, fell for a character, or whenever a book so much as mentioned the word carnivore between its pages -- in a light aside from that of hostile and negative.

Although it feels like nothing short of wishful thinking, you hope your current circumstances change soon with the new path being offered out to you; in that, you carry a strong and unshakable desire over.

And, who knows? 

Maybe one day you'd be able to sneak out and watch the night sky, too -- and with a friend or two by your side, preferably.

"I don't, but…" You trail off to consider her question; overwhelmed by the changes and influenced by her energetic self, you find it hard not to follow along with her. "I wouldn't mind having one -- if that opportunity ever came around!"

[Previous] | [Next]

[robininthelabyrinth]

Toxicity - ao3

- part 4 -

As the poison slid down his throat Nie Mingjue’s body began to rebel against him, his limbs beginning their familiar thrashing, his spine arching until it nearly cracked, his meridians swelling as poison rather than spiritual energy began to fill them up – his veins starting to burst, one after the other, the agony excruciating –

“Let him go!” a voice roared, the vibration of it deep enough to shake his bones like the rumbling of approaching thunder. He’d never heard that voice before in this life, and yet he knew it at once.

Lan Xichen.

Jin Guangyao’s head jerked back, startled, and he turned with horrified eyes, saying, “Er-ge, wait, listen to me –”

“I’ve had enough listening to you,” Lan Xichen said, and it must be him, even if Nie Mingjue didn’t actually recognize must be his dragon form, too: long and sinuous, shining blue and white, with antlers rising from his forehead, five-clawed and noblest of all creatures – the celestial dragon, the imperial dragon. The dragon that his parents had met before his birth; the dragon, he realized, that had so conveniently helped him win the battle against the Wen sect only a little while ago. Yet his eyes were unmistakable, the same as ever. “I’ve been listening to you for all our lives, A-Yao, and yet it was only in listening this past ke that I think I’ve actually heard what you really think.”

“Er-ge –”

“You don’t have the right to call me that!” Lan Xichen shouted, his voice the boom of a thunderclap when the storm’s center was right above your head. “You lost that right when you murdered the brother we swore our oaths with, all those years ago!”

Lan Xichen advanced forward and Jin Guangyao retreated, step by step, but he still had Nie Mingjue’s head curled in his claws, forcing Nie Mingjue to be dragged along with him in his retreat, body still spasming as he choked on the poison.

“Let him go, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said. “Let him live. This is between us – the pain and grudges of a past life are nothing to him.”

“You’re the one who brought him back,” Jin Guangyao said. “You – we were happy, weren’t we? Just you and me. We don’t need him. He was always bad for us: angry at everything, always sticking his nose where it wasn’t needed, always judging me…er-ge, you don’t know how it was when you weren’t there! You don’t know how cruel he could be to me –”

“So you’ve been saying all these years,” Lan Xichen said. “I don’t care. Even if A-Jue wronged you in the past, that has nothing to do with him now! He has done nothing to you in this life. Nothing but honor and respect you, speak highly of you and be your friend, and yet it turns out that you’ve been tormenting him – torturing him – ever since he was born!”

“Er-ge…”

“No! I won’t hear it. I don’t want to hear any of your excuses, any reasons. I’ve always supported you, A-Yao, I always believed you when you said that you had no choice but to do as you did, each and every time, when you blamed your heritage or your reputation or – or anything, anything at all, as long as it was someone else’s fault.” Lan Xichen shook his head, and there were tears streaming down his cheeks, clinking as they fell to the ground as the purest of gems. “If Nie Huaisang hadn’t told me why it was that A-Jue was so convinced that he would die young…if he hadn’t told me the whole story of what had happened after I fell asleep all those years ago…you were planning on making me murder him, weren’t you? I heard you just now, you said so yourself. You wanted me to kill him with my own two hands.”

Jin Guangyao’s throat worked, Nie Mingjue could see it with his rapidly fading vision, but he said nothing, his wicked snake’s silver tongue finally defeated by itself.

“A-Yao…is it him that you hate? Or is it me?” A pause. “Do you even remember any more?”

There was more, Nie Mingjue thought, after that, but he no longer had the strength to hold on to hear it. His eyes slowly slid closed, the lack of air and the influence of poison finally overwhelming him, and he knew no more.

His last sight was of Lan Xichen.

And then -

Warm lips pressed onto his, a by now familiar sensation, and Nie Mingjue unexpectedly opened his eyes once more, and his first sight was Lan Xichen standing above him – but not the same. He wore the human form that Nie Mingjue knew so well, the one he’d welcomed to his bed all those times, but not, as he now knew, the reality.

“You’re a dragon,” Nie Mingjue said to him.

Lan Xichen nodded.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Lan Xichen admitted. “In the beginning, I only wanted to get to know this new version of you – you were my friend, back then, from childhood onwards, and I always cared deeply for you. I had no illusions that he, you, had returned to me as you once were; the soul may be the same, but the environment in which one is raised shapes the personality just as much. I just wanted to assure myself that you were doing well.”

Nie Mingjue nodded. “And then?”

Lan Xichen sighed. “And then you were – marvelous. Utterly marvelous. From the very first moment we met, you took my breath away.”

“Righteous and unyielding, straightforward and upright,” Nie Mingjue recited, having heard it many times over. Enough to make him sick, really.

“Not just that,” Lan Xichen said, surprising him. “You have all of A-Jue’s innate virtues, his righteousness, his confidence, his quick wit and fearless heart, but not his overweening pride, his rigidity and indiscriminate preference for tradition, his tendency to be aloof and distant and to disregard all manner of mercy and kindness if it interfered with his conception of truth. You’re quicker to anger, less retrained; you’re more thoughtful, more willing to admit your feelings, to accept that you might be wrong, that tradition might be wrong…you’re reckless with yourself, but not with others; you’re careful. Your devotion to justice and truth is just as strong as ever, but you think more about circumstances, about hidden pressures, you don’t take things at face value…” He sighed once more. “I never meant to fall in love with you, in this life. I’d intended for you to carry on living as any other man might. I thought you might get married, perhaps have children…but you won my heart all over again.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lan Xichen said. “As soon as the war was over and we were properly engaged, formally and in the eyes of our family – you pick an auspicious date for a marriage based on the eight characters of one’s birth, after all, and my birth year is…rather idiosyncratic.”

Nie Mingjue couldn’t help his lips from quirking up. He could imagine exactly how Lan Xichen would have managed that inelegant conversational segue.

“Anyway, it wouldn’t have been that much of an issue,” Lan Xichen said. “While I myself was born a dragon, it isn’t impossible for one with the correct bloodline to rise from human to dragon, just as A-Yao – as Jin Guangyao did.”

“The Jin sect…?”

“Flood dragons in their lineage, if you go back far enough,” Lan Xichen confirmed. “Jin Guangyao was the son of one of their sect leaders, and – ah –”

“A prostitute?” Nie Mingjue guessed, voice dry.

“…yes. He saved my life through chance – or at least, I thought it was through chance, back then, and now I suppose I’ll never know. At any rate, I thought he saved my life, so I helped him reawaken his draconic bloodline and brought him to the Dragon Gate, transforming him from human into one of us. It was me that introduced him to you, in our past life, and me who pushed for the three of us to swear brotherhood…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Nie Mingjue said, already knowing where Lan Xichen’s mind was going. “You trusted him. That is not a bad thing.”

“Perhaps,” Lan Xichen said, although he didn’t seem convinced. “When you were dying in your past life, I realized it at the final moment and came to your side – too late to stop it, but in time to ask you to give me permission to claim your soul, to look for a chance to allow you to be reborn through me rather than left to the whims of the wheel of reincarnation. You agreed, and I carried you with me ever since, right up until your own distant descendants came and begged me to help them have a child.”

“My descendants?” Nie Mingjue asked, surprised. “But I thought – you and I –”

Lan Xichen shrugged. “It was tradition. He was expected to marry and have children, and so he did. He never lied to his wife about it, always honored and respected her. He considered what we shared to be completely different from that.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Nie Mingjue said.

“I know,” Lan Xichen said, and his voice was warm. “I know. Anyway, I never told Jin Guangyao that I was keeping your soul with me – he never asked about you unless I raised the subject first, which I should have noticed, and at the time I didn’t want to raise his hopes unnecessarily – and I think it came as a nasty surprise to him. It never occurred to me that he might have been the one to kill you back then, nor that he would act against you in this life. If I’d known, I would never have let him.”

“I know,” Nie Mingjue said, and reached to take his hand. “He’s gone now, isn’t he?”

Lan Xichen nodded.

“That’s all that matters, then. I don’t blame you for anything he did.”

“You forgive me?”

“For what? You didn’t harm me.”

Lan Xichen smiled, and Nie Mingjue wanted, as always, to kiss him. “For not telling you the truth soon enough, at least?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged. “May as well blame me for not telling you the story of my eight-year curse sooner. If I had, we would have figured out the whole thing much earlier, wouldn’t we?”

That surprised a laugh out of Lan Xichen. “Yes, I suppose so…I’ve removed most of Jin Guangyao’s toxin from your body. The rest is buried very deep, but that’s nothing I can’t solve, given some time. There shouldn’t be any more pain, not at any time.”

“He was poisoning me,” Nie Mingjue abruptly realized. “When he was Meng Yao – I thought the deterioration was accelerating, but it wasn’t, was it? He was just poisoning me, even as he brought me all sorts of medicine to dull the pain…he must have been laughing at me behind my back.”

“That seems likely,” Lan Xichen said, and he looked sad.

“And now…no pain at any time? Even – my birthday –”

Lan Xichen shook his head.

“I’ve never had a birthday without pain,” Nie Mingjue said wonderingly. “Even on the years when I didn’t have to lock myself in the saber tombs, I usually spent it in my rooms, meditating, to avoid making any mistakes…other people have parties, don’t they? Or – a nice dinner, or something?”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen said. “Yes, most people…most people celebrate. They’re happy to have been born. I’m sorry that Jin Guangyao’s hatred took that from you.”

“You really do need to stop apologizing for things you haven’t done,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m already tired of it. Consider it my very first birthday wish, other than all of the ones about surviving past the age of thirty-two – which you’ve also granted, by chance.”

Lan Xichen pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, but he was only partially successful. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll let you take advantage of me this one time. For your first birthday wish.”

“Can I have a second one?” Nie Mingjue said, and raised Lan Xichen’s hand to his lips. “Marry me.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes widened. “Mingjue-xiong?”

“I rather liked A-Jue,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully. “No one’s ever called me that, but it has a nice ring to it…I’m serious, Xichen. Marry me. I don’t care if you’re a dragon or a lizard; you’re Lan Xichen. I love you, and I want to marry you.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes were watering.

“If you want to help me become a dragon the way you did Jin Guangyao, I’m open to that, too,” Nie Mingjue said. “Though we’d have to find some way to bring Huaisang along, I can’t bear to be without him, and he’ll probably want to bring some of his friends, too…anyway, why shouldn’t we get married now? The war should be over, shouldn’t it? I don’t think Wen Ruohan really wants to fight any longer. He didn’t seem in very good shape.”

“He’s dead,” Lan Xichen confirmed. “He’d taken in too much of Jin Guangyao’s poison – it was strengthening him, but he couldn’t do without it any longer. I think they’d made a deal a long time ago, enhanced power in exchange for the Wen sect so unceasingly harassing yours.”

“A bad deal on Jin Guangyao’s part,” Nie Mingjue observed. “Our families are ancestral enemies; Wen Ruohan would have attacked me for free. We’ll need to find some Wen branch family members with pacifist tendencies to take over the position, assuming they exist…and you still haven’t answered my proposal, Xichen.”

“Oh!” Lan Xichen exclaimed. “Oh, I mean, that is – of course! Of course I’ll marry you! You foolish man, did you ever think, even for a moment, that I wouldn’t?”

Nie Mingjue smiled.

A moment later, he suddenly blanched.

“A-Jue…?”

“Your family,” he wheezed. “The Lan sect – when I asked for your hand in marriage – they all looked so impressed…! Lan Wangji even…he said I was brave…they know what you are, don’t they?”

Lan Xichen covered his mouth. “Oh no,” he said. “Yes, they do. Wangji’s not actually my brother – they all call me xiongzhang, I prefer it to ‘ancestor’. Even Qiren calls me that, and having to pretend in all those discussion conferences that I was his nephew instead kept giving him heartburn…oh no. I really hadn’t thought of that!”

“He sent me a letter,” Nie Mingjue said, starting to laugh. “Telling me – oh – oh, I like him, he was trying to be considerate…now I understand all the references to doing things slowly to account for size…”

“Oh no. He didn’t! Tell me he didn’t!”

Nie Mingjue was crying from laughter now. “Well?” he said, wiping his eyes and waving his hand. “Let me see you, will you? I couldn’t get a good look last time, I was choking on poison, but I need to see exactly what type of mountain the Lan sect thinks that I’ve been climbing.”

Lan Xichen rolled his eyes at him, but the air in the room all shimmered, and the next thing Nie Mingjue knew the room was full of dragon, with its head placed pointedly in Nie Mingjue’s lap like an overly large dog seeking affection.

Nie Mingjue reached out and ran his fingers along the scales of the face, rubbing up against the base of the delicate antlers, and the dragon began making a rumbling sound of pleasure, more vibration than actual audible sound, not unlike a contented cat.

“I love you,” Nie Mingjue said to him, and Lan Xichen looked up at him. “Marry me.”

“I’ve already said yes,” he said, and the voice of the dragon shook Nie Mingjue’s bones in a way that felt positively pleasant.

“I hadn’t asked you as you truly are,” Nie Mingjue said. “I want you to know that the invitation isn’t just for the human face you put on. I want all of you, however unexpected.”

“You have it,” Lan Xichen said at once. “But only if I get all of you in turn.”

“Well,” Nie Mingjue said. “You drive a tough bargain. But somehow I think we’ll find a way to make it work.”